Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(81)

“Don’t be crazy,” the old man said. “Why would the wicked ones be in danger? They’s already wicked.” He folded and unfolded his napkin. “Women are safe at home. They can be watched after, cared for. They don’t know what sort of sins await them in the world. The devil don’t want the bad ones, mister.

The devil wants to collect ’em before they turn wicked on their own. He needs

’em good. Otherwise, what’s there to corrupt?”



“And the demons? What do they want?”

“To take more souls to the devil. They want to please him so he doesn’t do his nasty tricks on them.”

“What sort of nasty tricks do you believe he’s doing?” I asked. “Aside from stealing them.”

“What else?” Mr. Cigrande shifted in his seat, facing me. “He brings them to his castle in Hell and they never return.”

Noah sent Mr. Cigrande home with promises to call on him the moment he discovered any news of his missing daughter. Thomas and I climbed into our carriage, and while we waited for our friend to join us, Thomas arranged the heating brick so I could rest my leg upon it.

“Well? What do you make of the demon?” I asked, stifling a moan. The heat felt lovely.

He settled the blanket around us, then stared out at the sidewalk. I followed his gaze, noticing swirls in the light dusting of snow that reminded me of serpents slithering through it.

“He saw a man with blue eyes talk to a woman on the street,” Thomas said.

“That much I believe is fact. The issue I’m struggling with is his claim of seeing the same man with another woman, doing the same act.”

“Do you think it’s a fabrication?”

“No. His behavior was quite easy to read. Weren’t you observing…” Thomas shook his head at my scowl. “Apologies, Wadsworth. What I mean is, when I asked about the demon’s acts, Mr. Cigrande was able to give them without moving about. When asked about the devil or his desires, he had to think. To make up his own idea of what Satan might be after. It wasn’t information he’d seen firsthand. I couldn’t deduce if he’d truly witnessed the same man luring another woman away, or if he’d replayed it in his mind so often he confused the facts.”

“Let’s argue the facts, then,” I suggested. “If what he claims is correct, how will that assist in us finding the man he claims is the demon?”

Noah rushed back to the carriage, clapping his hands for warmth. “Sorry.

What do you think?”

“We were just trying to figure that out now,” I said. “It’s something.”

The carriage driver snapped his reins, urging the horses into a trot.

“If he can recall where he saw the man abduct that first woman”—Thomas braced himself against the jostling of our ride—“you ought to sit nearby and wait. See if the kidnapper’s brazen enough to return. He may or may not be telling the truth about the demon revisiting the site. It’s worth investigating at the very least.”

Noah flashed a skeptical look, his mouth pinched tight. “I don’t see how anyone would be foolish enough to commit the same act twice in the same location.”

“It’s part of his fun,” Thomas said. “The hunt is thrilling, but so is the idea of potentially getting caught. This man is besotted with the unknown. It’s dangerous. Tantalizing. It makes his heart pound and his loins ache with desire.”

I scrunched my nose, not wanting to think of anyone’s loins, aching or otherwise. Silence filled our carriage, broken up by the clomping of hooves on cobblestones. I turned the events of this new mystery over in my mind, working out all the oddities. As much as I loathed to think such a thing, if we had a body to study I’d feel more confident in my own theories.

“Do you believe he’s holding them captive?” I asked, already dreading the answer I knew was coming.

Thomas dropped his gaze to mine. “Perhaps for a time.”

“So?” Noah asked. “What does he do next? Let them go?”

“He murders them.” Thomas didn’t notice the color leach from our friend’s face. Or if he did, he paid it no mind. There was no such thing as delicacy when it came to murder. “I’m sorry to say, my friend, but this is a career murderer. It’s likely no simple missing persons case.”

I looked at Thomas, searching his expression for anything he wasn’t saying.

When he met my gaze, my stomach dropped. This career murderer was undoubtedly the same one we sought.

Poor Noah was unaware he was now tracking the most notorious killer of our time.





THIRTY-FIVE

DARK CREATURES

GRANDMAMA’S ESTATE

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS





12 FEBRUARY 1889


It seemed a terrible contrast to be so cozy and snug while reading about missing women who were probably dead. I stared down at my notes, nearly going cross-eyed trying to find a substantial clue that might link our case to Noah’s. The missing women were of ages ranging from nineteen to thirty. Hair color and build varied as much as their backgrounds. The only connection they seemed to share was that they all up and vanished one day, never to be heard from again.

I hadn’t realized I’d pressed my nib so hard until ink splattered across the page. I glanced up sheepishly, but Thomas seemed more worried than amused.