Chapter 5 Mari #2
“Feather, you get a bag of onions and the roast, along with some parsnips. Tulli, see if you can get some mulled cider and some fire whiskey. I'll go get the cold-weather clothing, some boots, and the other items we’ll need for our journey.”
The clothes were for the four of us, on the off chance we actually managed to stow away on a goods delivery riverboat from topside without getting caught and survived the grueling climb through all seven levels of the netherworld.
The stew I'd be making was meant to fill the girls' bellies tomorrow night...our last night here.
And the alcohol was meant to put them in a festive mood.
…Right before they succumbed to the sleeping draught I’d lace it with.
My stomach roiled with guilt, and I tried not to think about the four Doves I’d be leaving behind. Getting me, Tulli, and Feather out all at once was a feat that had taken almost a decade to plan for. Adding Jastani to the mix had made it a near impossible one.
There was no way I could take them all.
“Stop that now, love. There’s nothing to do for it,” Tulli whispered, pulling that all-too-annoying mindreading thing again.
“They’ve been in this life for so long now, they wouldn’t know what to do elsewhere in any case.
Besides, you know it’s a total crapshoot.
We’re 50/50 to get out at best, even with just a small group.
They probably would choose not to risk it if you asked them. ”
The same, sound reasoning I’d used myself when I couldn’t sleep at night. And somehow, it rang just as hollow, each and every time.
“We can still stay,” Feather added, nudging my shoulder with hers. “As long as we have each other, we’ll be alright?”
It was the lilting question mark hanging on the end there that had me clenching my jaw with renewed resolve.
“We’ll let the girls know we’ll be closed Saturday night for a Dove’s Appreciation party.”
They’d awaken to a note and enough money to get through the first few months, and to tell them that Snow was officially in charge. It was the best I could do for them.
Tulli tipped her head in a grim nod. “It’s not your job to save them all.”
Then why did it feel like it was?
But I’d barely thought the question when a terrified shriek cut through the late morning bustle.
“Dead! Fucking hell, another dead Dove!”
The blood drained from my cheeks, and I locked eyes with a stricken Feather for a brief moment before breaking into a sprint in the direction of the screams.
Please, God, not one of ours…
By the time I got there, the screams had stopped, but there was a low din of chatter from the crowd gathered in a circle at the end of the last alleyway, where the town square ended and the river began.
My heart battered against my ribs like a trapped bird as I shouldered my way through, ignoring the low growls of irritation.
I forced myself to block out the chatter and the snippets of animated conversation around me.
"Do we know her?"
"I can't really see her face."
"Should we flip her over?"
More curiosity than horror. Fucking demons.
By the time I pushed my way between two beefy demons, I was expecting to find more people in the way and stumbled forward.
In the center of the circle, I nearly tripped over the bare foot of a naked woman lying sprawled in the dirt.
Her toes were painted cherry red, and I swallowed past the knot in my throat.
Blood.
So much blood. Far more than a body this size could stand to lose.
I didn’t need to flip the woman over to know who it was. The trademark fall of silvery curls were a dead giveaway. Alethea, one of Kami’s girls. She’d been a Dove as long as I’d been in Seventhell.
I sucked in a deep breath, swaying on my feet, dizzy with relief. Maybe that made me a bad person. But in that moment, I didn’t care.
The relief was all-too fleeting as the two demons I’d pushed past pressed forward.
“She might still be alive,” one of them grunted, already bending low and gripping her by the hip and shoulder. “We need to turn her over and at least–”
He broke off with a gasp and jumped back as Alethea’s body flopped to the hard-packed earth, face up.
“Fucking hell!” he snarled, frantically swiping his gore-covered hands on his pants.
I pressed my knuckles to my lips and swallowed hard.
The woman’s pansy-colored eyes were wide and sightless, mouth agape in a silent scream.
Her throat was slit, leaving an ugly, gaping wound that would’ve been fatal all by itself.
But if that hadn’t told the story, the ropy pile of innards strewn around her body would’ve done the job.
"Just like Breona," a low female voice murmured. “I was the one that found her. Seen it with me own eyes.”
“She was the same?” I demanded, lowering my shaking hand as I turned to the woman. We’d heard rumors, of course, but the details had been all over the place, growing more terrible with each telling. “Her throat and belly cut?”
“Exactly. ‘Cept they were draped over her shoulder, like a scarf.”
“Oh, God…” Feather’s voice was full of the same dread that curled around me like smog, thick enough to choke on.
"Sweet mother of pearl," Tulli murmured as she moved in to flank me. “Isn’t that the same way–?”
She didn’t have to finish her sentence. We were all thinking the very same thing.
Back home in England, a notorious killer had killed at least five women of the night and held an entire country in the grips of terror.
So much so that he was still talked about around campfires, and in hushed whispers a century and a half later.
Not just in England, but around the entire human realm.
And this…this looked the same as his signature style.
Jack the fucking Ripper.
My lips were numb as a prayer escaped them.
“If there is a god, may he help us all.”