Jack A Grim Reaper Romance (8 page)

“We’ll check the rest of the rooms, but I half suspected if we were to find anything, it would have been here.” He stood and brushed his hands, a stray lock falling carelessly before his eyes.

Lilly’s showed Mason the items she’d taken. “I don’t remember him keeping keys in his drawer before, and I don’t recall the watch, though it may be that he just never wore it.”

He took the watch, popped it open and then clicked it closed before picking up the keys and fingering through them, the sound of brass clanging together. “Do you recognize where they might go to?”

“No. Did I not warn you I’d be of no help?”

“They may still come in handy.” Mason wandered towards the other end of the room, and then paused, his head now tilted to one side. He shifted his weight back and forth from one leg to the other.

Lilly watched as he crouched down, flicked over the corner of the rug, and started tapping on the floor boards. “What are you doing?”

He leaned towards the floorboards while rapping his knuckles on the wood, a smile upon his lips.

“Every man needs a hiding place, love.” He pulled away a loosened plank. “And Jack is no different.”

Lilly’s heart raced as she watched Mason reach in and pull out a leather wrapped bundle. He loosened the thong that held it closed, and laid it open, the metal gleaming in the light as a gasp escaped her lips.

Mason looked at her in question. “You were saying?” Though the bundle held a variety of bizarre instruments, her eyes fell upon the long blade in the middle.

A long blade, its wooden handle stained dark from blood now washed away.

Chapter Seven

London, August 31, 1888

Jack watched from a distance as she worked the street. There were two of them, chatting on the corner as they waited for someone to show some interest. Neither was young, though a life like this was certain to age a person. As a physician, Jack knew the toll poverty could take on a body, and these whores had it even worse, prone to things like syphilis even if they managed to survive the dangers of the streets.

Indeed, one of the two whores present would need not worry about life’s necessities much longer, for tonight would be her last upon this earth. Of that there was no doubt.

Jack had been drawn to this area like he had that first night, too weak to stay away, even when he knew he should keep his distance. It was beyond him to deny the pull, for it was a matter of blood, and blood could not be denied.

It was happening again. Jack’s heart raced and a sweat broke out across his forehead and down his spine, his gut feeling like a belly full of live eels.

She moved away from her friend, and down the dark alley. He approached, and lured her further away from the main street, where they would not be seen or heard.

Jack thought about stopping it—thought about putting an end to the madness. An end to it all.

But in the end, Jack could not. For again, it was a matter of blood.

Chapter Eight

Lilly struggled awake, surprised to find Mason in her bedroom in the middle of the night. His words ricocheted around her head, tearing through her soul.

“It cannot be, Mason.” She refused to believe him. Squinting at the light, her eyes had yet to adjust from being asleep. She looked over at the clock by her bedside. Half past four in the morning.

“Gods help us if this is just the start of it all. Another prostitute in Whitechapel, brutally stabbed a countless number of times. Once again, the woman died before her time, and I cannot even fathom the effect this may have.”

Each word left Lilly more lightheaded than the one before. She knew Mason had spent weeks trying to find Jack with little luck—weeks she’d done her best to avoid Mason’s charms and his bed. Lilly had hoped Jack had left London, gone as far away as possible, so the nightmare could come to an end. And for a while she believed he’d done just that.

“I know not how to find him, Mason. Have the trackers still not had any luck?”

“He’s still evading capture. There’s something else I want to try, but we’ll need to hurry. There’s only a short period of time before the energy fades.” He pulled the covers back and hauled her to feet. “Would you make haste?”

Lilly shrugged her arm out of his grasp, her chest tight with dread. “Please, Mason. I don’t know if I can witness such brutality again. I know I agreed to help, but there must be some other way. I have not the stomach or heart for it.”

Mason locked eyes with hers. “I’d not put you through this if there was another option, but there is not. This can only be accomplished by one who’s been… close… to the reaper who’s left his essence.”

Her eyebrows perked in question. “You mean someone who’s had relations with the reaper.” She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off a chill, her linen nightgown doing little to keep her warm.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.” He cupped her face and brushed a thumb across her cheek. “And you, my dear, are the only reaper with that honor.”

***

Lilly turned into Mason’s shoulder and swallowed her rising bile, their presence hidden and their actions neither seen nor heard. Mason ran a hand down her back, but with such brutality, nothing could soothe her. She squeezed her eyes shut, mentally searching the area, and true enough, Jack’s essence was there on the body.

“I’m sorry to ask you such a thing, but I must. Please take a look and see if there’s anything that stands out to you.” Mason’s voice was firm, though sympathetic and kind.

They had not gone to the scene of the murder, but instead stood with the coroner. The poor woman lay on a long table her body stripped of her clothing, the blood washed away. The metallic tang of blood hung thick in the air, the room cold and bone chillingly damp.

The coroner started his inquest, unaware of their presence. He started by noting the wounds to the woman’s body so his apprentice could record their findings.

“All injuries appear to have been made by the same instrument, a long bladed knife, relatively sharp, with each cut delivered in a violent manner.” He ran his fingertips over her neck. “The victim’s throat has been slashed, not once but twice, the wounds so deep they nearly sever her head from her body. A bruise can be found running along her jaw on the right side of her face.”

He proceeded to examine the rest of her body as he gave his findings. “Several incisions run across the abdomen. One is deep and jagged enough to cut through the tissue beneath. Three, no, four more violent downward slashes cut the right side of the abdomen. All injuries appear to have been made from left to right, as if from a left-handed person.”

Lilly’s breath hitched when she heard those last words—Jack was indeed left handed. Though there may have been more in the coroner’s report, Lilly heard none of it. “I need to go, Mason.
Please.
”

Something in her voice spoke of her desperation, for he did not argue with her, and escorted her out to his carriage. He gave his driver an address and then settled back in his seat, pulling Lilly into his arms. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

She sat up and turned to look at him. “Are you? Because I didn’t see the point of it. Even if I notice things about the murder, how does that get us any closer to Jack?”

Mason shrugged but did not meet her eyes. “It doesn’t.”

She felt as if she might be ill as the realization settled in. “But it does build your case against him.”

“Yes.”

At least he was honest with her. “Why bother, Mason? Since when do the Elders need to build a case against anyone? They just do as they like.”

“Lilly, I’ll be honest with you, because I don’t want deception and half-truths to ruin our friendship.” His words sent her pulse thudding inside her ears, as she anticipated the worst. “With a crime of this magnitude, we’re not dealing only with the murders of these women and the consequences their deaths will have. As a reaper committing the murders, he puts us all in jeopardy—he could change the history of all that has yet to come. The fabric of fate will have holes torn in it as the future is changed. If Jack’s responsible for these untimely deaths, they’ll do more than execute him, Lilly. They’ll send his soul to be tormented for an eternity. He’ll be made an example of.”

A cold sweat trickled down her back as his words sank in. “And you want
me
to help you curse him for all of time? I loved him, Mason. How could you involve me in such a thing? This goes far beyond simply helping you find him.” She shook her head in disbelief. “They’ll condemn him without ever giving him a fair trial. This changes everything.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say, I have no choice, love, and neither do you.”

Needing some distance, Lilly shifted over and sat back, still unable to comprehend it all. Once again she felt betrayed, this time by Mason. And by Jack. Those poor women—dead. She could not comprehend how the man she once loved could be involved in such heinous crimes. She tried her best to steel herself for what would come and it was not long before the carriage stopped in the neighborhood of Whitechapel, near Buck’s Row.

Lilly said not a word and ignored Mason’s offered hand to help her from the carriage, stepping out onto the cobbles. He sighed, but said nothing.

“What is it you want then?” Lilly turned towards him with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a cold hard stare, her mood still sour after Mason’s revelation.

Mason’s lips pursed in annoyance. “Don’t forget what’s at stake, Lilly. You could move on from being a reaper, and keep us all out of trouble. You do remember what it’s like to anger the Elders, aye?”

“How could I possibly forget?” What she endured was never far from her thoughts.

With a gentle hand on her arm, he turned her towards him, his eyes kind but worried. “I want to protect you, love. But I cannot do it if you’re going to fight me every step of the way. Please, Lilly…”

What option did she have? She gave a sigh, and steeled herself for what was to come. “We should get started then.”

“Aye, love. We should.” His touch lingered only a moment more, and then the chancellor was back, focused, sharp and determined.

She shifted between the words, so she’d remain unseen, the familiar tingle traveling over her body, Mason following suit. No one would see or hear them now, like the ghosts they truly were.

Arriving to where the murder occurred, there was not much to see, though it was crawling with police. Curiosity seekers were held back from the area by constables, their numbers growing with each passing moment. Before long, Lilly was sure it’d be thronged with people as word spread of yet another gruesome murder in the district of Whitechapel.

Having seen the extent of the woman’s gruesome injuries, there was surprisingly little blood at the scene. Indeed, had it not been for the police and crowds, one would likely walk past the area and not give it a moment’s notice.

For Lilly and Mason, however, there was more there than could be seen with the naked eye. The energy left behind spoke of the violence—and there, once again, was Jack’s essence. Yet another life wasted, a woman dead before her time.

Lilly wondered how long it would take to feel the effects of this woman’s life cut short. Would a child destined to come into this world now not exist? Even the smaller, seemingly inconsequential things, like talking to another, pausing at a corner, purchasing a dinner, all played a role in a grander scheme. Every breath and action crossed with others, influencing them somehow—only to now not ever happen.

Mason mentioned trying something that involved Jack’s essence and their relations, and it had on her edge. Knowing what had been done to the woman and the uncertainty of what was to come, she could not keep her entire body from stiffening. “What do we do now?”

He took both her hands in his. “First, I’ll need you to think of an intimate moment between yourself and Jack.”

Her brow furrowed and her guard went up. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Mason’s eyebrows drew close in frustration. “Lilly, we don’t have a lot of time left.
Please.
”

“Fine, but let it be known that I’m none too happy about having my intimate memories linked to such horror.”

Mason rolled his eyes in frustration. “Duly noted.”

There were plenty of intimate memories Lilly could choose from, however her heart ached to think the man who held her so tenderly could be such a monster. She thought of the time he’d taken her away to the shore for the week. They’d stayed at his cottage by the ocean, walked on the sandy beach and made love to the sound of crashing waves. There was nothing and no one to bother them—not even their reaps. For an entire week, she once again lived a normal life, allowed to forget what she’d become.

She chose her moment—a thunderstorm. They’d spent the day holed up in the cabin as the rain streaked down the windows and thunder rumbled above, the dark sky flashing with light. He’d made love to her, slow and tender, their bodies pressed together for warmth in the chilled air, the smell of peat burning in the fireplace.