by N. M. Bell
“Agathe Fleischer, it’s Detective Keegan. It’s safe to come out, no one will hurt you.”
Aggie tensed in Jake’s hold. He wrenched her arm higher and slid the knife out and caressed her throat with the edge. “One word, jus’ one sound and I’ll slit yer throat. Hold yer whist, or else.”
She shook and trembled but didn’t make a sound other than almost silent sobs. He extinguished the torch and eased the locker open with his free hand.
“Go,” Father commanded.
“Let her go,” Mam pleaded.
“Look where listening to the she witch got you, Jacob. While she held you in her thrall the faithless bitch at your feet freed herself and almost escaped her just reward.”
Jake hesitated in the doorway, torn between the opposing wishes of his long dead parents. “I can’t let ‘er go, Mam. I can’t, I’m sorry….” Jake apologised to the wavering form of his mother.
“Who are ye talkin’ to? Ain’t no one there, are ye crackers?” Aggie swallowed against the knife pressed on her throat.
“Shut yer hole, woman,” he grated the words, twisting her arm higher. Jake pushed the door open further and dragged his captive onto the slick dock. Keeping to the shadows he sidled along toward the dark maw under the arch of the nearby bridge.
“Aggie! Call out if ye can hear me.”
The damnable Detective Keegan was right on his tail. Judging from the other voices yelling the woman’s name there was a whole posse combing the docks. Shoving the uncooperative woman in front of him, Jake gained the dank muddy strip of land under the half-finished Tower Bridge.
A furtive movement from the darkness at the base of the embankment caught his eye. The terrified face of a mudlark peered up at him. A swift blow to the urchin’s temple with the hilt of his knife rendered the child unconscious. Aggie took the opportunity to kick him sharply in the shin. He stifled a gasp and returned the blade to her throat, scoring a shallow slash which leaked blood onto her bodice.
“One word, one sound and I’ll slice ye like one o’ them steers,” he warned her. “Ye unnerstan’?”
She responded with the tiniest of nods and passively allowed him to shove her further into the shadows. The incoming tide lapped at his feet, the sound magnified by the high arched structure overhead. He huddled in deepest shadows pressing Aggie against the damp stone.
“They won’t gi’ up, ye know that. Vater will keep searchin’ till he finds me. So will Bob,” Aggie whispered.
“Shut yer pie hole,” he hissed in her ear, tightening his grip and pressing the knife harder against her throat. Blood ran down over his fingers, hot then cold, steaming slightly in the chill night air.
“The torch is still smokin’. Found it in this open locker.” Jake recognised auld man Fleischer’s voice.
“Look here.” It was Keegan’s voice. A chill swept over Jake, what the bloody hell did the man find? “Down here, men. I’ve found a trail.” Keegan’s shout carried through the thick fog.
The tide was up to Jake’s ankles, he couldn’t stay where he was much longer. The feckin’ crushers were closing in on him anyway.
“Let her go, Jakie. Turn yerself in and—”
“Be silent, ye lying whore!” Father cut Mam off mid-sentence. “Move, ye moron. Get yer arse away while ye still can.”
Jake gazed at the wavering images of both ghosts. Panic roared in his ears, the thunder of his heart made it impossible to think. What should he do? What could he do?
“Move,” Father thundered.
Spurred into action, Jake sloshed through the rising tide, shoving Aggie ahead of him. He scrambled up the slippery bank on the other side and made to skulk into the sulphurous fog beyond the pale glow of the gas light.
“Over there! I see ‘im.”
The shout froze Jake in his tracks.
“Stop! Police!” The shrill shriek of the Peeler’s whistle pierced the darkness.
“Help!” Aggie broke free enough to evade the knife at her throat.
“Aggie.” Fleischer’s cry was followed by the scrape of boots on the cobbles.
Jake hauled his captive close again and with no other escape route open, stumbled onto the unfinished span of the bridge. Below, the Thames sucked at the pilings, obscenely reminiscent of the hollow sound of a human abdomen being opened. A subconscious thrill ran through Jake as his mind registered the sound and his penis twitched inside the rough material of his pants.
He grasped Aggie by the hair and twisted hard, the pressure pulling her eyebrows upward lending an air of surprise to her terrified features. “One word, bitch. One word…” he let the threat trail off. Crouching low behind the construction works he dragged his captive across the width of the trestle toward the other side of the bridge and freedom.
“Do ye see ‘em? I lost ‘em in the fog.” The voice hung suspended in the thick fugue swirling over the river.
Jake edged closer to the framework of the unfinished construction. The steel working rose like massive skeletons above him. He shoved the woman against the base of one of the uprights and pushed in behind her. He barely allowed breath to enter his lungs listening for any sound of pursuit over the pounding of his pulse. The span across the river was unfinished but if he could just get to across the width of the bride deck maybe he could still escape.
“Let the child go, Jake. Ye can’t escape, there’s no place to run, my little love,” Mam whispered behind him. “T’will go better fer ye, if ye turn yerself in and leave the girl unharmed.”
“Finish the bitch now! Don’t turn from the task the Lord God Almighty appointed for you. Do your duty, you useless whelp,” Father commanded, his shade towering over Jake.
“He’s lyin’, ‘tis not the Lord’s work yer about, but the divil’s. Listen to me, think of yer immortal soul, child.
Father’s ghost turned on Mam the way he had when they lived. Jake longed to sink to his knees and bury his face in his hands. He trembled at the vitriolic words his father hurled like spears at Mam. Unlike the scene that played out time and again when he was a child, she didn’t cower away and accept the blows that surely were coming. A brilliant light illuminated her figure and Father raised a hand to shade his eyes. Jake gazed in amazement as the glow increased and Father stepped back a pace.
He was vaguely aware of Aggie screaming in his ear but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Mam. Agony blossomed in his groin dragging him back to the present. Aggie clawed at the hand that gripped the knife at her throat. Before he could react, the woman brought her knee up between his spread legs, crushing his balls. Bright lights exploded behind his eyes. Savagely, he swiped with the knife and shoved her away from him. She stumbled down the steep incline of the half-finished bridge deck.
“Help! I’m over here. Vater, where are you?” Aggie squealed, one hand on her throat to staunch the flow of blood darkening her gown.
Jake fought to stay upright, spots and dancing lights obscuring his vision. The scrape of many boots on the paving stones and the woman’s hysterical sobbing finally penetrated his hearing.
“Get your arse out of there, idiot child,” Father urged him.
“Give it up, Winncott,” Keegan called from the end of the bridge deck. “There’s no way out, man. Come quietly and it’ll go better for you.”
“Run!” Father commanded.
Jake straightened up his gaze settling on the line of policemen blocking the only possible escape route. His attention flicked to Aggie sobbing in her father’s arms. Regret flooded through him, he let the Lord down, he didn’t complete his mission to cleanse the sin from the woman’s flesh. “I can’t run, Father. There’s no place to go. I have failed you and the Lord.” Jake flung his head back and howled his frustration to the sky.
“He’s bleedin’ insane,” Aggie’s shrill condemnation rose above the murmur of the river. “He’s talkin’ to ghosts all the time and there ain’t no one there.”
Her father hushed her and led her down off the bridge and out of Jake’s si
ght. He eyed the unbroken line of uniformed officers and backed slowly away as they advanced toward him. Jake glanced through the open ironwork to the water below. He could jump he supposed.
“Fight, you coward. If you can’t get away, at least fight like a man and take some of them with you,” Father shouted from the shadows.
“Jakie, come to me, mo chroi. I am here, my little love, come to my arms. I will keep you safe,” Mam called from behind him.
“Stop. Stay where you are, Winncott!” the detective ordered.
Jake continued to edge up the incline of the bridge away from the officers. Father’s voice faded away, somewhere he was still exhorting Jake to use the knife and fight. Fear roiled in his belly, bile pooled in the back of his throat. Caught with nowhere to hide; no kind dark alley to disappear into. Only the river slapping at the embankment below offered any chance of flight. The police advanced steadily and Jake continued to back away. Why were they persecuting him when he had only done as the Lord commanded? He was an avatar of the Almighty, Father said so, and so it must be true. Lucifer was blinding them to the error of their ways, hiding the truth behind lies.
“Jake, ‘tis you who were lied to. What you have done is a sin against Jesus and Mary, his mother,” Mam’s quiet voice accused him.
“Father doesn’t lie,” Jake protested. “He couldn’t. He’s a man of God.”
“Man of God he may profess to be, but his heart is a black hole.”
“No! The Lord sends him to me with orders that must be followed. I am the hand of God, my deeds are His deeds.”
“Think on this then, Jacob. If the man is such a saint why is he still walking this realm as a shade and not taking his reward in Heaven? Saint Peter’s Gates are closed against him for his sinful ways, his hate, and his bigotry. He professes to love the Lord and his son but he abhors the Virgin Mary, saying she is as sinful as the Magdalene for getting wi’ child outside of wedlock.”
The truth of her words penetrated Jake’s panicked thoughts, Mam only ever called him Jacob when she was very serious. Father was always the commanding force in his life, his words and doctrine never to be questioned. Once, just after Mam left when he was very little, Jake had dared to question Father about something. He shuddered at the memory.
“I didn’t leave you, Jakie. He murdered me in cold blood. You know that well, do ye not?”
Memories and disjointed images flooded his mind. Uncontrollable trembling shook him, the knife almost slipping from his nerveless fingers. It was true! His child’s mind remembered the terror and savagery, but his adult mind chose to block it except in unguarded moments. It was so much easier to just follow Father’s orders than to think unpleasant things out for himself. If he was only obeying Father, and through Father the Lord, then any guilt lay on Father’s shoulders and not Jake’s.
“Yer father is dead. Who do you think will have to pay for these sins?” Mam spoke gently.
“Stop where you are, Winncott. You’ll fall off the edge, for God’s sake!” Keegan’s strident voice brought Jake back to the present.
His boots slid on the slick footing, he glanced back over his shoulder and realised he was only a footstep away from the precipice. He turned back; the line of officers formed a half circle across the bridge, blocking the only reasonable escape route open to him. Jake took half a step backward, his fingers tightening on Father’s knife in a convulsive grip. The Thames hissed and sucked far below him as the turning tide began to retreat back to the sea. He looked down through the open grate work at his feet, the whirlpools and currents mesmerising him momentarily. When he returned his attention to Keegan, the man was only a few yards away.
“Jakie, come to me. End this now. If ye chose the river, ye might yet live and get away, but what life would that be? Ye can’t run from yer demons, they’ll gie ye no rest ‘til ye pick up the knife agin and murder poor souls who are only guilty of providin’ fer themselves the only way they can. Jakie, come to me, a stoirin.”
He spared a quick glance at the roiling river. He might survive the plunge and he might very well make good his escape. There was always the Americas, cattle transports were leaving regularly, he could get on with one of them. Father’s form wavered before him. A cold chill swept through him. Mam was right. He would never escape the man. No matter where he went or how he tried to hide, Father would hunt him out and demand he take up where he left off.
Jake turned toward the far bank, balanced precariously on the slick lip of the bridge span, his back to the advancing officers. Mam’s face shone luminous in the shifting waves of mist. She stood suspended, her arms outstretched, welcoming him as she had when he was very young. Before Jake was taught to believe she was a sinful wicked whore who bewitched unsuspecting men.
“It’s all right, Jakie. It’s over. Come to me, my little love. I’ll take ye home, so I will.”
An updraft of wind disturbed his balance and he fought to stay upright. Mam’s soft voice reaching him, her sweet voice singing Sho Sheen, the Irish lullaby easing the panic in his chest and bringing up a host of forgotten memories. She paused after the first verse and extended her arms again. “Come to me, come where it’s safe.”
The scrabble of boots behind him decided him. Jake glanced over his shoulder at the looming line of crushers and then back to Mam’s sweet smile and inviting arms. Without a second thought he whirled toward them and raised Father’s knife. The men stopped in their tracks, transfixed by the dark, stained blade. Jake slashed it across his throat, the blood sprayed out in a fountain before the blackness at the edges of his vision closed in on him. With a sigh of relief, Jake twisted and fell into Mam’s arms. The shocked outcry from his pursuers registered only briefly before it was swept away by Mam’s voice. A small part of him knew the body that had housed him plunged into the Thames, its life’s blood rushing from it. But it didn’t matter. He was home, safe in Mam’s arms.
Even as she held him, the fragile sensation of sanctuary trembled and wavered. Mam regarded him intently, sorrow etching her beautiful face. “Ye know ye will have to answer for the wrongs ye done, don’t ye lad?”
He nodded after a long minute. She was right, of course. Mam stroked his face.
“I can offer ye my love, Jakie. But only the Lord can offer ye absolution. It is Him ye mun face.” She kissed his forehead and pushed back the unruly lock of hair from his face. “Go ye now, and my love go wi’ ye.”
Mam faded from his sight, though her touch lingered. Jake turned toward the ladder of light that manifested before him. He began to climb, secure in the belief the Lord God Almighty was waiting to reward him for the deeds carried out in His holy name.
The End
More Books by this author from Books We Love
Nancy M Bell
Romance
Storm’s Refuge ~ A Longview Romance
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P9UO0TI
Young Adult
The Cornwall Adventures Series
Laurel’s Quest Book One
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MJ1GNWC
A Step Beyond Book Two
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MCEYGF6
About the Author
N.M. Bell is a proud Albertan and Canadian. The author is a member of The Writers Union of Canada and the Writers Guild of Alberta. Nancy has numerous writing credits to her name, and her work has been published in various magazines. She has also had her work recognised and honoured with various awards and has publishing credits in poetry, fiction, and non-fiction
Twitter @emilypikkasso
Website: http://www.nancymbell.ca
Blog: nancymariebell.blogspot.ca
FaceBook: AuthorNancyMBell
http://www.bookswelove.net
it-filter: grayscale(100%); -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share