“Yes, and although our young friend Graven is not the young actor he appears to be, I suspect I will turn that job over to the authorities rather than take it on myself.”
“Don’t say as I blame you there.”
A tight grin creased Arthur’s face. Stepping to the bed, the toe of his shoe met resistance beneath the bed with a click. Lowering to one knee, he pulled a small brown medical bag from underneath. “Mr. Stoker, I believe I have found your proof.”
“Trophies?”
Pulling the bag up to the bed, he set it down. “Yes. The Ripper cut out the uterus on four of the first five victims.”
“He was interrupted before he could do that to Elizabeth Stride.”
“Right you are, Bram, right you are. Thus, I hypothesize that his trophy has changed from the initial obvious choice.”
Moving beside Arthur, Bram leaned forward and opened the bag. “Vials of blood.”
“As I expected, vials of blood.” Arthur smirked.
“There’s one problem, though.”
“One problem? A man kills as many as eleven women on the streets of London, and you only see one problem?”
“Yes, The Ripper killed eleven, that’s what I thought, too.”
“Some would say only five, but I believe eleven sounds correct.”
Bram looked up at Arthur. “There are more than eleven vials in this bag.”
“What?” Arthur tugged the bag away and dipped a gloved hand inside. “Many more than…” His mouth kept moving in a silent count.
Lowering to one knee, Bram looked beneath the bed.
“Ninety-four? How could there be ninety-four if he…”
“There’s more,” Bram stated with a disappointed tone.
“More?”
By the time Bram had pulled all the identical medical bags from beneath the bed, they had counted thirty-eight.
“Arthur, some of these are so heavy. The first one was not even full.”
“It’s the one he’s currently using.”
“What is he doing? There are hundreds…”
“Thousands,” Arthur hissed his correction. “If each vial is a separate victim, he’s killed thousands.” His normal arrogance was completely gone now.
“What do we do?”
Turning to Bram, he opened his mouth.
A double staccato chirp sounded behind them.
Both jumped and turned towards the dresser.
A double red flash brightened the low wall behind the dresser.
“What fresh demon is this?”
“Arthur?”
“I’m not sure what it is?” He moved to the dresser and looked behind it. He crouched, reached beneath the dresser and pulled out a four-inch long metallic tube with a red button on the end.
“Arthur, what is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this.” With a pale face, Arthur lifted it to show Bram.
“Maybe if we take it down to the pub and have Lady Amanda set us up with some drinks before we study it.
“My friend, that sounds like a splendid idea.” Arthur’s face showed relief that the idea of leaving this place brought to him. He moved his hand, intending to drop the tube into his pocket and his thumb brushed the red button, depressing it into the tube.
The device chirped again.
Arthur flashed away.
“Oh shit, Arthur. Now I really need that drink,” Bram said to the empty room.
…to be continued
Savannah returns October 7, 2016 in:
The Orphan War – Savannah Book Three
Author C.P. McClennan
Chris lives, writes and enjoys free thought in the mystical land of Toronto…but he can’t dance.
Twitter – @stranded_in_to
Facebook – Author C.P. McClennan
Website – www.strandedintoronto.com
Darwin's Sword: Savannah - Book Two Page 16