Superhero Adventures, UK Style

1.30 am, Sunday 30 September 1888

Although the team was momentarily disorientated, the words ‘Whitechapel Murderer’ coming from the window above immediately resonated with Mace. De Bois, her dead guardian and trainer turned employer had insisted she learn everything she could about infamous serial killers starting with ‘Saucy Jack’ and as soon as she heard the yell from above she immediately ignored her bike with its unconscious cargo and began sprinting through the thick fog towards the shouts and screams.

Which one of his victims was this she wondered? She slammed into the back of an already gathered crowd standing in front of some wicker gates on a narrow courtyard off Berner Street, beside an occupied Working Man’s Club. Going by the peals of laughter and raised voices from inside, it was clear that the people inside didn’t yet know about what had occurred just outside their door. It was as she took in the stares from the others gathered that she again realised her skin-tight clothing made her stand out even in such an odd crowd and was glad when Mary and Akira caught up with her.

A woman lay in the courtyard, her head and torso covered with a Policeman’s heavy overcoat. Several officers were trying to keep the crowd back with a sergeant, ‘Johnny Upright’ as someone in the crowd called him, seemingly in charge or he was until a man with mutton chop whiskers and dressed in finer clothes than the others arrived to survey the scene, Sgt ‘Upright’ addressed the new arrival as Inspector Abberline. With him was a man carrying a doctor’s bag. The gentleman had his hair cut in a neat widows peak under his hat, a tidy full moustache, was dressed in a long raincoat with the collar turned up and was referred to by the Inspector as Doctor Doyle.

As he pushed his way through the crowd to examine the body he nodded at two people in the crowd, a tall slender Jewish Rabbi who responded rather curtly, almost hostilely and to another man, smaller, with a neat beard and older than the Doctor who he referred to as ‘Bram’, his voice a mix of Scots and Irish accents.

This ‘Bram’ seemed intent on searching first the gathered crowd then the nearby streets and alleys and quickly moved off obviously intent on looking for something or someone. There was another figure that stood out, a man with a walking stick that he leant on heavily, his hair and beard wild from neglect yet dressed in extremely fine clothes as befitted a gentleman. He too seemed to be focused more on the distant figures moving through the mist than he was on the murdered woman; his eyes red rimmed from a lack of sleep had a wildness and savagery about them.

Inside the Police Cordon, Dr Doyle knelt to examine the body and pulled the coat away to reveal a female lying on the ground with a blood covered right hand covering her chest, her face was quite placid with the mouth slightly open, her throat had been severed but there had been no abdominal wounding. Mace could just make out the Doctor arguing with the inspector about the three parallel slices across her throat as he quietly stated that in his opinion it indicated the use of some sort of weapon other than a knife or scalpel with a singular blade. Despite the straightness of the cuts, the multiple parallel neck wounds in particular was almost claw-like and he suggested that the killer might have used blades attached to the fingers of their glove or worn the blades in some way on his fingers. Doyle then muttered something about “Your bloody coroner will cover this up as well, I’ve no doubt.”

One of the patrons of the club stumbled out at that moment and muttered, “Bloody hell, someone’s ripped her for good ‘aint they? Is that Long Liz? Ah, I think that’s Elizabeth Stride Constable, she was apparently seeing some posh geezer tonight.”

Elizabeth Stride? Mace remembered that it was believed that her killer had apparently been disturbed by a passing horse and cart and had been forced to leave before he had ‘finished’. There had been a second victim tonight, not far from here. She about to blurt out to the Police that they needed to head to Mitre Square immediately when she heard Akira’s voice over her commdot. “We need to be careful and not change history, who knows what the consequences could be. We mustn’t interfere.” Mace turned and said aloud, “I’d gladly change this particular piece of history.” Again over her comms she heard Akira whisper, “We mustn’t, we mustn’t.”

Nearby the man with the cane and the wild hair was talking to one of the Constables asking him how many victims had this monster attacked now. The officer replied that if they counted the disappearing Fairy Fay and the gang attacks, this would be the “sixth or seventh victim since Boxing Day”. Mace knew that although there were five definite victims that the Police would eventually decide had been victims of the Ripper, there were a number of other murders initially attributed to him.

Overhearing this, Akira again subvocalized over the comms, “Be careful what you say Mace, you obviously know a lot about these murders but you could reveal things they don’t yet know and change the course of history.” Again speaking aloud an angry Mace turned towards her companions and said, “I want to change history; I don’t want any more women to be slaughtered. We’ve got to save these women; I want to protect them if we can.”

The Rabbi must have overheard what was being said as he turned and looked at her, almost analysing her with his dispassionate gaze.

Akira responded, moving over and leaning in close to Mace’s ear, “This has already happened, this is already recorded history. They all have to be slaughtered at the appointed time in the appointed fashion otherwise anything could happen as a result.”

Mace continued to argue, muttering that the killer had either been a doctor or Jewish… That really caught the Rabbi’s attention and he slowly began to move through the crowd towards them. Time to get out of there, Mary lent over and started to pull Mace away and headed back towards the alley and their unconscious and abandoned companion.

They kept up the conversation over their commdots, subvocalising as both Akira and Mary tried to explain to Mace that they couldn’t risk changing the past as the consequences could be devastating. Akira summed it up, “we really just want to get Locker and ourselves home.” Mace was adamant, “no, I want to try and save these women if we can.” She turned and began returning towards the crowd.

Their argument was interrupted by Inspector Abberline, a usually soft-spoken bank manager-like person shouting that a substantial reward was being offered for the capture of the Whitechapel murderer and that they were currently seeking information on the whereabouts of one John Pizer, sometimes known as ‘Leather Apron’.

That caught the crowds attention as several ‘Peelers’ began circulating in the crowd trying to overhear some information that might help. Meanwhile the body was being loaded onto a cart so it could be transferred back to the mortuary. They could hear the Doctor and the Inspector talking, with Dr Doyle explaining that “I really want to carry out the autopsy.” The Inspector replied, “I’m sorry you can’t. You’re not an authorised coroner; I’m probably in trouble for asking you to inspect the body and crime scene as it is.”

Risking it, Mary and Akira rushed back to check on Locker, heading into the darkened alleyway which still lacked ‘modern day’ gas lighting, Akira called up the Illusions of Idolon and changed the bike once more into the image of a donkey while disguising Locker’s unconscious form as a couple of sacks of flour. Akira realised he more resembled a European opium addict in this era than a working man but it would have to do for now. He activated the bike so it would follow behind them as they immediately headed back towards the courtyard.

They arrived back just in time to see the Inspector leaving the scene with several officers and half the crowd following on. Mace explained that that the second body had been discovered down in Mitre Square. Again, her words were overheard by the tall Rabbi and caused Akira to caution her that, “we are not here to stop the Ripper.” Reluctantly Mace nodded but suggested they might be here “to save the women. I really want to try and save the last victim as you know what happened to her, don’t you?” Mary quietly pointed out that “We’re here to rescue Locker and don’t forget the vampires on the loose.” Mace continued to argue fervently.

Akira, seeing the Rabbi was following them closely, cautioned Mace “to be careful what you say. It might sound to others as though you are in on it since you know what’s going to happen before it occurs. Silence is a great source of strength…” “So we just let them get sliced up then, yes?” was the murmured reply.

The crowd, including the Rabbi, followed on and soon arrived at Mitre Square though not the wild looking man or the one Doyle had referred to as ‘Bram’ who had gone their own separate ways apparently searching for something or someone else though not necessarily the same thing or one.  Mary brought up the rear, wary of vampires in the fog.

When the rest of them arrived at Mitre Square the area was poorly lit and was surrounded on two sides by warehouses belonging to ‘Kearley & Tonge’. A young man with an American accent was the watchman but he claimed to have seen nothing. The third side of the square had three empty houses and the far side just behind the corpse were two houses one of which was apparently occupied by a policeman though the other was empty. A policeman claimed that he patrolled the Square every quarter of an hour and had discovered the body at 1.45am.

Again a cordon was set up to stop everyone from getting too close and Dr Doyle and the Inspector headed over to examine the body. Mace knew that this was all that remained of Catherine Eddowes. Her throat had been cut, her body had been badly mutilated and part of her bloodstained apron was missing, having been cut away.

Dr Doyle knelt down to examine the corpse and even at that distance Mace’s eagle eyes could see that the throat had been cut multiple times. Having carried out an initial analysis at the scene he was again saying to the Inspector as they walked out of the square, “I don’t care what you say this looks as though the wounds were made by multiple blades at the same time, not a single blade being used multiple times. Those wounds were all inflicted at the same time. I disagree with your coroner completely. These injuries were not caused by a man armed with a scalpel.”

Unfortunately they couldn’t get close enough to examine the corpse themselves. That wasn’t what the Police reports had stated so either time had been changed or for some reason someone had, was, covering facts up, but if so, why?

Mace muttered under her breath, “Now they will find the rest of the missing apron and the message. That only leaves Mary Kelly on the 9th of November.”

The Rabbi was nearby and must have heard Mace as he turned on the three of them as though trying to figure out who they were. Attack is supposedly the best form of defence thought Akira as with a big smile plastered across his face, he turned and asked the Rabbi “Excuse me sir but you seem to be taking a lot of interest in the proceedings, can I ask why?”

Instead on responding, the man in the thick beard looked at him closely like a scientist examining a bug under a microscope and said accusingly, “The same can be said of you three.”

Akira responded “I wasn’t implying anything I just wondered if this was more than just a casual interest…?” The Rabbi lent in and whispered, “It was not I or any of my flock that carried out this act, can the same be said of you? So, who are you and what do you want?” As Akira tried to respond he continued, “We’ve got used to unnatural things around here of late and none of you are natural are you?”

Akira responded “Ah no, I am a great Sage.” Again, the Rabbi examined him closely from head to foot before replying, “I can see that you give the illusion of someone who is addicted to opium but I do not see any great wisdom in you.”

Akira continued with his madcap questioning, “Can I ask if you are a member of the Jewish Socialist Club by any chance?” The rabbi smiled, “Why do you ask?” “Because there is a lot of talk at present about anti-Semitism lately in the socialist movement and it’s something that troubles me greatly.”

The Rabbi took a step back from them and looked at the three of them again warily before replying, “Nothing about you makes sense.” Akira smiled, “this is very true indeed.” The Rabbi continued, “You are as I said unnatural but not in a religious way, you do not belong here. You are… out of synchronicity with the here and now, as are your two friends. The way you talk to yourselves yet your friends appear to be able to hear and respond to you even when you are some distance apart.”

Akira responded, “I am just a mendicant philosopher with a side business in selling flour” and indicated at the “donkey” and its sacks of flour behind him.

Mace muttered, unable to help herself, “anytime now they will find the anti-Semitic message…” even as they saw the Doctor enter a Hansom Cab and depart. A minute or so later an out of breath Police officer arrived and spoke haltingly with the Inspector who immediately sent two officers heading off even as the wild bearded man again passed by looking furtive though when he saw the second corpse, a look of horror washed over his face as though he had just seen a ghost.

Mace was sure that the two officers were heading towards Goulston Street where the missing part of her bloodstained apron had been found next to a message written in chalk on the wall ‘the Juwes are not the Men that will be Blamed for nothing’. That message would quickly be removed she knew, supposedly to protect the Jewish community around there though she was aware that the chalk message might also have connections to the higher levels of freemasonry.

The Rabbi stepped away from the crowd and they found themselves almost unconsciously following him, “So who or what is it are you seeking?” He asked. Akira quickly explained that they were “looking for this woman’s hus… ah, brother” and indicated Mace, “He has a similar dark complexion, a bit sullen and is big, dressed in leather. He is fam…ily and we have a responsibility towards him. Have you seen him?”

“I have not seen the man you have described but I have seen a lot of people who have been acting strangely, like yourselves.” Akira excitedly asked “Where?”

The Rabbi pointed at the corpse, “The poor woman that was slaughtered for one. She herself was acting unnatural. Over the last few weeks she had looked younger, like a teenager in full blossom not at all like her actual age as revealed by death and her actions in who she sought out as customers. Or unnatural like the newly arrived Prince of Transylvania who does not fear to walk the streets of London without an escort and, even more unnatural, has never been attacked or had his possessions stolen. Or unnatural like his young companions who suddenly shun the light or the many homeless soldiers that have been vanishing off the streets of late… I call all of that unnatural, as I do you three. May I ask what is with your companion?”

Akira looked surprised, “Which companion?” He pointed towards Mace and indicated Mace’s skin-tight clothing, “Her mode of attire will get her attention that is unseemly.” Mace blushed, “I need other clothes.”

“Come, I will take you to a family I know of good stock who will be able to lend you clothes more suitable.” Mace nodded, she didn’t want to change her clothes, she liked her costume but the Rabbi was right she did attract a lot of attention dressed the way she was.

With that he nodded his head slightly and said, “Let me introduce myself I am Rabbi Shalach Holmz, I supervise the nearby Synagogue and Yeshivot.”

Mary remembered another Rabbi with the same surname who had helped them defeat the ghostly presence of Raggedy Anne and later had helped them try to find her ‘almost-niece’, was this man his ancestor? It seemed likely. And with that name was that the reason for the animosity with a certain Doctor Doyle? Mary was willing to lay bets that the Doctor’s middle name was Conan.

As they talked, the Rabbi headed away from the murder site towards a rundown tenement and into a neglected one bedroom property in a bad part of the city. Inside was a woman, middle-aged looking despite only being in her late twenties, surrounded by several young children. The woman appeared to sell old clothes obtained from middle class families. Slightly wary of the strange dusky-skinned woman in the form-fitting clothing before her, she offered her the pick of her dresses. Mace found a plain dark coloured dress that wasn’t too threadbare. It was lacking in bustles or excessive ornamentation and she slipped it over her own clothes whilst refusing the offer of a corset. Mary was just glad her own clothes did not draw too much attention in this era and transformed with her.

Without thinking, Akira began talking about food, having not eaten for some time. It was obvious that they didn’t have food to spare but the embarrassed woman immediately began looking around trying to figure out how to make their family meal stretch even further when the Rabbi explained that they would be able to stay at his home and he would arrange some food and immediately led them out into the street heading back towards the scene of the first murder that night.

He was still saying that there was something abnormal about them but this was an abnormal time. “Why do you call this an abnormal time?” wondered Akira. The Rabbi waited until the street was empty and turned, “We have people who walk the streets that should not be walking them, we have people vanishing, men, soldiers primarily, recently returned from wars vanishing never to be seen again. We are finding women who previously worked the streets to keep body and soul together, just like the two women we have just seen, who are now deliberately targeting men, ex-soldiers without money. A few days later these women are turning up dead, brutally mutilated. Everything about this is unnatural. Everything since the first woman vanished from the mortuary, Fairy Fay.”

Mary muttered, “It’s possible that vampires are preying on the women, turning them so they then target the men…” Mary had unpleasant memories of living through this point in history in Dublin and was glad she had elected to stay there rather that join the exodus to either England or America like thousands of others. No risk of running into herself in this here and now.

As they approached a rundown house next to a small synagogue and school building several people approached the Rabbi and spoke to him in what they assumed was some form of Yiddish – it sounded different to the Hebrew they’d heard spoken in Israel. Unfortunately their translator units weren’t set up for either Hebrew or Yiddish, but certain words cross-matched with languages in their on-board database and they got the impression it had to do with written messages and threats. As they walked away he looked shaken as he explained “they found a message chalked on a wall next to some clothing belonging to one of the victims, it reads ‘the Jews are not the men that will be blamed for nothing.’ I’ve had to warn my people to stay indoors tonight as the message has got out, despite the Police washing it off. There will be people out tonight looking for revenge against us ‘Shylocks’.” Again he went on to explain that these murders were nothing to do with him or his people, but given the animosity against Jews the world over, someone was using his people as a scapegoat.

He opened the door to the yard and entered the kitchen where he began putting together the makings of a meal. As they entered behind him he pointed at the ‘sacks of flour’ on the ‘donkey’ and asked, “You are welcome to spend the night here but don’t you want to take him in as well?”

“What do you mean?” said Akira slightly annoyed his illusion had been uncovered, The Rabbi sighed before continuing, “As I said, unnatural, your sacks breathe and move ever so slightly while your so-called donkey does neither. This is therefore a trick. I assume he is unable to move himself yet it is obvious that he is not in his cups and has been mystified somehow so better bring him inside.” As the illusion dissipated, he smiled, “Sometime you must teach me that trick, it’s an interesting diversion but it does have its limitations.” In the safety of the yard Akira with Mace’s help carried Locker inside.

Akira wondered if they should patrol the streets tonight as Mary asked the Rabbi if he knew where the Prince of Transylvania resided? As he cut up some vegetables he replied, “I know not where the Prince goes other than none of my street urchins have discovered either a hotel that he boards in or a mansion rented or lent to him by others. Where he rests is unknown but he has a taste for women and does occasionally frequent some of the better establishments, though I did hear say that several had banned him of late after the girls he frequented left without notice to follow him. Some have even gone as far as to whore on the streets for him apparently. His presence in the city has also brought others in his wake and I fear this murderer is one of them.”

Mary asked did he know of any establishments that hadn’t yet banned the Prince? The Rabbi continued to chop up vegetables as with a smile he replied, “That is not one of my areas of expertise. But if you willing to wait until the morning, I will ask some of my young flock, my irregulars to search for the Prince. My group of homeless children will find him if anyone can. Meanwhile my meal is yours and you are welcome to stay the night. The ladies will share the bedroom and please for the sake of my reputation if not your own, I must ask you to lock the door. Your ah, less vocal friend needs help, so please stay here. It seems I must again call in a favour on your behalf.”

As he prepared to head out again into the night, Akira surreptitiously cast a warding spell on Locker to protect him if and when they weren’t around. He focused on bringing the Third Wheel of Weyan into reality and settled its protection over Locker’s unconscious form which should help ward of all creatures of chaos and disorder. It wouldn’t stop a focused attack but it would hopefully mean they wouldn’t have to stand guard over him at all times.

The Rabbi left the stew cooking as he headed back out into the night. The others discussed various options to draw out those they sought. Akira suggested disguising himself as a penniless soldier and importuning a lady of the night, despite having no local money or knowing which of the many lost souls wandering the street bed-less for the night were the ones he wanted to meet. He hoped by claiming to be penniless he would only attract the attention of those with ulterior motives. Mace made a counter offer to portray a prostitute herself and hope that she attracted the attention of whatever was ‘recruiting’ woman. They debated who would make the better bait.

Twenty minutes later the Rabbi returned with a familiar face. It was the same doctor they had seen at the crime scene, Dr Doyle. Akira wasn’t sure this was such a good idea but Mace was delighted. He introduced himself as Dr Arthur Doyle.

Mary smiled, “I bet you have a middle name you use a lot, sir” No, Ignatius is rarely used? Ah but I see you may have read my book so yes, I am the author of a Study in Scarlet, I am that Arthur Conan Doyle…” He looked happy at finding fans until the Rabbi broke the silence with a quietly spoken, “And where I wonder did the name and idea for your main character come from my good doctor, eh?”

Dr Doyle looked at Rabbi Shalach Holmz and was suitably embarrassed. He broke away to examine Locker. Several minutes later he gave his conclusion that there was no physical reason that he could see for why the young man was in a deep catatonic state but if he was to survive would need to be given water using a sponge to his mouth. If things did not get better soon then they would need to consider force-feeding him if he was to survive.

Mary took the opportunity to ask him what it was that he disagreed about with the Police. Slightly taken back that they’d overheard his comments to the Inspector he replied, “I am convinced that the blades being used to mutilate the victims are some sort of scalpels attached either to a glove or potentially worn on someone’s fingers like bladed rings. The majority of the wounds I examined indicated the use of multiple blades cutting at the same time. For some reason the coroner is covering this fact up. The Police reports fail to record this and claim that the murderer is a madman armed with a long sharp knife. The public reports have also been falsified to back up this claim and I do not know why the Police Force is agreeing to this. Why the Doctor carrying out the autopsies is deliberately falsifying his reports. It’s very frustrating.”

“Could it not just be a monster with razor-sharp talons?” asked Akira. Doyle smiled, “Next you’ll be telling me about some hellish beast that roams a moor somewhere, some monstrous hound perhaps?” Akira muttered “There are stranger things, I for one believe in fairy’s” as he smirked at the Doctor who looked at him quite surprisingly and said “for me, what is the saying the jury is still out? I have not seen proof.” “Well one day photographic evidence may come to light..?”

Dr Doyle quickly changed the subject, reminded them to give Locker water by dampening his lips on a regular basis and if he did not come out of his coma soon they would need to consider sending him to a hospital before he became too weak. He estimated that he had only been unconscious for a couple of days at most. He sighed and admitted that he wasn’t overly happy to be staying in London at present, not just because of the murders but because of his cousin…” He looked at them and said, “You had been in the crowd last night weren’t you? You must have recognised my Cousin, Bram Stoker? He was there for a few minutes as well. He had been talking with various others locally as there have been so many unsolved mysteries happening. Bodies vanishing, they’d even lost some of the bodies of murder victims, stolen away from the mortuary including a couple attributed to this serial killer.” With that he left to meet with Inspector Abberline and try again to persuade him to stop the falsifying of the records.

With his departure, they ate the vegetable stew the Rabbi had made and quickly bedded down as best they could. Akira elected to meditate cross-legged by the door all night.

Next morning the Rabbi explained that they could stay for a couple of days with him but would need to make other arrangements after that, then he went off to morning prayers leaving them alone to plot and plan as they tried to make the comatose Locker comfortable. As they ate the humble meal left on the table for them to break their fast they discussed what they thought was going on.

On his return, he said he had been asked to visit a Colonel  Sir William David-Astor who he said they had seen the night before at the murder scene. The good Colonel was claiming that the ghost of his brother who had died under mysterious circumstances was haunting him. “This might be another connection as the brother frequented the Lyceum Theatre where Mr Stoker is the manager and the brother was often the guest of this Prince Drakul. He seemed to have formed a strong friendship with the Prince; some might even say affection for him.”

Again Mace and Akira got into a drawn out argument regarding whether everything was interconnected or not. Mary ignored them and was about to head out into the fog but stepped back as she saw a familiar shape passing by. In the miasma of the smog she could make out the faint moving figure of one of the hounds that had been stalking them through time and dimensions. Then it vanished. They had not lost their psychic stalkers apparently. Mary suggested they accompany the Rabbi on their visit to the Colonel and see if they might learn something more about this Prince Drakul. To her surprise the Rabbi agreed and they set off, carefully avoiding dark shadows in the thick, syrup-like fog.

As they walked, the Rabbi explained that the Colonel had served in the Bengal Lancers before receiving a medical discharge a year ago after he damaged his left leg when his horse fell on him. He had been a good friend to the Jewish community since his return to London.

Inside the grand drawing room, they again met the man with the cane and wild hair from the night before. At Rabbi Holmz’s urging he hesitantly told them his story.

He explained that recently his life had taken a turn for the worse. On Monday the 3rd of September while returning from the opera to his house on the edge of Whitechapel he noticed that his window had been broken and fearing a robbery he rushed to the door. As he entered the hall he heard his brother Philip who had just turned eighteen cry out in pain and rushed up to his room grabbing his revolver as he went. He hesitated for a few seconds and looked at the Rabbi who nodded for him to continue. He explained that he battered the door open and saw a wolf-like creature, standing on its hind legs savaging the mutilated remains of his brother. Horrified, he fired his revolver again and again at this sinister being with apparently no effect and in shock he saw the werewolf (for what else could it be?) wrap the bloody sheets around the remains of his brother and escape through the window with it. After Sir William had stopped being violently sick he rushed out and got a policeman but after examining the room and only finding blood traces in the room and hearing his story which sounded like the ravings of a deranged mind they dismissed it and went back to working on the horrific murder of Annie Chapman. Although he later found the empty bloodied sheets a few streets away he admitted that even now it sounded as though he was mad.

Sir William swore vengeance on the werewolf and next morning had his sword stick’s blade coated in silver as well as getting silver bullets made for his revolver. Each night since then he had hunted through Whitechapel searching for the supernatural creature that had been his brother’s murderer. He again paused then taking a deep breath he continued, “Last night I saw him, Philip, he came to my window” and pointed at his study window, which was one storey up, “I saw him standing outside that window… I, I had thought I had seen him before a few times in the fog as I carried out my nocturnal patrols searching for this hellish creature. I have seen his ghost and it haunts me. At first I thought I saw his mutilated body shuffling through the night, just out of reach but last night, it was Philip as he had been before his death. Pure and unsullied by the wounds inflicted on him. I don’t understand it; he was ripped to shreds by this creature only to appear a month later whole and beckoning me to join him in the night.”

He continued, “The Rabbi seems to think you would be able to help me. I have tried holding séances to try to contact my brother and find out what really happened, why he was attacked by this wolf-like creature, where it came from? But I’m not sure those psychics were real.”

Akira asked if he had anything belonging to his brother, something personal to him and after a couple of seconds hesitation Sir William produced a pocket watch that Philip had carried with him every day since he had gone off to school until the day he died.

Akira held it in his hand and allowed himself to feel the vibrations from Philip’s life. Unlike his brother, Philip had no interest in the Army or anything else for that matter, in no one other than himself. Then the Prince arrived and Philip was fascinated by him, finding ways to graduate into his orbit. To Akira’s dismay everything about this particular Prince was different to the person they had met in 1666, his hair was streaked white, his face was less noble and it lacked a beard. Was this Drakul the same person despite his altered appearance?

There was however, a sexual magnetism about him that had attracted Philip, even if the feeling did not appear to be reciprocated at least until one night… Whatever happened, the rest of his life was drowned out in a blood-red cacophony of psychic noise. He could not see the assault or what happened between Philip and the Prince.

Over their comms, Akira explained, “The bad news is that I think Philip may have been a Vampire’s familiar. Certainly he had a thing for this Drakul.” He explained to Mace and Mary what Prince Drakul looked like now and they wondered why would both people elect to use the same name and title, over 200 years apart?

Unaware of their conversation, Sir William explained that he had most frequently seen his brother’s ghost when he had been in China Town  near the opium dens” and glanced at Akira’s attire, “though I don’t know why, as my brother was not a partaker of that filthy stuff.  He appears in the fog calling to me to join him. He could not have survived, he was almost torn into pieces and it has to be his ghost haunting me. Is there anything you can do for me Rabbi, an exorcism perhaps? Quietly he continued as the Rabbi tried to explain that he didn’t believe that in this situation it would be of any help, “I have to say, the assault on my brother did resemble closely some of the more savage assaults on the street walkers by this Whitechapel murderer,” exclaimed Sir William.

Akira immediately suggested they head to the opium dens and he could pretend to want to ‘score’ some opium they could keep an eye out for his brother who he was sure survived because he was now a vampire or a vampire’s familiar. When questioned about how he might pay for the opium he pointed out he could transform something so it looked like he had wealth though of course as soon as he stopped touching the transformed substance would revert to its original material. It wasn’t as though he actually intended to buy any opium.

Again Mace suggested she could instead act like a prostitute and see if that attracted some ‘unwanted attention’. While they quietly argued amongst themselves Sir William pointed out that prior to his death, Philip had regularly frequented the Lyceum Theatre where Bram Stoker was the manager and suggested that perhaps the Prince’s presence in his life may have been partially responsible for his brothers’ attack.

That decided it; they thanked Sir William for his time and headed out leaving the Rabbi to council Sir William. It was time to visit the theatre.

Again Mace and Akira discussed how best to gain entry with Akira stating they should present themselves as jobbing actors and Mace stating she would have better luck by claiming to be a vaudeville dancer or prostitute. Mary just wanted the opportunity to talk with Bram Stoker who as manager she hoped would be present during the day and shook his head in annoyance at their continued arguing.

Despite it being midday the fog was thick and seemed to block out all the benefits of the sun, shivering they wandered towards the theatre trying to figure out where to go from there then, in front of them as though he had appeared by magic, stood a young well-dressed man. There was something about his clean shaven face that immediately reminded them of Sir William. Could this be his brother? If so, how had he manage to heal if he had been as injured as his brother had claimed? He stepped back into the fog and beckoned towards them.

Before they could think on it further, six other figures surrounded them. Going by their mismatched clothing, they appeared to be retired soldiers but that didn’t explain the glowing red eyes or their large canine teeth. The original figure, the one they instinctively assumed was Philip David-Astor was standing back and smirking, his canines prominent against his lower lip as the six figures moved towards them.

Mary immediately transformed into her Banshee form and unleashed an aura of fear around her. The screech rippled round her tearing at their will. The three of the figures closest to her stumbled back dazed and confused by the unexpected attack.  Seems ‘lunch’ was rarely this powerful.

Then there was a sound like a bat hitting something soft and the rest of the ex-soldiers suddenly stopped advancing as Philip unexpectedly fell backwards with a large hole in his shoulder spurting crimson blood. The wound was large and the bullet had to have been fired from up high. There had been no sound so the shooter had to have been some distance away and in this fog that denoted a really good marksman. Although it had missed his heart it had caused considerable damage. Was this sniper or their side or was he firing randomly and the victim could just as easily have been one of them? It was impossible to say. The wounded figure began to crawl away even as the other figures rushed in.

One of the vampires immediately lunged at Mace who dodged the attack and as her attacker was already stunned, she was able to use its mass against it so it attempt to rab her failed to connect. Akira, seeing what was happening elected to not wait and immediately fired off a mystical blast at the vampire closing in on him. It missed but the blast caused it to stumble back.

He spun and unleashed another blast at Mace’s attacker, which again missed but caused him to also stagger back into the fog as he unleashed a third shot at the creature advancing on Banshee. In the chaos of the attack, that missed also but he had forced them to stop their rush giving them a few seconds of breathing space. Seconds later Banshee dodged her attacker even as Akira now targeted the other three vampires. He missed the first target but hit the creature just behind striking it in the head. He unleashed another blast at the remaining attacker as he focused on the remaining unhit soldier. hitting him cleanly in the chest and staggering him back.

One of the vampires grabbed at Akira’s arm and found himself being thrown to the ground in front of another vampire advancing on Mace. It didn’t actually injure the creature but it did give Mace the opportunity to slide in a sheath of wooden bolts and start firing at their attackers even as the wounded Philip disappeared into the mist. The first bolt hit her attacker directly in the heart and he dropped, apparently unmoving. A second bolt was equally successful and hit its target dusting it this time. Seems they didn’t all react the same way to a bolt through the heart.

The third bolt carved through its target’s arm then ricocheted off a wall and sliced open its throat. It might not be dead yet but it was definitely incapacitated.

“That’s what I call taking out the trash…” She dropped low knowing the effort she was about to expand was going to have a price to pay as she again fired bolts at the remaining attackers – the first should have been an impossible shot but she deliberately threw herself at another of her attackers while unloading the bolt. It flew true and pierced him in the heart then, while falling she unleashed her next bolt at the vampire that had been trying to get behind her.

Her bolt flew true. Still dazed from Banshees attack earlier, it hit him where his row of medals hung, over his heart and he collapsed dead and immediately began to shrivel and turn into dust.

The last bolt was a Hail Mary shot and hit her ‘target’ in the centre of his chest, incapacitating him. They looked around at the dusted or shrivelled bodies and realised that the figure they had assumed was Philip had used the attack to make good his escape.

Behind them out of the mist stepped a man with neck length sandy-coloured hair, a fancy waistcoat and carrying a sabre. He proceeded to behead the remaining, undusted corpses with a single slash of his sword each time. The sunburnt face was familiar; it was the American warehouseman from Mitre Square who had been guarding the warehouses belonging to ‘Kearley & Tonge’.

He stepped forward while retailing a safe distance between them and said, “Hello I am Quincey.” Then nodding, stepped back and vanished as the mist turned into a downpour.

These hadn’t been ancient vampires and since discretion was the better part of valour, they proceeded slowly towards the Theatre leaving someone else to deal with the mess in the fog. Hopefully those that hadn’t yet dusted would do so after losing their heads.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the Lyceum Theatre and headed round to the side door where Akira proceeded to claim to be a jobbing actor and that he had been promised an audition.

He was so insistent that he had an interview that the manager Bram Stoker was called. Stoker politely tried to explain that they were fully staffed for the current performance and they had no work available, not even for understudies and ignored his “do you not know who I am? I have an international reputation; I have trod the boards on Broadway.” Mace then chimed in claiming that she was a both a burlesque and vaudeville dancer. Stoker as politely as he could, suggested she needed to try one of the music halls rather than the Lyceum. As Akira began a recitation from the ‘Scottish play’ a very large figure appeared behind Stoker and gently squeezed himself out into the alley while politely asking Mr Stoker in a thick Scottish accent if he wanted him “to deal with the situation?”

Mary just watched the performance, which achieved nothing other than making sure Bram Stoker would be unlikely to forget their faces. Then the man mountain again asked, “Would’ya like me to dispose of them, sir?” as Mr Stoker stepped back inside the theatre.

He was about to close the door as Mace claimed she had worked at the Moulin Rouge and was able to demonstrate the ‘Can-Can’. A now exasperated Mr Stoker poked his head round the man mountain and exclaimed, “That is not the type of performance we do at the Lyceum Theatre madam, again can I suggest you both try your luck at the music halls?” As he went to slam the door shut leaving them looking at the gorilla of a man standing in front of them Mary spoke up, “Before you allow your man to throw these two into the gutter sir, did we not see you at the latest murder site? “ That caught him off guard and a stuttering Stoker admitted that he had passed by there the night before. Mary continued, “You seem to have been searching for something.” “No, I just happened to be passing on my way home.” Mace and Akira meanwhile kept up the spiel, now claiming he was Charlie Chaplin and that his patron was a noble from Transylvania. In an elevated voice, Mr Stoker shouted, “I have had enough!  You have no audition here…” Akira also raised his voice, “If I tell Prince Drakul that I have been treated in this way I think there will be all hell to play.” Suddenly Bram Stoker raised his cane and slashed it towards his face stopping it mere inches from his nose. Instinctively Akira dodged anyway and muttered, “Well, I’m not one to stay where I’m not welcome…” and flounced back into the mist.

He turned to Mace, “If you are one of the Prince’s floozies please be aware…” he tried to find the words only to be struck dumb in anger at the use of Prince Drakul’s name. Mace tried to entice him but he turned with a look of disgust and stepping back inside, closed the door leaving the massive figure of a man standing guard. Through the door they could hear Stoker talking to the doorman, “It’s another of Drakul’s trollope’s, somebody contact Van Helsing…”

Several minutes later, as they walked back into the rain they were confronted by a white haired and bearded man with deep sunken eyes in a dark suit and leaning on a cane. Beside him was a woman in a man’s hat, white blouse and high split skirt. Unexpectedly she had a brass artificial leg from the knee down. Standing behind her in male clothes was a dark haired woman with a holster holding a selection of tools. The last person was familiar; it was the American Quincey. The old man nodded and the American began to distort, his clothes ripped as he began to transform into a massive werewolf before their eyes…

To be continued