Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [Book 2]: Blood Mists of London

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  Albert nodded, thinking. “It’s actually a good theory. During your absence, we’ve not seen any trace of Raginwulf though. I’ve not found any more human feedbags or neophytes. I’ve not entered the abandoned workhouse though. I’d rather not investigate that alone. The boys aren’t experienced enough yet, either.”

  “We should inspect it as a group,” Jacques said.

  Albert smiled. “When you decide on a date, please inform me. I’d be most interested in going.”

  “We’d be fortunate to have you with us,” I replied. “Thanks for the invitation today. But it’s time we must leave.”

  “Very well,” Albert said. “A word of caution though. With the speculation of Esmeralda plotting to kill you, other vampires might be hunting you now.”

  I nodded.

  “Watch your back,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  When we returned to the inn, Constable Shields was waiting for us with another gentleman outside our door. Shields tipped his hat and slightly bowed toward Matilda with a kind smile. The stranger did the same. Jacques unlocked and opened the door.

  Once we were all inside the room, Shields studied me and shook his head. “Quite a remarkable thing to see you out and about, Forrest. You had all of us concerned about your welfare. But other than faint bruising, you appear as though nothing had ever happened.”

  “I heal fast,” I replied.

  “Quite obviously you do.” He smiled.

  I glanced toward the man with him. The stranger was thin and wiry. His head seemed too big for his shoulders, and he sported a thick moustache that didn’t look right on such a boyish face.

  “Oh, forgive me for my rudeness,” Shields said. “This is Warren Wellington, a reporter with one of the papers. He has been keenly interested in meeting you.”

  I eyed the reporter suspiciously. “Why exactly?”

  Warren removed his hat, smiled, and offered his hand. I politely shook it. “It’s an honor, Forrest.”

  “How’s that?”

  “To meet someone who does what you do.”

  My gaze flicked toward Shields, which made the constable nervous. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Killing the night demons,” Warren replied.

  I shook my head. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”

  “Come now,” he said. “You kill these demons of the night. No sense denying it. I . . . I witnessed you slaying the one that almost killed you a few nights ago.”

  “Did you?” I asked with a slight frown.

  Seeing my agitation, Warren smiled with less vigor and adjusted his necktie.

  “What I killed wasn’t a demon,” I said. “That’s a different monster altogether.”

  “Oh? I thought vampires were demons.”

  I shook my head. “What exactly is it that you want?”

  “A headline of a story that no one else has ever written. A firsthand account of these monsters you slay will sell more papers than—”

  I placed a firm hand on his shoulder and glared down at him. “You cannot print such things. Constable Shields, explain to him the dangers of reporting about these vampires to the public.”

  “I’ve tried,” Shields replied. “He won’t listen to me.”

  Jacques glared at Warren. “Forrest is right. You can’t write about these creatures.”

  “And why not?” Warren asked. “People have the right to know.”

  I squeezed his shoulder tightly until pain showed on his face. “The people of Whitechapel and London are terrified of the murderous stalker who has slain women on the streets in the dead of night,” I said. “Even when the murderer hasn’t killed again, speculation about him gets reported daily. You report about blood-craving vampires, and you’ll send the entire area into a panic they’ll never recover from.”

  Warren jerked from my painful grasp and rubbed his shoulder. His eyes moistened. “But isn’t that what the murderer is? A vampire?”

  Shields’ face reddened, and he turned away.

  “What’s this all about, Shields?” I asked.

  Shields didn’t reply.

  Warren grinned. “If you’ll grant me an interview explaining what these creatures are and how you hunt them down—”

  My voice deepened. “You write anything about me or these vampires, and I will hunt you down. Do you understand?”

  He shook at my threat.

  “And when I do, I’ll perform upon you what is necessary to kill a vampire. But since you’re human, it might not kill you. I imagine the pain is more than you can handle though. Now, get out!” I towered over him, forming huge fists and glaring at him.

  Warren stumbled backwards over his feet, nearly tripping and falling before his hand found the doorknob, allowing him to correct his balance. Once he opened the door, he darted down the hall.

  Shields removed his hat, shook his head, and stood at the open door. “Forrest, my apologies.”

  Father and Jacques scowled at the constable, too.

  “What did you tell him?” I asked.

  “More than I ever intended,” Shields replied. “Truly I’m sorry. The day after you slew Trenton, Warren stopped by the station and spoke to me, telling me what he had witnessed. The only reason he had questions, which is something I’d like to know too, was how the vampire’s body vanished except for a pile of dust or ash. I didn’t know, but since I was busy with the murder investigations he offered to buy me drinks later if I’d sit down and talk with him.”

  “And you did?” Father asked.

  Shields offered an embarrassed nod. “I did. Due to the grisly nature of that last murder and having to sort through all the drawings and pictures, I drank too much. The images of that poor butchered woman wouldn’t leave my mind. I suppose after I was drunk I had told him far more information about you than I remembered telling. I’m so sorry, Forrest. I’ve betrayed our friendship.”

  “You have, constable. In spite of my father’s protest, I told you what I am. That was to remain confidential and secret. I trusted you to keep it so. We don’t simply reveal to people what it is we do. If that information is published for the whole city to know, we’ll have more problems than we already have, and they’re increasing without added publicity.”

  Shields fought tears like an admonished child but kept his silence.

  I crossed my arms. “You tell Warren that I meant what I said. If he has a story printed about my role in slaying vampires, I’m coming after him. I don’t make idle threats.”

  “I’ll inform him. As I said earlier, I’m thankful to see you on your feet and getting around. No words can ever express how sorry I am.”

  I nodded. “You’ve said the words. Future actions will reveal whether you mean them or not. I do have a question for you.”

  “Sure. What?”

  “Did you leave a reward for us after Trenton was slain?”

  He shook his head. “No. Why?”

  “Just curious.”

  “Someone did?” Shields asked.

  “Yes. When we talked days ago, you seemed unaware that any vampires existed in London. Were you aware that Trenton was one?”

  “Honestly, no. All I knew about him was that he owned a lot of the slum houses. He was wealthy, and he did little to improve the living conditions of his rundown buildings.”

  What a convenient occupation for a vampire to oversee? A slumlord.

  “Have you learned more about the women?” Jacques asked. “Any motive?”

  Shields shook his head. He paled. “No. I can’t understand how anyone could kill so brutally. Any murder is a bad thing . . . but—”

  He hurried out of the room with his hand over his mouth.

  “I suppose I have no choice but to keep a low profile for several days,” I said.

  Jacques nodded. “All of us will, which is a shame. It prevents us from finding the duke before he kills again.”

  “We know where he is probably hiding,” I said.

  “That’s too risky.”
<
br />   “Not during the day,” I replied. “And Albert is willing to help us.”

  Jacques shook his head. “Look, Forrest, to get there, we either take the underground passageway where we killed four of Raginwulf’s offspring or we walk through Lowbey where Esmeralda has undoubtedly set more traps. Either direction is risky. And if Warren witnessed you slaying Trenton, you can be assured he wasn’t the only witness. Trenton’s master or siblings might have seen it, too.”

  “I understand that, but—”

  “Here’s what we’re possibly facing,” Jacques said. “Most of the tunnels are dark and absent of any light, so vampires can wait for us during the day. Human servants can be watching for us anywhere. On the streets or underground. And not only that, the duke might have found another place to hide during the day since we know where he is. Keeping a low profile for a few days is actually not a bad idea.”

  I grunted. “It seems cowardice.”

  “It keeps all of us alive.”

  I took off my hat and set it on the dresser. I ran a hand through my long brown hair and sighed. “I hate thinking we’re giving him a keen advantage by staying off the streets.”

  “I understand your frustration, Forrest. Don’t think of it as hiding. Think of it as strategy. It gives us time to plan, too. I will pay the constable a visit to see if he can give me a better-detailed street map of Whitechapel. We need to know these streets and the alleyways better than we already do. It’s like a labyrinth. While we’re learning that, Matilda can get supplies to enchant charms and cast spells.”

  I nodded.

  Father grinned. “Plus, it gives another advantage.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Right now, the duke, the Gypsy witch, and possibly other vampires are waiting for us. After a few days of not seeing us, they will lower their guard. When we finally emerge they won’t be expecting us. It’s less likely we’ll be seen.”

  “That’s true. I can see how that definitely benefits us,” I said. “So it’s agreed that we wait a while before returning to the hunt?”

  Jacques nodded, as did Father and Matilda.

  “We check the papers each day. The first sign that the duke’s stalking the streets, we return to hunting for him.”

  “Only if it’s at least a week from now. Any sooner than that, and we’re the targets,” Jacques replied.

  Reluctantly I agreed, but I ached inside to find Raginwulf and stop his murder spree before he added more victims to the list. But prematurely killing the duke prevented us from discovering what had prompted his pursuit of Esmeralda. The longer we waited actually gave us a better chance of discovering what Esmeralda was hiding. It also allowed Raginwulf additional time to confront the witch. If he didn’t succeed in killing, I held no doubt she’d seek our help, but the only way we’d do that was by her telling us what she was hiding.

  She had already given every indication that what she had hidden was farther down the side tunnel. I didn’t doubt that she expected us to return. In fact, she was probably hoping we did. I didn’t view her as a forgiving person or someone I’d ever trust. But without any contact from us for several days, she’d become worried, especially if Raginwulf killed more people.

  Waiting was the best solution, but not so much for an impatient person like me.

  Chapter Thirty

  October 1st, 1888

  Over two weeks had passed without us hearing any new reports of Whitechapel murders. Like we had agreed amongst ourselves, we didn’t grace the night looking for Raginwulf. We never ventured back to the Gypsy village either.

  The long days and even longer nights were overall uneventful for me at the least. Matilda worked on her spells and studied the magic bound to the enchanted hedge branch to see if she could duplicate it. She had also made charms for each of us to deflect any dark magic Esmeralda might attempt to curse us with.

  Father spent his time working the word riddles in the daily papers. Jacques was almost as bored as I was, except that we practiced sparing one another each day. Like he had insisted several times before, I was more agile and swifter than I thought I could be. He challenged me to footraces each day in empty narrow alleyways. I never beat him, but for me it wasn’t about the speed. I wanted to run without tripping over my huge feet. It took a lot of practice and concentration, but eventually my clumsiness was almost nonexistent.

  All of us learned where each street and alleyway was located on the map Shields had been kind enough to give us. Jacques had made rough sketches of the underground tunnels that led to the old workhouse where we believe Raginwulf slept during the day. He also drew a map for the underground tunnel of Lowbey and the streets overhead. We didn’t have enough knowledge of the village’s layout, but at least what little we did know, he had written it down.

  Panicked knocks came at our door.

  Jacques opened the door. Constable Shields peered in. Dread filled his eyes and his skin was ashen white. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes. “Come in.”

  Shields graciously nodded. “I had hoped to find you at breakfast this morning.”

  “We’re behind schedule this morning,” I replied. “Thought about waiting until lunch before eating. What brings you by?”

  He pulled the folded newspaper from beneath his arm and handed it to me.

  I spread the paper open on the desk. I read the headline and looked at him. “Jack the Ripper?”

  Shields nodded. “That’s what the papers are calling him now.”

  “Why?” Matilda asked, walking over to read the paper.

  Shields cleared his throat, pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped beading sweat from his brow. He handed me a folder. “We received a letter the other day from a man claiming to be responsible for the murders. Honestly we thought the letter was a hoax until the two murders last night.”

  “Two?” Jacques and I said at the same time, exchanging glances.

  “Yes. Unfortunately so.”

  I opened the folder to see a handwritten letter. “Written in red ink?”

  “To symbolize blood, I suppose,” Shields said.

  I read through the letter and carefully placed it back into the folder. “I don’t think the actual killer wrote it.”

  “Why not?”

  “These aren’t words this killer would use.”

  Shields frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “They’re too much in jest. Not the proper words a person of his caliber would use. He wishes to strike terror into the hearts of London. That’s his game. This letter is silly and unfounded and not that of a vampire with high social status. This is a mockery to him.”

  “So you really think the killer is a vampire.”

  “We’re certain of it,” I replied. “And this letter isn’t something he’d write.”

  “When’s the last time you hunted for him?” Shields asked.

  “The night before you brought Warren in to see me.”

  “That long?”

  I nodded.

  “For God’s sake—”

  “God has nothing to do with this,” I said evenly.

  He frowned. “Why delay your hunt this long?”

  “You put our lives in risk by telling Warren information he should never have known.”

  “I apologized.”

  “I know, but that didn’t change our circumstances. We already put our lives in jeopardy every time we hunt any vampire. We don’t need extra attention placed on us.”

  “He didn’t print anything,” Shields said.

  “I realize that, but he did witness me slay Trenton, and he wanted a story. I have no doubt he’d have been watching and following us from a rooftop or in the shadows so he could write about it.”

  “I don’t think he will go anywhere near you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Shields smiled. “I relayed your message to him. He quit the post.”

  “He quit?”

  “You have this unique ability to drive fear into a man’s soul. He truly belie
ved you’d stake him.”

  “I would have.”

  Shields cocked an eyebrow. “Not really.”

  “Ask anyone in the room,” I said.

  Shields glanced around. Jacques and Father readily nodded. Matilda acquiesced a gentle nod.

  “You look serious even when you’re not. I assumed you were jesting.”

  I shook my head. “About these two women, what do you know?”

  “Both were prostitutes. One’s throat was slashed open, and the other . . . she was butchered worse than Annie had been. She was gutted like livestock.”

  Jacques scanned the newspaper with his finger. “Are you certain both were killed by the same person?”

  “It’s an assumption at best. Why?”

  “He only slashed the one’s throat. All the other murders were more severe.”

  “We believe someone happened upon him right after he slashed Elizabeth’s throat. A witness said that blood was pulsing from her throat when she was found. The murderer fled without being seen,” Shields said.

  I glanced at Jacques. He nodded.

  “What?” Shields asked.

  “A vampire can move that fast. Since he killed two women this time, he wants to heighten everyone’s fear,” I said.

  “When will you return to hunting him?”

  “Tonight,” Jacques replied.

  “Thank you.”

  I shrugged. “After killing two people, he’ll probably go into hiding for a while.”

  “Why?” Shields asked.

  “Prolong the fear. Increase the hunt by Scotland Yard. While I don’t think he’s high on the publicity, he thrives on terror.”

  Shields sat in the desk chair. “Then how do you plan to find him? We’ve had no success. Our best detectives are on these cases. No clues have narrowed down our search. He definitely has a way of eluding us. Even last night, Elizabeth was killed in a place where a lot of people were leaving a club meeting. Her murderer should have been seen, but he wasn’t. He had slipped away unnoticed. That’s why I believe your theory is better than ours. He has to be something not human. The ghastly ways he has butchered these women makes me consider changing my profession altogether.”

  “Our line of work isn’t any better,” Father replied. “When you’re hired to kill a vampire that is a little child . . . it’s not a duty you think you’ll ever encounter.”