The Killing Hand (22 page)

Following the instructions of Lucius
’ letter, I made my way to his house the following Tuesday. When I arrived his maid led me to the door of the parlour, where I could hear talking coming from within.

   She opened the door and stepped in. “
Master Godwin is here, Sir.”

   I could hear Lucius from within. “
Eric? Very well, let him in.”

   I walked into the parlour where Lucius, Palmer, Harry, and Francis had already gathered to drink and smoke as they played cards and talked. As far as I could tell, the cards were merely
social; there were no wagers of cash nor human lives at stake here. It was strange to think that I was surrounded by the benefactors of the grandest scheme possible known to the highest ranks and police and linked to the murders of several high profile people across the year, and yet we sat here drinking.

   “
Are you not afraid of holding these meetings anymore, Lucius?” I asked as I made myself comfy.

   Lucius looked
smug, as if he were greater than any man in the world. “The police found no evidence of my foul play, they have no reason to turn up nor to suspect us. If it is the other matter you allude to, we are not playing… what did you call it, Palmer?”

   “
The Killing Hand.”

   “…
yes. We are not playing that infernal card game. We are simply meeting as associates, and doing so here prevents any eavesdroppers.”

   “
Do you know who it was who rumbled you?” Palmer asked.

   Lucius shook his head, but said nothing further.

   Francis shifted in his seat. “If people notice us here, it will raise suspicion.”

   Lucius nodded in agreement. “
It is not impossible that they could still link the murders to this group, but I daresay we have bigger issues at hand.”

   “
Yes,” Palmer growled. “Jack did not kill my target.”

   “
He will not be killing any of our targets,” Francis said. “He is done with us, and that can only mean one thing.”

   Lucius spoke, “
Yes, I believe that to be correct. We will be Jack’s next targets.”

   Palmer leant forward slightly. “
But why? We did nothing wrong. We did exactly as expected!”

  
Francis said, “Do you not see? This was the intention all along. This is what I was trying to tell you, but you were so foolish you would not listen!”

   Palmer huffed and plodded back into his chair. Harry, who had been sat in the corner silently, whimper
ed to himself.

   Lucius said, “
Even though we are in great danger, I do not believe we will be the next targets. Jack still has others that pose him a great threat.”

   I said, “
You mean the police? The investigation is over.”

   “
The official investigation, that is. I believe you know what I refer to, and most likely you too, Francis. James has not kept his business to himself. It is known to those in certain circles that he is leading his own case. This information may filter down to Jack, or it may already be in his hands.”

   Palmer writhed in his seat, sweating profusely. 'It is still possible James could further link the murders and our group.'

   “Yes, I believe that if James continues then that will be the case,” Lucius continued. “I fear that James will not simply let it go. From what I know of the man, despite the case being officially dropped, he will not cease his own investigation. Without resources I hope he poses no threat, but we must be aware that his eye is upon London, any mistakes may bring his gaze upon us. The growth of our personal companies during the recent months is freely available to anyone who may research it.”

  
Harry shook his head slowly. “That is not good...”

  
I said, “This situation is out of control and will not resolve itself. Either we will be found out and arrested, or we will continue on long enough for Jack to turn his claws on us. I wish neither to happen.”

  
“Jack will not turn his claws on us as long as we remain loyal,” Palmer said, but nobody responded to him. He then turned to Lucius and said, “So what are we going to do? If James knows about us and Jack, we are done.”

   Lucius said, “
He will die.”

   Francis and I called out in protest at the same time. Lucius simply raised a hand and waited for us to silence.

   “I have not asked for it, nor do I desire it,” Lucius said. “But, knowing Jack, if someone poses Him a threat then they will die. I believe James may be next.”

   “
No harm must come to James,” Francis said under no uncertain terms. “He is my friend and I will not have him come to harm as a result of these meetings.”

   “
It is not I who is making the decision, Francis. Perhaps I can suggest you chose better friends? An association with an officer of the law never a thing we needed in this circumstance, you may have subconsciously drawn him to this case.”

   “
I will not turn my back on my friends purely because of this group’s bloodlust.”

   Lucius placed his glass down on the table.
His face looked worn, as if he had not seen sunlight in an age. “I have no doubt that Jack will have already taken an interest him in, and I fear that no man at this table will have the power to stop him – not even I, as you all appear to assume. I have neither connection with nor control over Jack. I believe James is already a dead man, and that his time is fast approaching with his recent actions.”

   Francis stood and screamed, “
You heartless fuck, Lucius!”

   I did not have time to scream. I understood that Lucius was entirely right, and whilst we sat arou
nd and talked about it, the countdown had already begun. I ran out of the room.

  
There was an eerie silence in the air as I rushed through the streets at lightning pace towards James' house. The sound of ringing bells rode ominously on the wind. Dark clouds gathered in the sky above. The streets seem to wind forever and it felt like his house was an eternity away. I did not know how much time he had left, it could be day or hours, but as I rushed it felt like minutes.

   When I finally reach
ed his house, I charge at the door and bring my fist against it. "James! James! Answer the door, now!"

   My relentless hammering
went unanswered. I feared for a while that Jack had already struck, that James may lay dead within. I kept hammering, refusing to let this thought be true.

   I caught sight of an upstairs room laminating. There was a muffle from within the house and finally the sound of the door being unlocked, which revealed a hazy looking James. “
Eric, what is the matter?”

   I pushed into his house,
closing the door behind me, hoping that tonight was not the night. “We have to get out of here, now.”

   “
But, what is going on?”

   "No time to explain, you need to get out."

   James cocked his head, but did not argue further. "Let me get my coat."

   H
e rushed back upstairs as I kept a keen watch out of the windows. I could hear him rustling about and in mere moments he returned fully clothed, heading straight for the coat rack.

  
He said, "Will you explain as we go?"

   "
Yes, yes of course, but first we need to get out of here."

   With unwavering loyalty James follow
ed me back onto the street, locking his house behind him, and we immediately began to move. As we marched hurriedly through the darkened cobblestone streets, I realised I had no idea where to go. Where could I take James? Jack would be hunting him and, if he knew that I had saved him, he would most certainly be hunting me as well. I was glad, at least, that I no longer staying at my home, but what about James? I could not simply tell him never to return home. I had nobody to go to, except from seeking refuge at my Sisters. There I would have to come clean and explain, and hope that James would forgive me, but I would deal with that when it came.

   James struggled to keep up with my quick pa
ce. "So are you going to tell me what this is all about then?"

   I flinched. Do I tell him
now? If I informed him, maybe we could have made a plan of action, some way to prevent Jack from striking again. Maybe we could stop this. On the other hand, would James still trust me? Would he remain bound to his duty and turn me in?

   "Eric?"

   "James..." I held for a moment. I did not want to tell him, but there was no way around it. I could not march him through the streets of London without him knowing the truth, that he had been marked for murder. "Spring-heeled Jack is going to kill you."

  
He stopped in the street, gasping. "W..what? But how? How do you know this?"

   "I cannot tell you... Not yet." There
was not enough time to tell him the entire story even if I wanted to. "You just need to know that he is after you... he plans to kill you tonight."

   I try to beckon for him to keep moving, but he remains still on the street, unable to muster a response.
"Y... you have been behind the murders? You have been involved with Lucius?"

   I do not know what to say. Put so bluntly, it all seems so horrific, so unjust. I try to explain my innocence, that I did not mean it to be this way, but James silences me. "
I knew it. I saw it all, but I chose not to believe it. I cannot believe it Eric... why would you do such a thing?”

   It was the way that he said it that got me most. The words themselves were of little importance, but the wavering in his voice, the sheer distress, was enough to crush my nerve. I
had no response. I tried to apologise, but it seemed so feeble next to the weight of the accusation. James gave me a long, cold stare, examining my every movement and reaction.

  
He said, "I am sorry Eric... but you did this to yourself." With that he turned in the street and fled.

   I did not know what to do. James was most likely heading for the station. By leaving me, he had given me chance to escape, but that was the only chance he would give me. My days in London were done.

   I remained frozen to the spot as he vanished down the street and around a corner. Do I chase him? No. I knew James, and I knew no amount of reasoning would bring him to sense now. I had messed up.

   Then, suddenly, there was a crash. The sound of a
window shattering from where James had gone. I ran, my heart sinking deeper and deeper with each step, until I rounded the corner and saw it all. From one of the second stories of a nearby shop, Jack had crashed through, showering James in shards of glass. The entire thing played like some awful scene where I wished to scream, but my throat simply swelled and my legs remained rooted. Jack had hurtled through the air and smashed into the ground near James with tremendous force.

   Straightening up, Jack looked as dangerous as ever. Tal
l, built and strong. His metallic armour under his cloak shining in the reflection of the moon. That sickening grin under his mask still visible.

   "
You..." James stuttered, looking at Him in paralysed horror. "You wretch! I arrest you in the name of…"

 
In effortless motion, Jack's claws tore through the cold night air and through James, sending him to the ground in one swift, but strong, swipe. James hit the floor with a sickening, earthly thud, and a soft rain of blood followed him. The claws had gone straight for his throat. With a loud, howling laugh, Jack sprung into the night sky, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. I stood, frozen by the horror of the situation, listening to his howling burrowing into the depths of my mind as it echoed about me.

   Be
fore me, in the now lonely street, the still form of James lay. When the scream finally formed, and my legs returned to me, I darted forwards and collapsed beside him. He was already dead. His expression was one of pain. One of someone who was not meant to, nor deserve, to die.

  I found myself unable to run. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I could not flee. Not this time. I called out into the street like a lost child, howling for someone to find me.

   "Mu
rder... murder in the street...”

Many people gathered at the funeral of London's Greatest Detective. They were people from all walks of life - politicians, policemen, bankers, lawyers, all the way down to the working class people. We all huddled around the freshly dug grave en mass. Every one of us watched as James' casket vanished under layers of dirt. I watched as my friend was buried. I was barely able to contain myself, knowing that I was the one who had helped condemn him.

   I remained transfix
ed throughout the entire ceremony. I let the hate and anger build up inside me. I let it consume my soul and harnessed it as a tool to strike out. Seeing my close friend now lifeless before me both enraged and sickened me. When the ceremony came to an end the good people paid their respects and left. I, however, remained routed to the spot, unable to move, transfixed at the fresh grave before me. I felt drawn towards it, as if the hole in the ground had been meant for me instead; perhaps it was. I felt as if a part of me now lay buried under the dirt, never to be revived.

   A biting breeze cut through the trees, whistling and taking away the silence. I felt alone. For the first time ever, I felt truly alone.

   The sun shone down over the graves of the cemetery, almost mockingly to those who would never rise to see it again. I continued to stand by the grave, staring in disbelief. Was my friend, once full of life and hope, really buried under there? Still and rotting? My mind could not comprehend it. I wanted to cry, to be sorry, but no part of me actually believed that James was gone.

   I barely noticed Francis walk up behind me. He did not say anything at first, simply lingering as I had my moment. Francis h
ad not cried during the funeral; but his face had gradually contorted in an expression of anger. The situation we were in, the absurd horror of it all, it felt like he was the only friend I now had in that cold, dark world.

   It was a good long while befo
re he managed to break the silence between us both with a dry, hoarse confession. "I am leaving."

   I turned to him, but found myself unable to make eye contact, the situation beyond my capabilities. I instead stared at his feet, watching as they sunk int
o a sea of dying leaves. "L-leaving?"

   "North. Europe. Wherever. I just need to get out of here before I end up the same way." Francis' glaze flickered over the fresh dirt of James' grave, barely able to comprehend the situation
.

   Although I understood
his reasoning, I could not help but feel disappointed. "And what of everything that has gone on here?"

   He grimaced. "I will forget about it and endeavour never to let these times cross my mind again. You too should leave - and never return. Things will
only get worse here otherwise."

   I stalled, having no answer. My brain was unable to think beyond the loss of my great friend right now, although the horror of it all was beginning to claw its way to the forefront of my mind again.

   When I next tried to speak I thought that I would sound confident and committed, but the shaking mortality in my voice was no doubt apparent to the both of us. "I do not know what I will do, but I will stay. I feel like I should do something."

   Francis' eyes widened, whet
her out of disbelief or understanding I was unsure. "I see little more you can do, Eric. It would do you no good to remain here. What do you hope to achieve? If you remain here then only death awaits, both for you and those around you."

   I stared at him.
I considered telling him that my Father had met with the same fate; that they all did, eventually. I did not want to tell him that nobody had ever escaped. I hoped that he would be the first. The exception.

   But still, he w
as giving up. I wanted to argue. Is that what he would really have me do, after such an ordeal? But, Francis was right. The forces of which I struggled with seemed beyond any physical retribution. There was no true way to kill or destroy this monster, for its evil seemed to exist as a concept. The very thing we had struggled with all along kept changing form and I wondered when it would end. Perhaps even to attempt revenge was venturing to destroy myself - a route I wished not to take. My encounter with Him still burned fresh, for he simply toyed with my mind. Every dark corner of the world was filled with His evil. I wanted to leave, I so very did, but before I could I would need to find a way to end Him, else I would live in fear for all eternity. And even if I did successfully flee, as I hoped Francis would, he would proceed to burn my life as he had done others. I had to think of Lilly.

  
"Get your things and leave Francis," I said, my mind made up on the matter. "Do not worry about me."

   Francis nodded, a grave understanding sinki
ng in. "Then this is it. It is an unwise decision you commit to, and I shall not remain to see it through." He said nothing more on the matter and walked towards me, I thought for an embrace, but instead he bypassed me to pay his respects to James' grave. He turned, knowing that it could be the last time that we would see one another, and walked away without warmth nor hope.

   "I hope that I may see you again, friend," I called out, but he did not respond. Instead
he walked away without hesitation. He paused only once: he crouched down beside a small grave, running his fingers over the headstone for a respectful minute, and then

left. That was the last time I ever saw Francis.

   I looked down at James' grave, feeling like a hollow man. I would pay my respects in the horror I would endure to fix this, to put everything right, and I promised myself to make things as best I could.

   The arrangement had been made that, following the funeral, th
ose who remained a part of this nightmare were to return to Lucius' house. His maid made us feel most welcoming, for she was in the belief that those who now sat in his living room were his friends in life. She plied us with drink and we toasted him, though we did not know why. Funerals are a strange thing; you do what you feel you are meant to do, but not what is actually a reflection of how you feel. It is almost as if the entire thing is a play within itself, and in turn a mockery of the dead in question. The men around me were indifferent to his death; and I wished not to toast him, only to break down and cry.

   Lucius
was the first to break the conversation from the admiring his decor to something more impending. "Well, as seen as we are all here... I guess this is as good a time as any to begin the next meeting."

   I
said, "Now? Of all times? Have some decency."

   "I will have none, for none will be shown towards us. We have this meeting now for there are matters to be discussed that cannot wait.
Where is Francis, Eric?”

 
“Francis has fled in the understanding that I think we all have come to: we will all be killed. He suggested me to me, as I suggest to you now, that those of you who feel that they can leave London and everything behind. Vanish into the shadows if you must, but leave no trace, nor make no attempt to return. Death only awaits you. I feel that the attack on my house was meant to kill me. I feel as though my attacker is aware of my survival, and it will be only a matter of time until he discovers my new locale. The rest of you will follow.”

   The room was silent for a while until Harry spoke. “
And you will do the same, Eric? You will flee?”

   Would I do the same? Of course not. I did not truly believe escape was possible, especially without some form of clos
ure. It was not just that which spurred me on though, I could lie to the others, but never myself. The entire worth of The Hudson Group sat in that bank under our names. All I had to do was get to it and my life would be made. So would I be lying if I said that I would leave? Even if it was, admittedly, later and much richer than implied? "I will leave London when the time is right," I said, in the firm belief that it were no lie. "And, for the sakes of your own lives, I suggest you all leave sooner."

   Pa
lmer spat, "Tosh!" And with that he marched out of the room with no break in his step.

   I turned to Harry
and Lucius. "It is imperative you must leave. Do you understand?"

  
Harry said, "But where will I go? How will I live? London is my life. My family, my friends, my work..."

   "Your death, too. Would you s
it here and die for such a thing? Leave, Harry. For the sake of your future."

   “
The group has been dismantled,” Lucius said. “The killer no longer works in our favour. I believe it will be a mere matter of time until he finds us alone, for I have no doubt he has been watching us for some time. You could keep in the company of friends, but then he will be forced to strike out. There is no sanctity here, Harry. Listen to Eric.”

   He stared at
us for the longest time, he face forever growing older as he did so. Eventually he nodded, as if nodding himself out of a daydream, and placed his glass down, draped his coat over his shoulders and made his way towards to exit. As he did so he placed his hand upon my shoulder, but did not manage to speak the words that swirled in his mind. He left in silence.

   And that was that. Palmer had made his decision to stay
in London, for his own infernal reasons. Harry had not spoken a word, but I knew he intended to leave, and that was enough for me. My work, as far as protecting those around me, was done. Well - nearly done. There was one other: Lilly. As long as I remained at her house she remained endangered, and I knew I must disappear. As far as I knew the murderer presumed me dead, but if he ever found me alive then the first thing he would do would be to come to Lilly's. I knew that I must leave: under the comfort of night, I decided.

   I went to leave, b
ut found I could not. The door handle would not turn in my hand, my wrist would not twist by my own admission. There was still more to be said tonight. I turned to face the parlour, where Lucius sat with his back to me, facing the fire.

   “
Words will not fix anything now, Eric,” he called out, sensing that I had stalled. “Words are just that; words.”

   I walked over to him. “
On the contrary, words are all we have has since the beginning and it has somehow still left a path of death behind us.”

   Lucius p
laced his glass on the table. “So what exactly is it you want? I cannot pardon your actions, nor can I forgive you.”

   “
You have given up? Join me in trying to end this damned thing, Lucius. It is the only way we can get out of this now.”

   Lucius did no
t respond, as if expecting this plea. Was he entertaining the thought? I could not tell from his reaction. He simply pulled a fresh cigar from the table closest to him, lit it on a nearby candle and began to smoke. “Eric...”

   “
You are the one with the drive, the one who wants everything. Palmer is too bone idle, Harry too fearful. But you, you would fight, would you not?”

   Lucius let out a tired and long sigh, but I did not let him cut me off. I had sat and listened to him talk for months now whilst men
died. It was my turn to talk now and his turn to listen.

   I continued, “
I know you fear Him. I know you have seen Him do things, and you believe there is no escape from it. Perhaps, but why not try? To sit and accept death, it seems so unlike you.”

   L
ucius eyed me silently, almost as if he found my outburst charming.

   “
Well, what say you? I am right, am I not?”

   Smoke trailed into the air as Lucius pu
lled the cigar from his mouth. “And if you were, Eric, would it change a damn thing? At what point do you think it ends? There are Jacks all around us, Eric. Somebody waiting to stick the knife in at every corner. I am sick of the killing, of the fighting. Perhaps this Jack is the end of this particular strand, or perhaps there are more Jacks beyond him. How do we know it is only he who conspires against us? We have seen little of Him, and He remained shrouded by darkness. Even if you did defeat Him, it would only be a matter of time before somebody else picked up His work.”

   The deflect
ion was unexpected. I had expected Lucius to make some excuse, or even admit me right. This was worse, he was gone entirely.
And he was right.
Was all this effort for naught? Whether it was Lucius or I, or anybody else; this mess would keep going on. Were we too deep in now to escape? How many watchful eyes were upon us, waiting for our blood? We had known Him as Jack, but perhaps Jack had been They all along. And Jack, or the Jacks of the world, were going to hunt us down regardless of our actions.

   Lucius continued, “
Do you not see, Eric? It does not matter who brought this Jack to the group any more. All that matters is that He is here, and we opened the door for Him. We are not entirely ourselves anymore; this will weigh down on our minds for all eternity. I feel old, Eric, and I wish not to have that. Not to live in fear of every waking moment should it all repeat itself. So what would you have be do? We could fight Him, sure, but He is a trained assassin it appears, and I wish not to go that route. Perhaps you would have me ask Him nicely to stop doing was He is doing? Perhaps you would think it unwise, but…”