you should.”

  The woman raised her mouth into a smile, a dangerously beautiful smile that would have filled any lesser man with dread. But not Jack, he wouldn’t be fooled by anyone. Let alone this red-head.

  “Would that new routine happen to involve shared showers, twenty-four hour guard patrols and iron bars between me and my.... victims.”

  She smiled. “Maybe, or maybe it would in fact be freeing you from the leash of those constraints and allowing you to roam around like the little monster you are.” Jack didn’t reply. He sat very still. The muscles that lined his arms began to tense as he gritted his teeth, his hands curling into fists.

  “Tell me your name, missy.”

  “You can cut the charm straight away, Mr Ripper. I’m not that kind of girl.” For the first time his lips twisted into a cruel smile, showing her the small interlocked teeth that filled his mouth.

  “Please, call me Jack.”

  “I’m fine with Mr Ripper actually, saves this from getting personal.”

  He flexed his fingers. “So, what are you? Some kind o’ copper?”

  “You could say that,” she said, “wouldn’t mean you’re right though. I’ve heard a lot about you, Jack Ripper. Two dozen severe cases of grievous bodily harm, and far too many murder sprees for me to count on one hand. Am I missing anything?”

  “I did also steal a box of donuts when I was a young’un.”

  The woman’s face remained stern as though she hadn’t even registered what he said. “I have to say, Mr Ripper. After hearing all that, then meeting you, I am thoroughly disappointed.”

  “They say you should never meet your idols,” he said with a slight chuckle, though a part of him was hurt by what she said, “you can always rely on them being a disappointment. But perhaps I can do some to qualm these feelings of yours. Why don’t I give you a taste of Jack the Ripper.”

  “I’d rather it if you just came with me quietly and met my employer.”

  Jack stood up to his full height, letting the coat slip away from his body as he flicked the hat onto the ground with a quick nod of his head. Now, the woman could see his full form: his thin skeletal body which was held together by a thin layer of white skin, almost transparent. He waited for her look of fear, but it never came.

  “You never did gimme your name, darlin.”

  She smiled. “Viper,” she said, her voice not wavering with fear but instead reaching peaks of excitement, “and I must insist, Mr Ripper, that you come with me.”

  “I don’t think that will be happening,” he said, his grin becoming wider as his mouth reached literally from ear to ear, “I’ll be seein’ ya.” Viper sprung up from her seat but she was too slow, he was already gone. Bounding down the road at a ridiculous speed, moving on all fours like a sprinting cheetah. He heard people scream but he just ignored them. They were his play things, his victims to have fun with.

  Each and every person in this city would die at his hand. He was just saving them for later.

  Jack turned down a dark alley and then tossed himself into the air, bounced off the walls and pulled himself up onto the side of the building with an inhuman strength. He didn’t even break momentum as he ran across the rooftops, soaring over the gaps like they were mere blips rather than massive, gaping holes.

  Eventually, he decided that he had probably lost her. No way could any normal person keep up with him, not even some magical sorcerer. He could sense magic. While he may not have a masterful control of it himself, he knows magic when he sees it, and she certainly had a lot of it. He wondered what she could do, though whatever it was, he wouldn’t find out.

  He looked down to find that the streets were still sparse. In an ideal world he would be able to hunt in broad daylight while the streets were packed, but it just wasn’t safe. He would have to settle with picking strays off one by one under the cover of darkness.

  He found his target, fixed his eyes on her and began to slip across the rooftops, following her as she walked across the street. His feet skidded to a halt at the edge of the building. The whole city was silent, it was haunting in a relaxing kind of way. Perfect time for a murder, especially now that he had been rattled by that lady and had some anger to expel.

  Jack wiped his face clean of sweat before hearing a sound pulsate across the entirety of this urban maze.

  “Stop it,” cried a female voice, “have mercy.” He scanned her voice and identified her as a twenty-five year old woman, smoked by the smell of her. She must be close.

  He decided to leave the woman below him and change his course. This was his city, everyone was his victim and his alone. No one was allowed to steal his toys.

  With a burst of adrenaline, he dived over the edge, using his thick boots to slide down its edge. He took an extra moment to listen for the voice, adjusted his course and began to follow. The voice was still crying out, he wasn’t sure that he would get there on time. If she was dead, then he would need to take a life in retribution. It was only fair.

  Jack stopped at a door. No signs of a break-in, but then again, experts never did leave a trail. He pulled his foot back, tensed his muscles and then kicked the door open with a loud bang.

  “Anybody here?” he called, but no reply, “I’m sorry if this is the wrong house. I would happily pay to reimburse the door that I just shattered, but seriously, get a stronger door.” He was lying of course. If there happened to be someone still alive in the house, he couldn’t risk her seeing him and being let loose. They would be killed quickly, and partially painlessly.

  He made his way into the house, reaching the kitchen. Either someone had spilled a hell of a lot of red paint, or someone was bleeding. Jack had killed enough people to know that the owner of that blood was most likely dead, or on the cusp. He rushed into the room to find the body of the woman lying in a pool of her own blood, her throat was sliced open and her eyes were staring dully upwards. “I’m sorry,” he said,

  “wish I coulda killed you myself.” He climbed the stairs and entered the only door which was left wide open.

  “You were too slow,” said Viper, “bet no one has ever told you that before.” Her back was facing Jack as she looked out the window, watching the waves overlapping each other repeatedly. “If you had been faster you might have got to enjoy that kill yourself. But you weren’t, so you merely got to be an admirer of the art, rather than the artist yourself.”

  “Why did you kill her?” he said, “why steal her from me?”

  She laughed. “Why are you so annoyed about a death of someone who you would have killed eventually anyway? I know your MO, Jack. I wanted to talk to you again, to change your mind.” No one spoke, and she continued to stare out the window. “There’s a storm coming.”

  Jack frowned. “A storm coming? You mean soon something’s going to happen, your employers going to do something?.”

  Finally, Viper did turn. Her body was painted in thick blood, as were the two katanas that lay in each scabbard. “You misread me, Mr Ripper,” she said, “I was being literal. There’s a storm coming.”

  Sure enough, the heavens opened and rain began to pound against the outside of the glass. Jack blushed.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “But in answer to your question, yes, there is a larger plan in motion. And I wish to see you helping it along also.”

  “No one tells me what to do.”

  Viper drew her swords in one fluid movement. “Then I’m afraid, I can’t let you continue in this city. My employer expects results, and those who deny him normally end up in a ditch someplace.”

  Jack stepped forward confidently, positioning his forehead an inch away from the tip of her outstretched sword. His mouth twisted into a smile.

  He jumped upwards, grabbed onto the overhanging light and flicked his foot up to make contact with her face. She slammed back into the wall, all the breath knocked out of her. But she quickly recovered, dodging his incoming attacks.

  Viper grunted in fr
ustration, countering one of his blows with a swipe of the sword. He dodged over it, using his own counter to which she easily swatted away. He could tell they were evenly matched. Only one of them was going to make it out alive.

  Jack slid his hands beneath the bed and heaved upwards, flailing it through the air towards Viper. She dodged to the side like a blur, jumping into a kick and sending him swirling into the door. He climbed up and desperately reached for the handle, but a hand gripped onto his shoulder and dragged him back onto the floor.

  “It’s over,” she said, clearly out of breath, her sword pointing at his heart. He dared not move.

  “Might want to reconsider that,” he said, “turns out, I am interested in helping you. What would the job entail?”

  As she smiled, Jack could see her forked tongue lick her lips. “Very good, Mr Ripper, and we have a job suited to your toolkit. It would involve killing, a great deal of it. As I’ve heard it, you enjoy that particular past-time very much.”

  “You are certainly well informed.”

  “So, we have a deal?”

  “I believe we do.” They shook hands, and it was agreed.

  4

  FRIENDLY NEIGHBOURHOOD ZOMBIE

  NECROMANCER

  As Patience sat in the car alone, she wondered where her uncle was at that exact point in time. She very much doubted it involved any cushioned chairs, hot chocolate with marshmallows or Saturday night television shows – especially considering it was a Tuesday.

  Grim opened