The Book of Daniel (30 page)

“Her drunkenness was her downfall. Humorous, isn’t it, that a witch’s demise be due to the potions brewed by ordinary men, eh? Eye of newt and toe of frog are no match for juice of grape! Old Jack got nice and close, and then sprang like a cobra, quickly with the hand over the mouth and swiftly with sweet Devorah into her side. Gently, my love! Not enough to kill; but enough to focus the mind and ensure cooperation. As she weakly struggled like a fish on the dockside, I danced with my mistress to a more secluded spot.

“She was a lively one, I tell you! Eager to talk, eager to save her wretched neck. Lots of information for Jack to remember. But she was a tricky one, too, sir. Several times she would be describing some detail of her devilish craft to me, when all of a sudden she would start speaking in that accursed language I remembered from the hospital. Each time, a little prompting from Devorah put her back on her best behaviour, but after an hour or so of conversation, wicked Polly was not quite so helpful or attentive anymore. Too many holes! But she had been very informative, so I did her the service of a quick finish, and left her carcass to the rats.

“The first of order of business when I got home was to clean myself and Devorah off. She soon regained her glow, and, if anything, looked healthier than ever, which I ascribe to the invigorating liquids she had imbibed. Inspired, I even regained enough appetite for a bowl of broth: invigorating liquids for Jack, too! For the rest of the night, we sat together in my rooms, Devorah and I, me scribbling down all that I could remember of the witch’s confessions, and her sitting by the window, radiant in the lamplight.

“Dabbling Polly had been a goldmine of useful information, although the excavation had been hard, dirty work. I had learnt the names and whereabouts of others in her coven, and—just as usefully—more tips on how to deal with such creatures safely, things that my books did not cover. I spent the week in seclusion, praying for protection from the dark ones, forgiveness for the death I had wrought, but most of all, for the strength to continue my crusade. With each stroke of my whetstone against Devorah’s shanks, so too sharpened my resolve to remove the sickness of these women from Whitechapel’s diseased body!

“The week passed, and Jack the Surgeon once again sallied forth. I had decided next to visit a member of the coven so brazen that even her name proclaimed her nefarious associations; but Jack soon taught this Dark Annie contriteness. As before, I adopted a humble attitude for my approach, but she was a wary one, and alas, my initial slice did not quite strike true! Quite the merry chase she led me through the alleyways, but by now I knew them well, and the trail of red stuff from her gaping neck was easy to follow. I knew she was mortally wounded—why else would she not cry out for help unless she was not able to?—but I could not risk that she make it back to her Sisters and then be nursed back to health by their black arts. I eventually caught up with her, just as she staggered into the garden of a poorhouse. If I had rounded the corner a mere moment later, she might still have escaped me though, for as I entered from the alleyway, I saw her propped against the fence, and then, in the blink of an eye, she disappeared! Cautiously, I approached the spot where she had stood, and as I drew close, her form faded into view. A step back, and she vanished again! Witchcraft!

“No more dancing around for Jack. Bold steps forwards and get to work! Perhaps Dark Annie should better have been called Dim Annie, for her ill-judged spell worked against her, and the cloak of invisibility provided perfect privacy for my endeavours. As the sun rose, a man even looked over the garden out of a window, but saw nothing, not even my cheery red wave! Ha ha! There was plenty of time to ensure that Annie could never be brought back from death by her foul Sisters, and by the time her spell had worn off and the cries of discovery could be dimly discerned, my coat was already on my coat rack and my hands were soapy.”

The enthusiasm disappeared from Jack’s voice. “But soap was not enough. Although my hands were clean, my soul was still stained crimson. Jack and Adonai, they wrestled. How could death, murder, even of such abominations, be right in the eyes of the Most High? Yes, the Torah said clearly that the people of God must cleanse the practitioners of witchcraft from their midst, but remember also the tablets: ‘Thou shalt not commit murder’, they say. Which was right? I was not without heart—unlike some of my later quarries!—and the doubts, they gnawed at my mind like the rats that fed on Whitechapel. Reading and praying, little help. Had Jack been abandoned? Was I already being punished for my sins? But surely they were sins I had been
told
to commit, in His name! Or had I in fact been a victim of the sinuous deceit of the Enemy? Was the voice of Adonai I had heard not Him at all, but the Other?

“I cannot remember how long I hid in my rooms, searching for clarity amongst the shadows, but then suddenly one night there was an answer, albeit it in a most unwelcome form! Scratch, scratch, coming from the corridor, scratch, scratch. Most irksome; but as soon as I stepped out to investigate, a flash of viridian light exploded in my face, and I was knocked back into my parlour. Before I could even shake my head to clear it, some kind of wailing harpy descended upon me, plucking at my poor, scalded eyes with her talons! An assassin! But Little Miss had sorely misjudged Jack’s reserves of strength, and he soon had her under control. The first thing to do when you catch a witch, my friend, is to always make sure she cannot speak, at least not unchecked. If her dark master cannot hear her, he cannot help her! Alas, Devorah was resting, out of reach, and so the only way to block this one’s foul mouth was with my forearm; and in her wide-eyed desperation, she was having a good old chew on it. My blood was all over her chops, but oh-ho, I soon evened things up again. A light tap on the head to teach her respect, and then—answers, please!

“It turned out that Jack had not been the only one pondering things over since his last escapade. The bitches of the Rotting Log had also been shaken by recent events, and so had used their unclean divinations to track down their nemesis. That was the word my prisoner used! Nemesis! Ha ha, I liked that! Once their impish spies had discerned my identity, it was trivial enough for them to dispatch the lively lady who was currently my guest to seek me out. My colleagues at the hospital had apparently been somewhat anxious about my health, and therefore quite forthcoming when this ‘concerned cousin’ suddenly appeared, wishing to know the whereabouts of my lodgings. I could well imagine my dear ‘cousin’s’ wolfish grin as she left the hospital, all aglow at how easy it would be to pluck out my weakened soul and offer it to her master. Little did she know how robust, in fact, Jack still was!

“So eager she was to claim her prize that she went straight to Jack’s house without first reporting back to her coven for assistance. Tut tut! But with the Lord’s strength flowing through my veins—and trickling out of them, down her chin!—there was no chance of victory for her. The doubts I had about my work vanished in an instant. I wrung the life from her, singing with joy, and then proceeded to clear up the mess. Quickly, Jack! Ye don’t know how long it will be afore she is missed, and where one has come, surely others will follow! But never let haste overrule thoroughness, my friend; you must always make sure those in league with the Fallen One are truly dead. Devorah and I promptly chopped our nameless visitor into pieces small enough for the large fire in my kitchen to consume, although I must confess to a little nibbling of my own, too. Do not be disgusted, sir! The principle is no different than vaccination. One can gain a measure of protection from any evil, natural or spiritual, by ingesting of its essence!”

With Jack’s claims of cannibalism, I once again began to fear a little for my own safety. Not because I feared being eaten—not by Jack, at least—but because it reminded me that I was in fact slung across the shoulders of an apparent lunatic, half savage, half gentleman; hardly the most reassuring of rescuers. Unless, of course, all that he was saying was actually true…

He continued. “My unwelcome visitor was proof enough that even without the wormy words of the witch’s curse eating away at my essence, time was short. By this point, I was feeling distinctly unwell, but whether that was because of the hex or because my toothsome assassin disagreed with my digestion, I could not tell you. Suffice to say that when I approached my next paramour a few days later, I had not properly recuperated, and it was an ill-judged effort. My loathsome quarry snuck out of her lair late at night, at the hour my fever burned its brightest, brighter than the moon, brighter even than Devorah’s smile. I hurried after her as swiftly as I could, not stopping to think if the moment was right, for time was running out for Jack, tick-tock-tick-tock, and there was still so much left to do. I soon caught up with her, but barely had time to get started before things went wrong. Certainly there was no time to do a proper job, to separate the cursed parts of her body wide from each other so they could not be rejoined. Just as I was getting warmed up, I espied a movement out of the corner of my eye, and looked up to see a tiny winged figure darting away from the vicinity, hate flashing in its emerald eyes. A homunculus! Not quite stealthy enough though, your escape, eh, master imp? Come, sweet Devorah, quickly, we must catch this one before he brings reinforcements!

“A mad dash through the streets ensued, as poor Jack coughed and stumbled his way after the familiar. Always just out of grasp, but never too far away to discourage. I should have known it was a trap, but the fever, ah, it dulled the instincts. After a merry chase, the goblin finally alighted on the shoulder of another woman, hastily whispered something in her ear, and then disappeared in a wisp of smoke, blending with the fog. I stepped up quickly towards the woman, and at an even more lively pace when I saw her starting to mumble and twitch her fingers in those arcane patterns I knew so well. Close thing! Just as the air began to crackle around us—and not from no storm, neither—up popped Devorah and glided gracefully across Madame’s throat, spraying her putrid red essence across my face. I could see the life fading from her eyes, but there was a devilish smile on her lips, and I knew that I had not been quick enough. She embraced me close, smearing me with her blood, and it was all I could do to get me knife up to try to cut myself free. I chopped and I hacked at her wicked face, but I was ensnared good and proper. And she wouldn’t be still! Whatever spell she had cast had given her the power to fight long after a decent human would have been at rest. Even when I eventually managed to wrestle myself free from her clutches, her hands continued to twitch and grasp their way towards me. I wanted to flee, aware that at any moment reinforcements could come, but I
had
to finish the job. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live, remember, and although it was not life as you or I know it, still she moved. Such a mockery of the divine spark steeled my resolve! She must be dispatched!

“I was still sawing away at her belly when I became aware of the others. They loomed out of the shadows like the night ships down at the dear old Docks. Too many of them to fight, and all of them with spells on their lips. Ah well, Jack, ye had a good run, I thought to meself! I’m ready for the end, but no, what’s this? ‘You must be the one they are calling The Ripper,’ one of them says. ‘Prudence would suggest that we deal with you here and now before you turn on us, Witch Slayer, but we must admit to being somewhat impressed by the chaos you have wrought on our dear friends in the Rotting Log.’ The way she said ‘dear friends’, I knew they were anything but! ‘Perhaps you may be of use to us. We could make it worth your while, and relieve you of the curse that we can see afflicting you. But here is not the place for bargains to be struck. Come, sisters, let us leave this waste’—she kicked at what was left of my latest conquest—‘and take our fancy gentleman back to more convivial surroundings.’

“She was a well-spoken one, that’s for sure. Lilith was her name, head of the Five Sisters Coven, although there were a lot more than five of them and none of them were sisters, least not by any decent reckoning. I was placed into the care of a fair creature called Mary Jane, who was to be my nurse and my gaoler until I had been brought back to health and until the Sisters had decided exactly how best to use me. Ah, she was cunning, that Lilith, for it was told to me from the start that Mary Jane did not suckle at the Devil’s breast, and not being a witch, therefore, I had no grounds on which to think bloody thoughts towards her. Quite the opposite, as it turned out, for she was a comely maid; it’s a good thing my hands were bound, for the way she spooned that look of hers into my eyes as she spooned food into my mouth, well, that was a witchcraft all of its own. Or maybe the other Sisters had spiced my rations with one of their philtres, who knows. Either way, it wasn’t long before old Jack was besotted with his keeper, despite the company she kept. All my furious thoughts of escape rolled over and purred at her words, and I grew strong again under her ministrations.

“Ah, but I should have known that Adonai would not approve of Jack’s soliciting with the Devil’s brood, nor of the blasphemous thoughts that came as my strength and confidence returned. Perhaps, I reasoned, I could continue to wage war against the dark forces right enough, but leave those witches dear to Mary Jane in peace. Surely that would still be acceptable, better than nothing, hm? But kind Adonai showed Jack the error of his ways!

“One day, about a month after my capture, I fell asleep, the sweet sound of Mary Jane’s singing in my ears as she sewed, the sweet sight of Devorah nearby, shining in the firelight. Jack and his ladies, what a charming domestic scene! But another voice disrupted the melody, and Jack’s brain swam lazily to wakefulness as this one came into focus. Lilith! From the low and urgent tone of her voice, I knew that a pretence of sleep should be maintained, the better to learn what low and urgent business she had in mind. Ah, and then the deception unfolded: it became clear that Mary Jane’s purity was all a lie, merely a ruse designed to keep old Jack well behaved, and her charms—both natural and unnatural—were apparently well known amongst the Five Sisters for keeping menfolk on a short, gilded leash. As each vile word of their conversation plunged into my mind, wounds opened, poisoned with the truth, more lethal than any that Devorah and I had perpetrated when about our work. And there was naught I could do but lie there, and accept the lesson. Your work is not done, Jack, and this woman is not for you; you must obey
My
commandments, not your own. She is to be destroyed!