The Ripper

William Jack Holloway

There had been that itch again.

Will truly did try to ignore it. He didn't enjoy hunting out the supernaturals that his body seemed drawn to like magnets. He could feel them in every movement he made. His lungs seemed to ache when he took a breath, as though the air was poisoned with their very existence. He wouldn't act on it. Wouldn't go out. He didn't want to draw attention to himself here. He didn't want the Council on to him, didn't want them throwing yet another tutor at him in order to get a control on the power that he would not use ever again.

Sitting in his hotel room had done nothing for him but cause more of that restlessness that seemed to tug at his soul. So, rather than think about how much he wanted to resist the seemingly natural urge - he was sure that someone of his station should not have the urge to murder - he'd merely dressed for the evening and had set off to explore the new city that he had found himself in. So far, he'd come to the conclusion that there was nothing even remotely positive about the city. It was the same bland modern architecture that he'd grown to detest, save for a few neighborhoods of the Victorian style that made him ache for home.

Still, wandering the city was certainly better than nothing, was it not? The man was most certainly assured that it would be. He'd already checked out the Northern bits of the city where his hotel was. He was assured that that part of the city would not suffice, and that alone had been the reason that he'd ventured further into the city. The Eastern districts proved just about the same as the North, and yet somehow it was better. There were more people here. More shops. More things to distract his mind with.

He'd hardly paid attention as he'd pressed the button on the crosswalk. He'd been around as the things had been installed in whatever city he'd been in at the time. He remembered hating them. He hated the cars that whizzed by without a care. There was no sense of adventure in a car, after all. He'd grown up on the London streets, meandering in the middle of the night to the next great thing that he would see with his companion. He could still remember the hours that he had spent out with nothing better to do, hardly caring that the Duke's son should not be out galavanting around in the middle of the night. There was none of that now. Everyone was always in such a rush.

He was internally grumbling about this to himself as he crossed the street. In fact, the Hunter hardly noticed the way another man fell into step beside him. The twinging he felt was only normal. He felt it so often within the city, that static like feeling that told him that a supernatural was near. In fact, he hardly gave any attention to the man that seemed to match his stride until the word 'peasant' slipped from the other man's lips.

It was that word alone - a word that Will had certainly never had applied to his own form before - that saw the man halting his step and actually looking at the source of this blasphemous error. The slight form and pointed ears were enough to give way to the faerie blood of the man, and with that Will let out an audible exhale. Faeries he could deal with. Vampires? Vampires he wanted to murder most horrifically.

"I'll have you know that I am not a peasant, I am..." The accented words faltered on his lips as he watched the faerie visibly squirm, as though he'd just now realized that perhaps it was not the wisest thing to antagonize a rogue Hunter on the street. Fortunately for the faerie, he supposed, Will had no quarrels with his species. "I am the Duke of..."

Again, Will's voice was cut off as his eyes fell entirely on the neck of the man that stood in front of him.

"Sir, were you attacked?"

But darling -- it's only human nature.