Mississippi DEAD (6 page)
Authors: Shawn Weaver
* * *
Unknown to William or Jenny, Captain Jacobson also heard the splash. With over twenty-five years at the helm of the New Moon, he knew every creak and groan his ship made. He heard the unique screech of the aft window hinge from the room across the hall, followed by a large splash.
Something strange is going on in that room, the captain thought, and I’ll bloody hell find out what it is.
The captain, hunkered over a bottle of rum, heard the sound of the window being closed and latched. He took another sip and hatched a plan for keeping an eye on those women, locked in their room with the body of their dead uncle.
* * *
Agnes quietly sobbed as she leaned helplessly against the wall.
Jenny pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and handed it to her. “What’s done is done,” she said, placing a hand on Agnes’s shoulder and guiding her to a chair.
“What have we done?” Agnes asked, her voice lifting an octave higher than normal.
“Shhh,” Jenny said, calming her friend. “We did what we had to do. Master William needed her, and our lives are forfeit to his needs.”
Agnes looked up at Jenny. Her tear-streaked face showed grief and terror. Suddenly, she shot out of the chair, arms held tight to her sides, hands held tightly closed. “I…I cannot…,” she stammered. Agnes’s wide eyes went blank as her voice trailed off. Wavering a moment, she sat quietly back down. Trails of tears streaked her face and her fighting spirit surrendered to the influence of her new master.
“Rest,” Jenny said, moving to William’s coffin. She placed a hand on the smooth polished lid and spread her fingers out as if she felt William below the surface. “It won’t be long my dear,” she said to both William and Agnes. “It won’t be long until our new lives begin.
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Ripper’s Wrath
Chapter One
Hot steam radiated from the train’s undercarriage as Samantha stepped from the passenger car to the concourse. She looked around to gain her bearings. Immediately, sweat appeared on her brow and the back of her neck. Overdressed in her floor-length skirt with long-sleeved blouse, the warmth of her garments stifled her.
She watched the people around her bustle about the train cars as passengers came and went. Somewhere off to her left, the sounds of a brass band floated on the air, mingling with the aroma of something delicious. Samantha had no idea where the aroma came from, but her growling stomach urged her to find the source then sample the local dishes. She had heard of the wonders of Cajun food and the smells enticed her.
A young boy approached her through the throng of people. Dark red suspenders held up his knee-high britches and a beret sat tilted on his head. A dingy, gray shirt along with a dirty face showed that the boy had not washed in days, perhaps weeks. The boy snatched the beret from his head, twisting it with nervousness and forcing a smile.
“My name is Cap,” the boy said. “May I help you with your bags?”
Samantha returned a polite smile as she noticed the porter stepping off the train with her bags. The heavy-set man waddled off the iron steps, placing her luggage on the boardwalk. He tipped his hat toward Samantha before climbing back aboard to attend to other passengers.
“I have a wagon close by,” Cap said, struggling to maintain the false smile. “I can take you to the Hotel Rue Antoine. It’s the best hotel in town, fitting for such a fine lady as you.”
“The best you say?” Samantha replied. She wondered if the hotel employed this boy, or if he survived on tips from passengers. He seemed pleasant enough, and anxious to win her favor.
Cap nodded with vigor, hoping his ploy continued to work. He needed to get this woman to the Hotel Rue Antoine as Becca had instructed. Offering his services as baggage handler and driver seemed the easiest way to accomplish his goal. He meant to please the young vampire who had captured his heart and he could not bear to disappoint her.
His drive to please Becca was only half of Cap’s motivation to succeed. The beautiful black woman named Lilly Boudreaux provided the rest of his incentive. Lilly and her uncanny abilities terrified him—like describing the fine lady that stood before him to perfection—without ever having seen her. She had painted a picture of the woman in Cap’s mind, down to the detail of the tiny pillbox hat she wore over her blonde hair. But even more terrifying was when Lilly became the woman who could talk to the dead. Her eyes would roll back, her voice would change, and then she would answer to the name of Marie Laveau, former Vodou Queen of New Orleans. Cap shuddered at the thought of facing Marie should he fail.
Samantha snapped her fingers in front of Cap’s face, bringing him out of his thoughts.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” Cap said. He looked into the pretty woman’s eyes. “So, you’ll be going to the Hotel Rue Antoine?” he stammered.
“Yes, and without further delay,” Samantha replied, waving a hand toward her bags.
If the Rue Antoine was the finest hotel in town, Samantha figured there was a good chance Jack Morrow would be staying there. If not, the hotel would be as good a place as any to start searching for the elusive man.
Cap almost jumped for joy at his slight victory. Instead, he slapped his beret back on his head as he rushed to take Samantha’s luggage.
“Follow me. My wagon is just outside the station,” Cap said. He picked up her bags then led Samantha away from the train.
* * *
Mindlessly tapping the cold crust of his toast against the side of his cup, Jack looked out the window of the restaurant connected to the Rue Antoine. He had scored a major victory over his foes on the previous night, but instead of celebrating, Jack felt as empty as ever.
He had come to New Orleans in pursuit of a powerful vampire named William Carpenter. With the help of his friend, Helena, he had accomplished his goal. After destroying Carpenter, the victory fell short of expectations. Jack felt no elation or sense of accomplishment.
Helena sat beside Jack in the restaurant, looking at her friend as he stared out the window. She pitied him for what he had endured over the past months, but admired his strength and determination. Helena was a white witch, gifted with amazing psychic abilities. Even though she could have easily used her powers to read Jack’s mind, there was no need. She knew his feelings without the use of her powers. She decided to let Jack be with his thoughts for a few moments.
Helena sipped tea from a small cream-colored china cup as she conversed with the man who sat on her other side, the legendary Doctor John Watson. Known for his famed adventures alongside the great Sherlock Holmes, the man held true to his word to help Jack rid the world of the monster who had caused the death of Jack’s one true love.
Watson had not been a willing participant in the hunt for William Carpenter, but had become involved along the way. Upon their first meeting on the ship from London to New York,
Helena and Watson had taken a liking for one another. John was a charming man, witty and knowledgeable on a great many subjects. He had soon swept Helena off her feet. He enjoyed her company, and wanted to stay near her, fearing for her safety. They had grown close, and Watson hoped to nurture their relationship.
Jack’s thoughts drifted between Sarah, his beloved fiancée, who had died at the hands of William carpenter, and the vicious little vampire known as Becca, who had gotten away the night before. Becca still prowled the streets of New Orleans, aided by the current Vodou Queen, Lilly Boudreaux. While Becca appeared as a child, Jack knew she was a ruthless vampire who had served Carpenter for years before Jack destroyed him. She was every bit as dangerous as any other vampire he had ever encountered.
How many other vampires wandered the streets of this city? Could Jack leave them without further challenge? He had completed his mission to destroy Carpenter, but the thought of leaving the little vampire alive bothered him. He would have to be wary of her while he remained in New Orleans.
They were safe for now, as the daylight shone through the restaurant’s lace curtains. The trio ate their breakfast, but only Helena and Doctor Watson seemed to be enjoying it. While the New Orleans food was scrumptious, they enjoyed each other’s company even more.
“Jack, eat,” Helena said, setting down her cup of tea.
Jack managed a grim smile. “I am not hungry,” he said as he looked out the window.
“So, lad, what do we do now?” Watson asked.
Jack looked out the window for a long moment before responding. “I’m not sure,” he replied. He turned to Helena. “Is Sarah’s soul still trapped in purgatory?”
The look in Jack’s eyes told her everything she needed to know. Since he had learned that Sarah’s soul was trapped in Purgatory, and therefore could not pass on until the vampire who killed her was destroyed, Jack had been on a determined mission to free her. He had become the murderous Jack the Ripper in order to draw out the vampires of Whitechapel by mutilating their consorts—something intended to get their attention. Jack now needed to know if his mission proved successful.
“I need to prepare in order to make contact,” Helena said as she gently placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I also need to rest. My abilities have been tested to their limits and need to regenerate.”
Disappointed, Jack turned away.
“This evening, Jack,” Helena said, giving Jack’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be ready this evening to try to contact Sarah.”
“Let’s go for a stroll,” Doctor Watson said to Jack after a moment of uncomfortable silence. He looked at Helena, “You do not mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” Helena replied, sensing the men needed to talk.
Doctor Watson gave Helena a warm smile as he patted her hand. “We won’t be long. You get your rest. Knock on my door if you need me.”
Helena nodded, and then gave Jack a light kiss on the cheek as she stood. “Soon, Jack,” she whispered to him. “We will know very soon.”
Jack stood and hugged Helena. He was a man of few words, but Helena seemed to read him like a book. Helena then hugged Watson, lingering in his embrace a moment before turning to leave.
“Come, young Jack,” Watson said. “I’ve a great many things to ask you about. Let’s get some fresh air as we walk along Lake Pontchartrain.”
Less than enthusiastic, Jack followed Watson to the door.
The pair remained silent as they made their way beyond the crowded sidewalks around the hotel. Once they were alone, Watson began to ask questions.
“What are your intentions now, Jack?” he asked.
Jack took in a long breath before answering. “I guess I’ll be going back to New York before departing for London.”
“What of that nasty little creature, the one who got away from us last night?” Watson asked.
“Her name is Becca,” Jack said. “She is not my concern. As long as Sarah is free, I will let others tend to the creatures of the night. I’ve had my fill.”
Watson nodded as if he understood. “I can’t say that I blame you there. I have only been involved in this for mere days, and I’ve had my fill as well.”
Jack said nothing, just kept his head down as he walked toward the lake.
After a moment, Watson grabbed Jack by the elbow. “I’m sorry, Jack. I have something to ask you that will require a straight answer.”
Jack stopped and looked directly in Watson’s eyes. The man had saved his life on more than one occasion, and Jack felt he deserved answers.
Watson placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack, are you…” He paused as if looking for the right words. “Oh, Bloody Hell. Are you Jack the Ripper?”
The statement stunned Jack. He thought he had hidden all traces of his months as Jack the Ripper. He pulled loose from Watson’s grasp and continued walking. Watson hurried along to
match Jack’s pace, but his bad leg slowed him down. His cane only tapped the ground on every other step.
“Damn you, Jack,” Watson said in an agitated voice. “Answer my question, man! I need to know. I need to look out for Helena.”
Jack stopped in his tracks, grabbing Watson by the lapels. “You insult me if you think I would allow any harm to come to Helena,” he said through gritted teeth. “I would protect her with my very life.” As he let go of Watson’s jacket, Jack continued to stare Watson in the eye.
Watson stared back. “You are Jack the Ripper,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Jack turned and walked away.
“Tell me why, Jack!” Watson called. “Tell me why!”
Jack once again stopped. “I did it for one reason,” Jack said. “I did it to save my Sarah from an eternity in Purgatory.” Jack moved closer to Watson, almost nose to nose. “But you already knew that, didn’t you, Watson? What you really want to know is why I mutilated those women. You want to know why I carved them up after they were dead. Am I right?”