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CAPTURING THE DEVIL
MURDER CASTLE
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
19 FEBRUARY 1889
I would not go quietly into the darkness.
Pain shifted from my tormentor into my ally. I used it to fuel my rage. Each drop of my blood was my sister-in-arms. I licked it from my lips, the throbbing of my pulse pumping it out in torrents. What a sight I must be, drinking the very blood he spilled to terrify me.
I thought again of Miss Eddowes. Miss Stride. Miss Smith. Miss Chapman. Miss Kelly. Miss Nichols. Miss Tabram. Minnie. Julie Smythe and her daughter, Pearl. The names of countless others he’d maimed becoming a silent refrain urging me on. I was not alone in this room with this monster. I was surrounded by his victims.
I’d been wrong before—they did not wish to attack me. They wished to join me as I delivered their justice. I didn’t know what happened after death, if anything, but I believed they’d be waiting to greet him as he stepped from this world into theirs.
It was time to send him where he belonged.
I lifted my head, teeth bared, and an almost inhuman snarl ripped itself from my throat. I don’t know where it came from, but the devil hadn’t been expecting it. He took a startled step back and it was enough. More than enough. If he wished to taste my darkness, I hoped he recalled poison could also be sweet.
I dropped my knife and grabbed my cane with both hands, swinging it blade first in his direction as hard and fast as I could manage. I heard the satisfying sound of it hitting its mark. Fabric ripped and I felt the edge catch in his flesh as I followed through.
A warm mist hit my face. His blood, I realized.
He screamed and scrambled back, holding one hand against his side. Blood continued flowing warmly down my face; distantly I knew I ought to worry. Eventually I’d become weak. But at present, I’d never felt more alive.
“A mind is the best weapon.” I smiled with bloodstained teeth. “And Thomas Cresswell wields it well. He made this for me, you know.”
I slashed my cane in an arc toward his throat, missing by inches. I screamed in frustration, the sound shrill enough to tear my throat. He threw himself backward, toppling the stool. The smell of gasoline filled the air. I didn’t need to glance down to see he’d spilled the can. Liquid spread long fingers, pointing to the demon I needed to destroy.
I scented his blood in t
he air, my focus falling on the crimson slash that smiled from my first strike. His body trembled at my approach. His fear was intoxicating.
Perhaps his assessment had been correct—perhaps he and I were alike. The thrill of his retreat vibrated in time with my pulse. I’d let the demon out of me and there was no locking it away again. Except maybe I’d never been born with the devil in me as he suggested. Maybe my monster was more vampiric in nature. I did not crave death; I craved blood. His blood.
“This is for Miss Nichols.” I jabbed him in the leg with my blade, unable to control my bloodlust. I was a shark in the water, circling my prey as I scented its life-force leaking out. I struck again as he turned his own knife on me. I felt blood splatter onto my nightgown and wanted more. “And Miss Chapman.”
I flung my arms back, intent on ending him at once. His hand struck out, as quick as a cobra, and wrested my cane from me. In a matter of seconds, he’d disarmed me and had his hands around my throat. It had happened too fast to avoid. I struggled against him, digging my fingers into his eye sockets. I managed to knock his mask off and stared into those electric-blue eyes that would haunt me, should I survive.
“Intoxicating, isn’t it?” he whispered against my jaw. “The power. The control.” I wheezed as the pressure on my throat grew impossibly tighter. It wouldn’t be long before the blood vessels in my eyes burst. “Have you known pleasures of the flesh, Miss Wadsworth?”
He practically purred. Black spots crackled around the edges of my vision. I clawed at his hands, nails breaking. Suddenly, Nathaniel fluttered in and out of my thoughts. He screamed in warning. I lost all sense of my surroundings, focusing solely on my dead brother. His lips moved but I couldn’t hear him. Strange I would think of him before death. Though maybe he was coming to fetch me.
“This is better than even that.”
I blinked the hallucination away, focusing on the man before me. His eyes were wild now, knowing the end was near. Nathaniel flashed into my mind again. Insistent. This time it was a memory of our childhood. I watched the two of us playing on the grounds of Thornbriar.
I recalled the day vividly—he’d been teaching me methods of fighting off unwanted pursuers. The White City Devil let up on his stranglehold long enough to pull me back to the present. Apparently my death wouldn’t be delivered swiftly after all. He wanted to play cat and mouse.
“Once I’m through with you, I’ll see to your intended. I’d like nothing more than to wipe him from existence. If he’s not already dead. He didn’t look—”
With my last burst of energy, I brought my knee up into his groin as hard as I could manage. It was the move my brother had taught me all those years ago. He’d also told me to not hesitate to run away. I’d only have a few moments. I wrenched myself free as the devil howled in pain. I limped for the door, but my head spun so badly I couldn’t manage a straight path. As I neared the threshold, Holmes ripped me back by my hair, yanking a chunk out.
My throat was too raw to scream anymore. Not fully recovered, but spitting mad, he pinned me to the ground with his body. His hands were vises around my neck again. This time his eyes were black. His pupils seemed to have swallowed the blue entirely. His rage was something I’d never encountered in the flesh before. In this moment, he was no longer human.
Staring into those burning eyes, I knew my death was imminent. I scrambled to find something. A weapon. A prayer of a chance at leaving this place with my life. My fingers clawed through wet dirt. I bucked around, knowing I was losing more oxygen, but I had only one chance left. As the darkness swept in again, my hand closed over the handle of the gas can. With the strength of my will and that of the women who’d been slain before me, I smashed it into his skull.
He tumbled off me, knocking into a switch. Hissing sounded from above. He’d put the gas on. He was still stumbling around, gripping his head, as blood blinded him. This was my chance. I limped toward the door, hoping he was sufficiently distracted so I could escape. I was almost to the corridor of skeletons when I heard a whoosh. A blast of heat swept over me. I half turned, unable to see what new horror was heading my way.
