The Reaper's Kiss

by Robert Southworth

  A memory swam into his mind. A young boy and girl were playing on his father’s estate. The woodland was dense, and the young boy was jumping across one of the many ditches.

  “I can’t,” the girl called out.

  “All you have to do is jump,” the boy replied. His tone sounded his dismay at her inability to traverse the natural barrier.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me, William Harkness. My legs are not as long as yours.”

  The boy sighed, but as he did, he saw a rope tied around one of the branches.

  “Wait a minute.” The boy jumped back across the ditch and began to climb the tree.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Just wait.” William took a small knife from a sheath that was attached to his belt. He cut into the knot and allowed one section of the rope to hang free. He guessed that with the rope being wound around the branch a number of times, it would require no further securing. He began to climb back down the tree, but before he could reach the bottom, the girl had grabbed the rope. “Wait! I don’t know if it’s safe.”

  “Well, we will find out won’t we,” she replied. Without another word, she whooped with joy and swung across the ditch.

  William watched as she sailed across and then landed gracefully on the other side.

  “You’re insane, Emily.”

  “Come on, William. I can’t wait all day for you.” She laughed and ran into the woods.

  William fixed his stare on the tree branch, forcing himself free of the glutinous mud. He clamoured slowly over the bank of the ditch, then lay on his back to regain his breath. He held up his hand and traced it over the base of the tree. It didn’t take long before he found the deep indentations caused by a young man’s blade. His finger moved along the letters, which had been carved on the day that he had first kissed Emily. The beauty of the woman flooded his mind and forced him to rise from the ground. The thought of seeing her again forced him to lift one foot, and then the other. The earth beneath his feet was Cloveney Hall land. The tree had been the proof.

  William was tired, but he knew that Cloveney and safety were not far away. He struggled up a slight slope pausing now and then to take in more air. As he finally reached the summit a figure appeared, and before he could raise his weary hands, a fist shot from the darkness, sending him sprawling back down the slope.

  “I told you that I would kill you, Harkness. When I’m finished having my fun – I will pay a visit to Emily.”

  “What are you planning to do, talk me to death? Be a man for a change, Coldridge. Get down here and use your hands.”

  Coldridge took the pistol from his jacket and dropped it into the mud. The symbolic gesture was not lost on William.

  “You’re tired, William. You can’t beat me.” Coldridge part walked, part slipped down the bank.

  William answered the taunting with a jab that rocked Coldridge’s head back.

  “The time for talking is at an end.” William threw another jab, but Coldridge stepped out of harm’s way. It was bravado on William’s part. His arms felt like lead weights, and he knew that he had no hope of besting Coldridge. However, he was determined to make the bastard bleed before the end. Coldridge threw a punch. William saw it coming but didn’t have the energy to move out the way. It caught him on the top of the head, and forced him backwards. Coldridge must have sensed William’s exhaustion and quickly closed the gap. He threw punch after punch. William managed to block a few but most found their target. Within just a few minutes, William was beaten and bloodied, but refused to fall. Coldridge raced forward and took William to the ground. William attempted to throw blows, but it wasn’t long before a pair of strong hands were around his throat. He struggled but could feel his body failing as it yearned for air. He started to lose consciousness as darkness overwhelmed him.

  Chapter 30

  Sir Simeon Harkness reached into his jacket to obtain his flask. As he took a drink, he thought he heard voices. As he strained to hear better, he was sure he heard a man threaten to kill someone. He slipped out of his heavy coat and unslung his hunting rifle. Picking his way through the trees and undergrowth, he realised that the sound of voices had stopped. He quickened his pace. Then, directly to his front, the moonlight picked out a shape on the floor. He raced forward, he did not know why, but every inner sense screamed at him to close on the form.

  It was not until he was within five paces that he realised that the shape was two men and the one in need of help was his son. Without breaking his stride, Simeon slipped the rifle from his shoulder and use it as a club. The power of the blow plucked his son’s attacker from the ground and sent him flying through the air. Simeon dropped to his knees at the side of William.

  “William!” Simeon tried to feel for a pulse, but his hands were numb with cold. “Wake up, come on boy.” Simeon slapped his son around the face. Panic was filling his mind; he slapped William’s face again. Simeon raised his hand for the third time, but another hand caught his wrist.

  “Father, I have had a bad day. Enough with the slapping.”

  Simeon pulled his son to his chest.

  “I thought I lost you. My boy – my beautiful boy,” Simeon sobbed. All of the emotion that had been caged since William’s abduction broke free.

  “I’m tired that is all, Father. Where is Coldridge?”

  Simeon looked over to Charles Coldridge and noticed that he was recovering from the blow. Simeon pushed the rifle into William’s hand and then rose from the ground.

  “It seems that the bastard is waking.”

  “Be careful. He is not the bullying coward he used to be,” William replied.

  Simeon waited until Coldridge had got to his feet and then took two steps towards him.

  “Giving your weapon away is not an act of intelligence,” Coldridge announced as he fingered his scalp and studied the blood.

  “I believe I warned you to stay away from my son. I don’t give more than one warning.” Simeon took another step.

  “The time that I give a damn what the great Sir Simeon Harkness thinks or says has long since passed.” He slipped a hand into his jacket and withdrew a blade. “I’m going to gut you, old man. Then I’m going to cut your boy into little pieces.”

  “Hmm, you seem to be mistaking me for my son.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Coldridge spat out the question.

  “William is a man who lives by a code. Like an Arthurian knight in a world of deceit and treachery. It must be a trait passed to him by his mother. Because Coldridge,” Simeon quickly drew his pistol, “I’m not interested in playing fair. I’m going to kill you, and make sure it bloody hurts.” Coldridge’s eyes open wide as Simeon pulled the trigger. The bang and flash were followed by Coldridge calling out in agony as he clutched his left knee and fell to the ground. Simeon moved closer as he pulled back the hammer of his pistol. “That must hurt.” He dropped the barrel so that it pointed to Coldridge’s right knee, and fired. Coldridge yelled out in agony, but Simeon was immune to his misery. He stepped on the hand that still held a blade and fired another shot. Simeon turned and walked back to William. He picked up the hunting rifle and left the pistol. After returning, he pointed the hunting rifle directly at Coldridge’s face. “Anything to say, Charles.”

  “Please don’t…” Coldridge’s plea for mercy was cut short as the rifle fired.

  “No – nothing to say. Jolly good.”

  Simeon returned to William and helped him to his feet.

  “I know you are tired, but Emily needs you.”

  “What is wrong?”

  “The child is making its appearance. I think it would be beneficial for you to do the same. Where have you been?”

  “Hartshill Castle. Faraday, helped me escape.”

  “Then where is he?”

  “He’s dead. So is the Ripper.”

  “I doubt anyone will mourn that bastard’s passing,” Simeon replied.

  “Father, it was the Professor.”

/>   “But…” Simeon went to reply, but William had obviously guessed what he was about to ask.

  “He had faked his own death. It was strange that he still considered himself to be my friend.”

  “He was always a strange fish. I suppose he definitely is dead this time?”

  “I put a bullet in his brain, which is usually fairly certain.”

  “I will send the men to search for his remains in the morning, but we have more pressing matters.”

  ***

  Simeon Harkness walked into Emily’s room. Miss Bull cast him a look that suggested that she was less than impressed that he had broken his word to Emily. He ignored her and went to Emily’s side.

  “How are you my dear girl?” he asked.

  “William – did you find William?”

  “He is a little untidy, not suitably attired to welcome my grandson into the world. He will be along presently.”

  “He’s here?” Emily began to sob.

  Simeon leaned forward and embraced her.

  “Calm yourself. William is here and you both have a child to welcome into the world.”

  “Emily,” a voice sounded from the doorway.

  Simeon turned to see his son. He rose from the bed to allow William to take his place. His son moved to embrace Emily.

  “I told you that I would be here,” he said in a gentle tone.

  “And the Ripper?” she asked.

  “Dead and in the past.”

  “You spoke to him?” Emily suddenly looked fearful.

  “I did. As I have said, the Ripper belongs to the past. Another world that we cannot change or influence but we do not have to let it dictate our future. Now enough of him – let us think of our child.”

  Simeon watched the exchange and had no clue to what it all meant. He suddenly felt weary and decided to leave the young couple and the ever-present Miss Bull to the task of bringing a child into the world. Sleep was out of the question, but a glass of whiskey and a cigar would invigorate the soul. He gave one last look at the young couple, smiled, and walked away.

  Chapter 31

  The noise seemed far away. Sir Simeon Harkness forced himself to open his eyes. An empty bottle lay on its side on the desk to his front. He remembered that one glass had turned to many on the previous night. Rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, he tried to think clearly. In the distance, he heard footsteps in the corridor, and then the main door to Cloveney Hall swung open. Simeon walked from his study and arrived in the hallway just as Tomkins was welcoming visitors into Cloveney.

  “Morning gentlemen.”

  Naismith smiled.

  “Good morning, Sir Simeon. If you don’t mind me saying so, you look a little rough around the edges.”

  “That’s because…” Simeon stopped speaking as the images of the previous night swam into his mind.

  “Sir Simeon are you…” Naismith began to speak.

  Simeon held up a hand to prevent further comment.

  “Would you just excuse me for a few moments?” Without waiting for a reply, Simeon crossed to the staircase and rushed upwards, taking two steps at a time. When he reached the landing, he raced towards Emily’s room. However, he was stopped in his tracks as he neared. Miss Bull appeared from the room and held a finger to her lips.

  “They’re asleep, and we should let them rest,” she whispered.

  “They?” Simeon asked.

  “William, Emily and your grandson,” she smiled.

  “Is everything… I mean are they…?” Simeon stuttered, almost afraid to ask.

  “All three are fine. But mother, father, and child require sleep. As do I for that matter.” She rubbed her eyes to emphasise her weariness.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked.

  “Tomkins told me that you were asleep, and to be quite honest Sir Simeon, you would have been no bloody use.”

  He gave a reserved chuckle.

  “Quite right, Miss Bull. May I suggest that you take the opportunity to rest. I will send one of the maids should our new parents need assistance.” She did not reply, but merely nodded, and then moved down the corridor to her room. Simeon watched her go and then stood perfectly still as he let the news of a grandchild, take hold. He wiped a tear from cheek and quickly moved to his room. Once there, he washed and changed clothes.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Simeon had journeyed back to the ground floor of Cloveney Hall. He could hear voices emanating from the dining room. Simeon straightened his jacket and took a brief look in the large ornate mirror that hung on the wall. He told himself that he looked a little more presentable and then walked to the dining room.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. Forgive the tardiness of my appearance earlier.”

  “Is there something wrong Sir Simeon?” Naismith asked.

  “May I have one of those coffees, Tomkins.” Simeon waited for his drink to be poured and then held his cup aloft. “Not the best drink to make a toast but we shall persevere.”

  “What do we have to toast,” growled Abberline.

  “Gentlemen, last night William returned to this household.” Simeon paused as the room filled with both happiness and relief at his son’s return.

  “Is he unharmed?” Gossup asked.

  “A few minor injuries but nothing to cause concern. However, that was not our only arrival. Cloveney Hall welcomed a new edition. My grandson came into the world last night.” Simeon beamed with delight, which was matched by those in the room. He shook hands and even enjoyed the moment that Naismith threw social standing aside, rushing from his seat to give an exuberant embrace.

  “Sir Simeon, that is fantastic news, it could not be better,” Naismith announced as he continued the embrace.

  “Do you think so? My son has returned. My grandson has arrived and,” he paused allowing his words to gain weight, “the Ripper is dead.”

  “What?” Asked Abberline as he slumped back down onto his chair, the news naturally caused the old inspector a certain amount of shock.

  “Many of you knew the Professor. It turns out that he was the Ripper all along. He faked his death in the park. Last night William shot him dead, and so, put an end to his slaughter. Charles Coldridge was also a member of Cronos.”

  “And where is that bastard?” Abberline asked.

  “Feeding the beasts. I killed him within the grounds of Cloveney.”

  Naismith shook his head in apparent disbelief.

  “Where did the Ripper meet his end?” he asked.

  “Just a few miles away at Hartshill Castle,” Simeon replied.

  “But that was on the list we obtained from Drummonds. Forgive me, Sir Simeon,” Naismith blushed as he apologised.

  “Whatever for?”

  “I told the men to rest. If I had insisted that they fulfil their tasks in good time, then perhaps William would have been home far sooner.”

  “Wait!” Gossup was suddenly animated. “If William was at Hartshill Castle, then where are Jack and John?”

  “I haven’t any idea,” Simeon replied feeling confused by the question.

  “They’re both dead,” a voice sounded from the doorway. Each head looked passed Simeon to observe William entering the room.

  “That bastard Ripper!” Abberline announced.

  “He was a bastard, but that crime belonged to Charles Coldridge. He laid a trap for them,” William replied. He killed our friends for no other reason but to spite me.”

  “How do you know?” Gossup asked.

  “Coldridge made me watch as they died.”

  “I shouldn’t have sent them,” said Naismith, as he lifted a handkerchief to his eyes,

  “You didn’t. John took my place because I wanted to be with Alfie.” Gossup slammed his fist on the dining table. “John should be here – not me.”

  “Enough!” Simeon ordered. “Recriminations only add to the power that the Ripper wields. I will not permit him that honour. I would not allow that in life, and I will be damned if I will allow
it, in death. The Ripper and his followers are responsible. Put other thoughts out of your mind.” He paused to allow his words to take effect. “Now, I see that we have only one further task. Hartshill Castle must be searched for bodies and the previous owners.”

  “And to bring our friends home to be buried,” Gossup interrupted.

  “We will bring them home, Goss. We must see if our enemy still lurks within its walls. Be ready to move within the hour. Make sure that you are well nourished – we have no clue as to the duration of our task.”

  “I will get dressed,” William announced as he turned to leave.

  “No, William. You will remain here with Emily and my grandson. You are wounded, and Emily has spent too long without your presence.”

  ***

  The men were ready and mounted to travel within the hour, and within two they were just a few hundred paces from Hartshill Castle. Simeon took out an old eyeglass; the object would have been more at home on the deck of Nelson’s HMS Victory. However, its age did not detract from its usefulness. He raised the glass to his eye and spied the still smoking ruin of the castle. He did not rush his inspection. He could see that the gates that once guarded the entrance were all but gone, only broken and blackened timbers stood as testament that they ever existed. He passed the eyeglass to Tallow, who studiously observed the remnants of the castle.

  “Looks deserted,” he announced as he lowered the glass.

  “There’s one way to find out. I will send word when it’s safe,” replied Gossup. He urged his mount forward.

  “Gossup! It may not be prudent…” Simeon began.