Something Wild Read online

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  Cobblestone Press

  www.cobblestone-press.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Sable Grey

  First published in 2007

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the real Jack the Ripper Murders

  Author's Bio

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Something Wild

  Copyright© 2007 Sable Grey

  ISBN: 978-1-60088-174-9

  Cover Artist: Louisa Gallie

  Editor: Melissa Darnell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Cobblestone Press, LLC

  www.cobblestone-press.com

  Dedication

  To Kerri, a pillar of beauty and strength even when the world is turned upside down, a survivor of all that comes, and who, in my honest opinion, could have kicked Jack the Ripper's ass.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Prologue

  Ursula watched the blind woman lead a younger woman between two buildings. Rather than waiting, she followed and peered down the alley curiously. She recognized the younger female as Kate Kelly, a short woman at five feet tall with dark auburn hair.

  The old, blind woman removed a small pouch from her pocket, knelt in the mud and emptied the contents in front of her. Ursula watched her reach forward to run her long, bony fingers over each of the small stones before holding one up.

  "It is the Rune of Disruption, child ... something wild and unnatural. It comes for us all."

  A chill traveled down Ursula's spine as she backed away from the alleyway. She wasn't certain she believed in such things, but still she felt uneasiness settle in her nerves. Her mind repeated the woman's words as she hurried down the street back the way she'd come. Something wild.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  Baden Sikes slammed his palm down on the table, having heard enough. “Idiocy! I'll not listen to this rubbish any longer.” He stood and snatched up his hat and coat as a hush settled over the room of officials and committee members. “You waste time with this foolishness. A woman is not responsible for the horrors that have taken place here, and I refuse to hear any more of it.” He headed for the door, ignoring those who called for him to remain.

  As he stepped from the building, he set his hat atop his head, pulled on and adjusted his coat against the autumn wind, and wrinkled his nose. He'd been in the East End for nearly a week, and still he could not grow accustomed to the stench created by the sewage and rubbish that plagued the streets.

  He'd come here upon his friend's request to help in capturing the predator of Whitechapel, but thus far, he'd only heard thin guesses to the identity of the murderer. They had listed nearly every man in Whitechapel as a suspect, and now they were inclined to start listing women as well.

  Lifting his gaze to those bustling about the filthy street, Baden frowned. How very different the days were from the nights. When the sun disappeared, so did the Londoners of Whitechapel. If men were active after dark, they were in pairs or more. Women pretty much kept safely indoors. Whitechapel was drowning in fear.

  "Detective Sikes.” He turned at the sound of his name.

  "You'll not try to convince me that it is a woman who has turned this city upside down.” Baden began walking, and James Martin fell into step beside him.

  "I will not. I know of no woman evil enough to commit the crimes that have been committed.” James huffed out his breath, causing the white of his moustache to ripple.

  Baden nodded in agreement, thankful to have another thinking rationally. “Who do you think it is?"

  "I'm not in a position to draw conclusions or theorize,” James answered, and Baden grunted. If anyone was to draw conclusions, it should be James Martin. Though not an actual police official, most who were had consulted with him at one time or another.

  "What of you, Detective Sikes? Who do you think he is?"

  "Honestly, I do not know.” Baden shook his head. “It makes no sense. Someone is responsible. One can't just appear from and disappear back into the night without anyone ever seeing him."

  "This one does,” James countered.

  "We are missing something, something important. But what?” Baden was about to continue when something caught his eyes. Not something. Someone.

  James gave a soft chuckle. “What do you see?"

  "A thief.” Baden's long legs carried him quickly across the street, his gaze locked on the young woman who quietly slipped back against the wall. She glanced up as Baden neared.

  For a moment, she just stared at him, but when his pace did not slow, her eyes widened with realization. She turned and started to run, but Baden caught her arm, bringing her to a halt.

  "I do believe that gentleman will want his watch back."

  "Let me go!” she said through gritted teeth, attempting to jerk her arm free of his grasp.

  "So you may continue to lift others’ wealth as you will? No, I believe I will take you to Robert Anderson ... ah, I see you recognize the name. Most of your sort does.” Baden held her firmly with one hand and used the other to delve into her pockets to retrieve the gentleman's pocket watch and a tiepin.

  James stepped to Baden's side. “What is your name, girl?"

  "Cora.” She gave up her struggles and lowered her gaze to the ground.

  Baden held open his hand for James to view what she had stolen.

  "You have the eye of a hawk, Baden. Impress me now.” James’ moustache twitched as he smiled. “What can you tell of the things she has stolen?"

  "She isn't a thief by nature.” Baden only glanced at the items before lifting his gaze to Cora.

  "You do not know me!” she snapped.

  "I see that you can be no more than nineteen and that your clothes are worn and shabby.” Baden's gaze swept over the woman's petite figure. “You look to be hungry, and you are trembling beneath my hand."

  James grunted a chuckle as Baden continued, “I deduce from these few facts that you are either new to thievery or very ignorant. Perhaps a combination of both."

  Baden nearly smiled when her eyes flashed angrily. No, she was not ignorant. If she were, she would have surely spoken rather than just glare at him.

  "A thief who lifted that watch as well as you is one who is afraid of being caught. If that were not true, you would have already stolen enough to buy yourself an outfit that would allow you to blend into a crowd. Given that the tie pin is actually brass and not gold and the watch, though gold, is in poor condition, you don't know very much about what items to steal.” He raised an eyebrow. “Please interject when I have spoken falsely of you."

  She said nothing, a soft blush coloring her pale cheeks.

  "As I thought.” He turned to James. “Shall you take her to Scotland Yard or shall I?"
>
  "Hardly enough there to make it worth my effort.” James nodded to the items that Baden still displayed in his palm.

  "If I see you on the streets again, I shall arrest you myself,” he warned, finally releasing her arm. She stared at him with surprise then nodded frantically that she would remember. Baden did not turn his back on her until she was out of sight, then with a flourish of his hand, checked to make certain she hadn't lifted anything from his person while they had been standing there. She had not.

  "As you say, she looked hungry,” James murmured

  "I cannot save the whole of London, James. You rest too much capability upon my shoulders.” Baden frowned down at her stolen items. “And I have larger worries than a faint street urchin."

  "Indeed,” James agreed. “While you set about your errands, I shall return to the council and ease their worries that you are not truly finished with the case.” James touched his hat briefly, and Baden returned the gesture then watched James amble back to the building from which they'd come.

  His gaze slid forward and his pace quickened as he walked through the crowd. It took him only a few moments to spot the young woman ahead of him. He caught up with her, taking pace beside her.

  "Come with me and I shall feed you so that you might be inclined not to lift anything more from those that have worked for their wealth.” Baden didn't look down at her but felt her start beside him.

  "I work!"

  Baden slanted a glance at her. “I can't imagine at what in those clothes."

  "Most don't care of the costume when they wish their laundry cleaned.” But her voice lost some of its bite.

  "You are fortunate that I have just left the presence of idiots and am feeling charitable towards anyone female. I believe my maid might have something small enough to fit you."

  "I need no charity.” Her voice hinted with pride.

  "You would rather risk being thrown in prison for thievery than to accept the kindness of another?” He halted suddenly and looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “You did not strike me as truly stupid.” She opened her mouth then clamped it shut again, her gaze dropping to her feet.

  "Come.” He veered toward the house he had purchased when he'd first arrived. It was smaller than his home across London, but served him well as a place to work from. “A full stomach, a bath, and a set of used clothes are not so much charity that it should injure any pride you might possess.” He moved through the iron gate and quickly up the steps, then turned the handle of the door and stepped aside so she could enter.

  He was surprised when she hesitated.

  "Forgive me, sir, but I do not know you and..."

  "Neither did you know the man you took this watch from, but still you felt familiar enough to place your hands upon his person,” Baden stated pointedly. “Do not fear. You are far too frail and filthy for my taste."

  "Men do not care of the condition of the women they mean to prey upon.” She lifted her chin slightly and met his gaze. “As you say, I'm not truly stupid."

  Baden studied her for several seconds then smiled slowly. “I suppose you are not. Would you feel more comfortable entering on my maid's request than mine?"

  "I might."

  Baden stepped through the door and called out, “Ursula!” Moments later, her young, round face appeared, smiling brightly.

  "You are home early this day, sir.” Her gaze dropped to Cora still standing on the step. “And we have a guest?"

  "This is Cora. She needs a bath, some decent clothes, and she shall take the evening meal with us. If you would be so kind, she wishes you to invite her in.” Baden smiled when Ursula's light gaze lifted to him with confusion, and he leaned toward her. “She thinks I mean to prey upon her despite her condition."

  Ursula's laughter was a short burst that she quickly stifled.

  "Miss, might you come in with me? The detective wouldn't dare assault you in my presence, for he knows I would claw out his eyes if he were to try.” Ursula held out her hand, welcoming their visitor into Baden's home. One glance at Cora, and Baden could see that his and Ursula's exchange irritated her. Still, she stepped forward and followed his maid through the foyer.

  He turned and closed the door before heading for his study, while Ursula hurried Cora to the stairs. Something would have to be done about the killer in Whitechapel. It was getting out of control, and Baden did not like the choices that were left for him. He'd spent most of his years learning how to eliminate the possibility of having to turn to drastic measures to accomplish something. Now this murderous bastard had turned him on his axle so that he saw no other way than the one he didn't want to go.

  Pouring himself a glass of bourbon, he watched the liquid swirl into the goblet as he remembered the last time he'd allowed himself to give in to the beast. His identity had not been discovered, but he'd been close to being the victim of a fearful mob. He'd been very careful since.

  He lifted the rim of the goblet to his lips and sipped, welcoming the heat of the alcohol against his tongue. Only two knew his capabilities; the only two he completely trusted—Ursula and James Martin. They kept his secret loyally, rarely even made mention of the beast except in private jest. Now he knew they both looked to him to take care of this Ripper business in a way that only he could. They would not speak the word, he knew. Wolf. It would be asking too much. But he could see the hopefulness in their eyes. He took a longer drink and walked to the window to look out at those on the street. That which they hoped him to do, could be the end of him if he dared venture that path again.

  "She is bathing, sir.” Ursula's voice swept from the door long after he sensed her presence.

  "Good. You shall see that a meal is prepared?"

  "Should I slaughter a farm animal for the occasion, sir?"

  Baden smiled without looking back at her. “I do not think that shall be necessary today, Ursula."

  "Are you certain, sir?"

  "You realize you shall burn in the fires of Hell for your jests at my expense.” Baden heard her soft chuckle and did not need to look back at her to know that dimples creased in the center of each of her cheeks with her grin.

  "I'm most certain I shall be in good company if I do, sir."

  He chuckled and finally turned. “As shall I."

  Ursula's smile slightened when her gaze dropped to the goblet he held, and concern filled her gaze. “Are you well today?"

  "My mind is burdened by much,” he admitted then waved a hand. “Those that I went to listen to today spoke that the Ripper might be a woman."

  "It is a possibility.” She crossed her arms and stepped farther into the room, taking his confidence rightly as an invitation to join him. Baden often turned to Ursula when he needed to speak his mind. She rarely strayed from reason and did not guard her thoughts with him. For that, he was grateful.

  "Is it? What evil can be found in a woman that...?"

  "The same that can be found in a man capable of it, I imagine, sir.” Ursula interrupted then tilted her head. “I know a woman who once was so crazed that she thought the devil meant to blind her with his wickedness. Before everyone, she spat at a spot in the floor, as if something stood there, and then gouged her own eyes out with a poker from the hearth."

  "Good Lord."

  "Madness makes a person do things that are not what we might think them capable, regardless of their sex,” Ursula concluded.

  "Did the woman die from the shock her body must have experienced?” Baden inquired.

  "I buy our vegetables from her in the market.” Ursula shrugged. “Without her eyes, she can no longer see the devil that was not there."

  "But her assault was upon herself. It is typical that a woman would turn what ailed her inward. The Ripper is mauling other women. It is not likely, for it is not a woman's crime.” Baden sat in one of the chairs, lifting a hand to stroke at his brow.

  Ursula instantly stepped forward and touched his arm, bringing his gaze back to her face. “You sleep less and less, sir. I hear you rambli
ng about in the night."

  "It shall pass."

  "And you do not eat as you should. I worry of your health.” Her voice softened. “If you will forgive the indelicate nature of the subject, sir, you neglect other appetites as well. How long has it been since you entertained a woman's affection?"

  "It is indelicate and not of your business.” Baden didn't look at her. “I shall thank you not to mention it again."

  "More than seven months, sir,” Ursula continued, “and not from lack of opportunity. Many women fancy you, and some are not as innocent of body or mind as others."

  "I'm well aware of the innocence in those that have interest in me or that I hold company with. I am burdened, not ignorant.” Baden didn't mean to snap, but Ursula smiled softly.

  "I only wish you to take care of yourself, sir."

  Baden felt a slight stab of guilt and reached for her hand. “I know, and I appreciate your concern. I do not deserve it.” He lifted her knuckles to his lips. “Forgive me my foul temper of late.” He released her hand, and she lingered a moment longer before turning and stepping back from the room. She closed the door gently.

  He rolled his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He was weary. Ursula was right. He'd not slept a full night in weeks—not since he'd first seen one of the murder victims. How could he?

  The woman's body had been brutalized, emptied, and left with no more regard than the contents of a chamber pot. Strongly built with a thick nose, Baden remembered. His memory recalled Dorset Street, a dirty, narrow street. His boots had echoed against the cobblestone when he approached the body with James Martin.

  Something clattered, and Baden jerked awake. He straightened in the chair and tilted his head, listening. The scent of the bourbon was what found him, and he looked down to find the goblet had slipped from his fingers.

  Frowning, he rose and cleaned up the spill, setting the goblet on the table. Perhaps he should retire until it was time to take his meal. It would do no harm, and he was truly weary.