The Whitechapel Fiend (Tales from Shadowhunter Academy 3)

"It's being remarkably consistent, though," Will said. "It always comes as a man and it always takes women. We're getting nowhere with this."

"Or we're getting everywhere," Gabriel replied. "It hasn't come back."

"We can't do this forever."

They'd been having this same conversation every night for the past week. This one ended as it usually did, with the two couples leaning against each other in the back of the carriage and falling asleep until they reached the Institute. They greeted their children, who were having their breakfast with Bridget, and they listened with half-closed eyes as Anna rambled on about her many plans for the day and James banged his spoon.

Tessa and Will started the climb up the steps to their bedroom. Cecily waited for Gabriel, who was lingering in the front parlor.

"I'll be up shortly," he said, his eyes bloodshot. "I just want to read the morning papers."

Gabriel always did this--always checked, every morning. So Tessa, Will, and Cecily returned to bed. Once in their bedroom, Tessa cleaned her face in the basin with the hot water Bridget had left. Their fire was burning, and the bed was turned back, waiting for them. They fell into it gratefully.

They had barely fallen asleep when Tessa heard a fevered banging at the door and Gabriel admitted himself.

"It's happened again," he said, breathless. "By the Angel, this is the worst one yet."

The carriage was recalled, and within the hour, they were on their way back to the East End, this time dressed in gear.

"It happened in a place called Miller's Court, off Dorset Street," Gabriel said.

Of all the terrible streets in East London, Dorset Street was the worst. It was a short road, just off Commercial Street. Tessa had learned much of the goings-on of Dorset Street in the last few weeks. A pair of abusive slum landlords controlled much of the street. There was so much screaming, so much poverty and stench crowded into a small space that it felt like it could push the air out of the lungs. The houses there were subdivided into tiny rooms, each little space rented away. This was a street where everyone had an empty stare, where the prevailing feeling was of desperation.

On the way, Gabriel told them what he'd managed to find out from the morning papers--the address (number thirteen), the victim's name (Mary Kelly). There was a parade moving through the city for Lord Mayor's Day. News of the crime had spread, though, and was making its way along the parade route. Newspaper boys were chanting about the murder and selling papers like mad. Cecily peered out from the curtain of the carriage.

"They seem to be celebrating it," she said. "They're smiling and running to buy the newspapers. My God, how can people celebrate such a thing?"

"It's interesting," Will said, with a dark grin. "Danger is appealing. Especially to those with nothing to lose."

"It's going to be madness down there," Gabriel said.

Indeed, crowds had already gathered all along the road to Dorset Street. The residents were all out watching the police. The police were attempting to hold people back from a small, dark doorway halfway up the road.

"There," Gabriel said. "Miller's Court. We won't be able to get near it unless you can get in, Tessa. There's a detective down there called Abberline from Scotland Yard. If we can get him over here, or one of the constables working inside the room . . ."

"I'll get one of them," Will said, breaking through the crowd.

He returned a few minutes later with a man of middling age, with a kindly appearance. He did appear to be very busy, and his forehead was creased with consternation. Whatever Will had told him, it was enough to lure him away from the place of the crime.

"Where is it?" he said, following Will. "You're quite sure . . ."

"Quite sure."

It was hard to keep people from following them, so Cecily, Tessa, and Gabriel had to block the way while Will led the inspector down an alley. He whistled a few moments later. He was standing in the doorway of a cheap rented room.

"In here," Will said. The inspector was in the corner, looking quite asleep. His clothes were missing. "He'll be fine, but he'll likely wake up soon. Put these on."

While Tessa took the clothes and changed herself into the form of Abberline, Will filled her in on a few more facts he had gotten from people in the street. Mary Kelly was probably last seen at two thirty in the morning, but one person claimed to have seen her as late as eight thirty. No matter what, whatever had killed her had probably long since vanished.

Once Tessa was ready, Will helped her push her way back through the crowd, down Dorset Street, to the small entryway that was Miller's Court. Tessa stepped through the dark passageway into a very small courtyard, barely wide enough to turn around in. There were several houses here, cheaply whitewashed. Dozens of faces peered at her from dirty, broken windows.

Room thirteen was barely a room--it was clearly part of a larger space in which a cheap partition had been constructed. It was mostly empty, containing only a few pieces of broken furniture. It was very, very hot, as if a fire had blazed all night.

In all her time fighting demons, Tessa had never seen anything like this.

There was blood.

It was in such a large amount that Tessa wondered how one small body could contain so much. It had turned part of the floor black, and the bed, on which the woman rested, was utterly stained. There was no other color. As for the woman herself--she was no more. Her body was destroyed in a way that could barely be comprehended. This had taken time. Her face--there was nothing much left to speak of. Many parts of her were removed. They could be seen in many places, around her on the bed. Some parts of her were on a table.

A man was leaning over her. There was a doctor's bag on the floor, so Tessa steadied herself and then spoke.

"Well, doctor?"

The doctor turned.

"I think we'll have to move her soon. They're trying to break in. We'll have to move her carefully."

"Summarize for me the general situation. I need a concise report."

The doctor stood and wiped his bloodstained hands on his trousers.

"Well, a very deep cut across the throat. The head is nearly off. You can see the nose is gone, much of the skin. There are so many slashes and incisions in the abdomen I barely know where to start. The abdominal cavity is empty and her hands have been placed inside the opening. You can see he's left some of the contents here in this room, but some are missing. The heart is gone. The skin on the table I believe to be from the thighs . . ."

Tessa could not really take in much more of the information. This was enough.

"I see," she said. "There's someone I have to speak to."

"Make the arrangements for her to be moved," the doctor said. "We can't keep her here. They're going to get in. They want to see."

"Constable," Tessa said to a policeman by the door, "see to it that a cart is brought."

Tessa walked away quickly, back down through the crowd, breathing in as deeply as she could to get the smell of blood and entrails out of her nose. She felt a queasiness she had not experienced since her pregnancies. Will took one look at her and embraced her. Cecily came forward and put smelling salts under her nose. They had learned that smelling salts were necessary.

"Bring out the detective," Tessa said, when she had recovered. "He's needed."

The inspector was retrieved and dressed. The smelling salts were applied, and he slowly came around. Once they had him on his feet and assured him that he had simply fainted, they left the area quickly and walked toward White's Row.

"Whatever it was," Gabriel said, "it's likely long gone. It happened hours ago. By having the body indoors, it went unnoticed for some time."

He took out his Sensor, but it showed no activity.

"I suggest we return to the Institute," he said. "We've learned what we can here. It's time to apply ourselves to the problem in a different way. We have to look at the clues it leaves behind."

"The people," Tessa said.

"The people," Gabriel corrected himself.

/> *

They were more awake now. Tessa wondered if she would ever sleep again. She found the transition from East to West London more repugnant this time--the clean buildings, the space, the trees, the parks, the lovely carriages, and the lovely clothes and shops. And just a mile or so away . . .

"What is done cannot be undone," Will said, taking her hand.

"You didn't see her."

"But we will catch the thing that attacked her."

As soon as they turned onto Fleet Street, Tessa felt something wasn't right. She couldn't figure out what it was. The street was utterly quiet. One of the servants from a neighboring property was sweeping leaves from the step. There was a coal cart and a wagon from a greengrocer delivering vegetables. She sat upright, every nerve tense, and when the carriage stopped, she swung the door open quickly and bounded out. Seeing her reaction, the other three followed in a similar fashion.

The first thing that confirmed her fears was that Bridget did not greet them at the door.

"Bridget?" Tessa called.

Nothing.

She looked up at their windows--clean, unbroken, dark. The curtains had been drawn. Will pushed open the door.

They found Bridget at the foot of the staircase. Cecily rushed to her.

"Unconscious," she said. "But breathing. The children! Who is with the children?"

As one, they raced up the stairs. Every light was out, every door closed, every curtain drawn. They all went in separate directions, running to the nursery, to the bedrooms, to every room on the upper floors. Nothing.

"Shadowhunters . . ."

The voice was neither male nor female, and it seemed to come from everywhere. Will and Tessa met in the corridor, and Will held a witchlight high.

"What are you?" he yelled. "Where are the children?"