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Craig stared in disbelief into Khan's eyes. This had to be a joke. But, no, the blade was real and its sharp steel was icier than a mother-in-law's kiss.
"Jacqueline the Ripper?"
"It pains me, my friend, but I saw the she-bitch leave your home." Khan's eyes roamed down Craig's length. "You're still alive, so I know you're consorting with her. I can't allow that."
Craig's mind calculated the odds. He knew of Khan's expert swordsmanship, and the immortal had enjoyed centuries of practice. Khan could dispatch Craig with a simple flick of the wrist if he made a wrong move. But he had to-
"Hold it right there."
Craig and Khan turned their heads to see Brianna, her hands holding her pistol with a steady relaxed grip.
"Back off nice and easy, sir." Her voice reflected a cool tone. "That is, if you want to keep your head."
Khan ducked, tossing his cape towards Brianna to cover her vision. With a quick twist, he lashed at her with his sword, aiming for her hand, but Craig kicked the side of Khan's knee. The immortal dropped to the ground and rolled away from them, stopping short of landing in prickly rose bushes. By this time, Brianna had removed Khan's cape from her head and gun hand and pointed it at Khan.
Her voice remained calm. "Stop there. No more warnings."
Khan pulled a rose thorn from his finger, from which blood flowed in a crimson stream, and held it for her to see. "Watch, madame." His face was as still as stone. "You will see how serious I am, and your folly."
Craig, ready to strike, focused on Khan. Brianna gasped upon seeing Khan's small wound heal.
Khan raised a mock-interested brow. "If I can heal so quickly from a rose thorn, how quickly do you think I will heal from your bullets?"
Surprise remained in Brianna's voice, but she fought to maintain her composure. "Craig, who -?"
Khan struck like a snake, but Craig punched first, harder and faster, and hit Khan's wrist. The sword fell to the ground with a harmless ringing as it clattered on the cement flagstones. Meanwhile, Khan's free hand caught Craig unawares and tossed him to the side like a limp dishrag. Craig rolled and felt the breeze of Khan's boot missing his face.
Before the immortal realised it, Brianna's fists punched three times in succession. The blows struck with such force that Khan shook his head in a daze. Brianna moved closer, prepared to deliver the final blow, but Khan recovered too fast. He moved with a dancer's precision, appearing behind her with a knife pressing on her throat's soft skin. Khan's other hand gripped Brianna with a millennium's worth of experience as he backed away.
"It's two hundred years since I killed a woman. Don't force me to break my record."
Craig stood ready, calculating. Brianna was an expert fighter herself. They both looked towards each other, calculating each other's next move.
Craig broke the silence. "Khan, I don't understand. Why are you threatening me in my home?"
From the side, someone whistled aloud. Khan flicked his head towards it, but it was too late. A dark, murky mist appeared in the air, flew straight for Khan's face, and disappeared up his nose.
Aware of Khan's distraction, Brianna reversed Khan's headlock and disarmed him. But the immortal showed no resistance. His body stiffened and appeared to fight itself. He stiffened as though an epileptic fit overtook him, foam appearing at his mouth. Words burbled from his mouth.
Craig flashed forward. "Hurry!" With one hand, Craig released the belt from his trousers. Brianna helped him fasten Khan's hands together after throwing the knife to the side.
Khan continued struggling with himself the whole time. Fear combined with a cocktail of shocked puzzlement and determination flashed in his eyes like a rainbow of thoughts and emotions. His chest expanded with a greedy suck of air before a roar bellowed from his powerful frame.
"What's happening to him?" Brianna fought to hold Khan's feet down while Craig forced pressure on his upper body.
"Tyrone happened."
A puzzled look cross Brianna's face for a second but melted when Khan's boot bashed her shoulder. She caught him again and held him down long enough to cuff his ankles.
Before long, a calm fell over the immortal's face and body. He relaxed, the tension flowing quitting his limbs. Khan's eyes stayed open, but instead of resistance, they reflected quiet patience.
Brianna studied Khan's plain placidness. "What do you mean Tyrone happened?"
Craig stood and lifted his bound friend and led him inside. "I believe there's a misunderstanding from my friend here, Brianna. He believes I've been harbouring someone he's been chasing for just over a century."
Brianna's jaw dropped. "A century? What the hell are you talking about? He can't be any older than thirty-five, if that."
Craig allowed Khan to seat himself in the lounge. At that moment, Emily bustled into the house from outside. "What's happened to Khan?"
Turner appeared too, his coat bulging with something Craig couldn't pick out, but it clanked. He looked at Khan, his eyes opening wide. "Hey! I know that guy! Met him back in 1888."
Once Craig had finished securing Khan's arms further with some rope, he looked at their captive. "Okay, Tyrone, you can let him go now."
Khan's face contorted, twisting about and a moan of displeasure and disgust issued from his mouth. The misty shape that entered him earlier re-emerged from his nose and mouth and ears before heading out the door. Brianna watched as it floated past her and out towards the front door which remained open.
"What is that?"
Craig only smiled, and Turner muttered something about Craig "owing the boy and apology but he knew he wouldn't". A moment later, Tyrone walked through the front door looking jet-lagged.
"Did you see that, Uncle Craig?" he uttered.
Tyrone's adoptive father glanced towards the teenager and offered a wink. "I'm impressed, Tyrone," he replied. "But you still need to go to school." Before Tyrone could reply, Craig turned towards Khan. "Are you ready to talk first before stabbing me with your sword?"
Khan drew a deep breath and shrugged. "It appears I made a mistake, my friend. But what were you doing with her?"
"Friends don't hold swords to our throats." Brianna's words cut the air. "I could have shot you. Who are you?"
Craig held his hands up. "How about everyone calms down?" He looked around at them all. Brianna stood closer to Craig, postured to protect him if Khan jumped again, while the immortal Khan sat bound in the lounge chair. Meanwhile, Tyrone sat opposite from Khan in another chair, and Turner hovered near Emily who was standing silent and watching. "Khan, by your outburst just now, do you believe my client is the woman you are seeking?"
Khan nodded, his eyes narrowed as they flicked over Craig and studied him. "I smell the same fragrance around you as when I first met her over a century ago."
Brianna opened her mouth to say something, but Craig lifted a hand for patience. "Why did you threaten my life?"
At this point, Khan's gaze dropped, but it was for only a moment. "I thought she had weaved a spell around you the way she has others."
"Spell?" Brianna's curiosity refused to stay contained longer.
The look on Brianna's face reminded Craig of the outburst she made that morning. This would make explaining difficult. "As Brianna asked, Khan, what spell? Are we dealing with a witch?"
Khan laughed. "It would not surprise me. But, no, your client is Jacqueline the Ripper. The Ripper was never a male. Everywhere I saw death, she was there, and I'm certain she bewitches men."
Craig shook his head. "That's impossible." But then he thought of how something tickled his sexual urges in the mysterious lady's presence.
Brianna stepped in. "You know what he's talking about, don't you? Did she do something to you?" Her eyes flicked towards Emily who raised an eyebrow of curiosity.
Craig's mind filled with the memory of meeting with his client. "Let me show you what I learned. It's on video, so we can watch it here."
***
After her consultation with Craig Ramsey, Melody caught a bus from the next street. Although nothing occurred for her on a conscious level, Melody sensed something happening from within her psyche. Memories or random thoughts spun, churning in her mind like turbines. The whole thing gave her a painful headache, and she couldn't shake it.
Outside the bus, the world sauntered past as the vehicle travelled, halting now and then. Before long, Melody's eyes grew heavy and shut as she observed the streets and their lights in the advancing dusk. Her head leaned upon the window.
Meanwhile, thoughts wandered through her subconscious, some pausing to tap her dormant conscious side. Other figments raced by, spinning like howling dervishes as they stirred more images and memories. But to Melody, as she lay in her lucid slumber, they presented themselves as disjointed fragments. Some pieces of Craig Ramsey moved through her. Words uttered in the psychic's voice echoed and tumbled past her. She recognised some as memories, but there were others that weren't. At one stage, Craig Ramsey's clothes looked different, older, as though from the Victorian years in old London. Even his face sported mutton chops curling out from his face. Did he have them before? It hurt too much to think of the session.
Melody fought back the sick daze from her mind. Ringing the bell for the bus to stop, Melody stood and waited for its door to open before stepping out into the humid air.
Summer was approaching. She could smell it in the air. But something else hung there too.
A presence.
At first, the being hung in her mind; a dark shape clad in a long jacket that hung to its feet. It reminded her of the man with the glowing eyes whose knife blade scraped along the brick walls and created sparks that danced in the air. But another appeared too. This one was sleeker, lithe and flowing, a feminine force with a fighter's heart. It approached her, breathing down her neck. All the while, the masculine shape followed behind. Was that a laugh?
She hurried, unaware of the other people in the street who watched her lurching steps, like those of a drunk. One approached, a man with kind eyes, but she pushed him away. He regarded her with a surprised expression. Did he know her? No. It didn't matter. She had to move. The shapes were following her.
The feminine shape was familiar. But from where? It walked along beside her. Occasionally, it regarded her with a focused stare before returning its attention to the creature following them. Was this her guardian? A guardian angel she sensed through her throbbing headache? Perhaps.
You owe me ten shillings,
Say the bells at St. Helen's.
The words echoed through her mind and grew louder with each line. But not loud enough for her to miss the sound of steel dragging on bricks. And the laughter.
As though her eyes had been closed for so long, Melody realised where she was. Her mind cleared like clouds leaving the sun.
She was in an alleyway, facing a looming blackness in which anything could hide unseen. The hammering in her chest accompanied her kick-started panic as she turned and hurried back towards the sounds of the street. People hurried about their business, laughing and enjoying the late night trading, unaware of the woman who scurried out into the open.
Fear of embarrassment stopped Melody from running faster, and she slowed to a walk despite the feeling that someone or something continued watching her from the darkness she had escaped. Although it stayed hidden, she felt its withering gaze and insatiable appetite for her. The foreboding stayed with her, clinging like a bad smell.
I'm coming for you, Sirena.
Melody flinched. That name. Who is Sirena, and why did this creature call her that?
Something hammered insider her mind. It sounded crazy, but did she hear a door's squeaky hinges followed by a faint bump? Whatever happened at Craig Ramsey's place, it couldn't be right. What had he done to her?
Impulse pushed her forward so she half-ran towards the train station ahead. Melody could feel hot breath, pungent with the stench of death, upon the back of her neck. Tingles ran up and down her spine as adrenaline pumped harder. Images pushed their way from her thoughts to invade her consciousness.
The guard at the train station's gate said something. But his words echoed and warbled. Was she stumbling? Her fingers fumbled with her Pay-pass and almost dropped it. Still she sensed the thing behind her. Couldn't the guard see it?
At last, the gate opened, and Melody lunged through and hurried towards the train which was pulling into the station. Only as she reached the platform did she dare glance behind her. No one there. No dark predator. Just a guard with skinny, hairy arms and a bulbous stomach bulging over his belt and trousers, and staring at her with a befuddled expression. He shook his head, murmuring something she couldn't interpret, before returning to his office.
The carriage doors opened, and Melody stepped inside, feeling comforted by the crowd of late commuters. Before anyone noticed, she dodged her way towards an empty seat, plonked herself down and released a heavy sigh.
Ah! Comfort and relaxation.
Yes, Sirena. Rest. I'm coming for you tonight.