Okay, this murder mystery has a lot of clues around it, all through it, because it’s based on a REAL CASE.  See if you can see if you know who it’s about before the end.  If you do, let me know.

Chapter 1:

First Case

As Aaron approached the morgue with his partner, he had to stop for a moment.  He never could get used to that stench, that smell of death and decay.  But the autopsy doctor had called them in on this one.  Or, rather, they’d been assigned this one.

He really wasn’t sure why.  She was likely of no importance, a hooker found dead in an alleyway on the east end.  Yes, it was sad that many prostitutes had to resort to this line of work, mostly because they needed a place to sleep and food to eat.

As they entered, the smell threatened to overwhelm him again.  How people worked and lived in these areas he never knew.  He just knew they did.

And, as they saw the body, they knew why the captain called them in.  It was obvious, from even a cursory look.

Her head was almost completely severed by her neck.  Her abdomen gaped open, and not by the careful use of an autopsy specialist.  The savagery was so obvious.

Not just a typical slaying, a butchering.

Notes were taken, questions answered, but Aaron could not get the image of the dead woman’s body out of his head.  Even as he tried to sleep, she begged him for help, begged him, through severed windpipe, to find the animal that did this to her.

He knew he’d likely never sleep easy again, but two other things occurred to him.  First, that the person that did this had some kind of awful hatred of this woman, one that would never be forgotten.  Second, if they solved it, they’d likely move up.

Capter 2:

The Second Slaying

5 days later, the second victim was reported.  Even though protocols for crime scenes were set, so many couldn’t help but be curious about this one.  Aaron expected the same savagery as the first, but, with this one, another woman that was locally known as a prostitute, it went much further.

Aaron arrived at the site, seeing so many gawkers, so many who wanted to see the spectacle for themselves.

The papers had, as usual, sensationalized the first victim, describing the savagery as something far, far more.  There were some accuracies, but many just made up for the spectacle.

So Aaron wasn’t surprised at the turnout of the second victim.

But, this time, instead of just slashing her abdomen open, her insides laid beside her body.  It was like the killer was trying to send a message, one of fear, one of humiliation.  Aaron thought about it as they carried the body away, wondering if the killer had any semblance of a conscience or if he was even human at all.

As the time for the autopsy was elapsing, the letters started to arrive.  Each one, written in graphic prose, declared the writer as the true killer.  Aaron knew better.

The kind of sensationalism these two slayings brought up often brought out those who only wanted to be a part of the story, some seeking attention but not anymore guilty then Aaron was.

The report of the autopsy came in.  Noting the same cruelty as the first victim, only escalated, one other odd item was noted.  There was one organ, one that was uniquely female, the killer removed.  There was no trace of it at all.

So not only was this monster deciding to target those ladies compelled to sell themselves to survive, he was now targeting the one thing that, he knew, denoted the biggest difference between men and women.

The unterus, that place where new life was formed, the seed of every human being, had been removed.

At that revelation, he had to seek guidance somewhere else.  The sheer brutality of these two killings…no, not killings…butcherings left his mind in shambles.  And, when it was in shambles, he turned to his church.

As he entered the chapel, Priest Sebastian, the Vicar of that chapel, recognized him. “Ah, brother Aaron, what brings you here tonight?”

As he invited the detective to sit, Aaron laid it all out, every detail.  He admitted to being stumped, but, as he was talking, Sebastian sat back, his hands together, just carefully listening.  At the conclusion of his story, the Vicar leaned back. “These victims, they’re the ladies that sell themselves for money?”

Aaron nodded. “Yes, both of them.”

He leaned forward again. “And yet there are more of these ladies?”

Aaron considered that. “What about it?”

He paused, putting a finger beneath his chin. “Perhaps whatever is doing this is under the impression it’s cleaning up the streets.  But, yes, I know.  They’re still children of God.  I won’t deny that of them.  I’ll pray for them.”

It was only later, as he headed home, that Aaron realized the priest used unusual terms to describe the killer.

Chapter 3:

Stalking

He crept along, drinking in the anxiety.  So much fear was palpable, so much for him to thrive in.  He knew his mission, his purpose, but he couldn’t help but relish in the dread that pulsed from every female he passed.

How long he dwelled among them none of them would ever know.  What they knew, now, was that he was there, one of them in appearance only.

He saw a potential target, leading a well-dressed man into an alley for the purpose of him paying her for her service.  Careless, arrogant, thoughtless.  He waited until the transaction was complete, the man pulling his pants up.

They always felt more vulnerable in this state, the state he liked them in.  Her guard was down, not paying any attention to what was around her, only going towards a nearby rain barrel to cleanse herself.

And that’s when he struck.

The blade, if that’s what it could properly be called, sank deep as her terror fed him.  The panic, the sheer volume of horror, knowing that she was now his prey.  He drank it in full as the blade crossed her neck, blood pulsing all around as her body fell.

Working fast, he began his incision until another voice called out.

Like a flash, he vanished.  His mission was clear, nobody must witness him.  The individual that saw him would never remember seeing him, he knew, knowing that was the way of those that were his kin.  But his thirst had not been slaked.

He found another, not far away, again in that vulnerable position as he descended on her.  There was no doubt, this time, no interruption.  He sliced her up like before, his malice drinking in the magnificent agony he’d caused, the wonderful dread, knowing, as he finished removing the token of womanhood from her body, nobody would ever recognize who he was or even know his kind.

A reflection in the pool of blood around the woman caught his eye, he looked in….

….Aaron’s eyes snapped open as the door was knocking.  He looked around, recognizing his own apartment as he struggled for his pants before going to answer the door.  Even as he did so, somehow, he knew.

Confirmed, two more murders by this mysterious and vicious killer.

Aaron had no idea why he’d seen these killings, he had seen them as they went down.  But how would he report it?  There were no other witnesses to it, just himself.

But as he remembered the dream, so clearly, he felt the blackness.  Not black as in shadow or absence of light, but black as if it was physically inside him as he performed these rituals, as if the black, itself, was light.

With four victims, he awaited the autopsies, knowing full well what they’d say.

Chapter 4:

Suspicions

In the weeks that followed, Aaron barely slept.  He knew that, if he did, he might see the next victim being slaughtered.  The images of the blood and entrails, and of the near decapitations, haunted him.  He could still feel his hand, holding the wicked blade, carving up those women’s bodies like a butcher.

The fact was not lost on him that they were investigating butchers in the east side of town now.  Most of the ones he talked to, however, had alibis.  Other suspects came in, especially with the deluge of mail they’d received.

So many claiming they were the killer, each one seemingly more demented than the last, each one exclaiming how wonderful it was, doing what the killer was doing.

There was even a badly spelled graffiti mark some of the civilians tried associating with the killer, although it was a spurious clue at best.

Some signed pseudonyms to it, including one that would catch on as the name reported in the media.  It seemed so fitting, so appropriate, but those who were investigating knew that name wasn’t coined by the real killer.  It never could’ve been.

There was even a delivery of a part of an organ, with a note exclaiming that the killer ate the rest, but that was quickly dismissed as being a sick prank.  The organ in question had never been removed from any of the four victims.  Whoever it was simply had a twisted mind and obsession with trying to get into the case.

Actors, merchants, even doctors were questioned, even those who lived way out of town who seemed to come in on occasion.  When they’d seen a man stalking around the kill sites, they questioned him, only to find out he was an artist, trying to find a muse.  Knowing that, he was quickly eliminated.

Meanwhile, Aaron kept wondering.  He kept trying to stay awake, sleeping only as much as he needed to try and avoid the dreams again.

Eventually, he couldn’t handle it and, as he worked late, he dropped off at his desk….

…The house seemed almost quaint, not a large house, but one where the woman who ran her business in could find security and, maybe, even safety.  He grinned at the irony.  No person could be safe from his mission, not one.  But, for her, it would be different, a part of the message he was there to send, a part that would not be ignored anymore.

As he found his way into the house, the woman screamed…

…Aaron jerked awake.  He wouldn’t do anything like that, not even close.  But he alerted the others, knowing where it was, but dreading the sight once they got there, a sight that would live with him forever.

Chapter 5

Revelations

Aaron honestly felt more sick than at any other crime scene.  This woman, another one who pleasured men for money, wasn’t in one place in the house.  Parts of her were all over the room, parts laid everywhere.  And the smell assaulted his nose constantly.

But he had a job to do, as thoroughly unpleasant as he found it, especially in this case.  He had to document it all, even as he excused himself, multiple times, to wretch.

Nobody would’ve seen this, nobody.

He pitied the coroner, knowing that it would be easier to use a spatula to collect what was left of the body.  The killer went so far beyond just butchering this woman, he destroyed her.  The only tentative ID they had was from the landlord that rented her the house, but nothing much else.  Everything that could help was going to take a long, long time to find.

He saw something in one of the corners, drawn in the blood of this victim.  A marking, something that seemed to tick away at his brain, turning over and over in his head.  It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t place it.

The dream had been so real, so accurate.  Even what was left of the face was the woman he’d dreamed of.

Was he cursed?  Was he the killer?

With those questions in mind, he headed towards the church.  Certainly, Vicar Sebastian would have the answer.

It was when he approached the church that the symbol popped into view, the same symbol, at the front of the church.  As he stopped, wondering about it, trying to figure it out, Sebastian approached him, greeting him.  As he explained the reason for his visit, the vicar invited him back to the office, but, instead of going to the other side of the desk, the priest walked to the side, sliding a sconce to the side. “Have you noticed, Aaron, how much wickedness keeps going?  Everywhere you look, there are those women who sell themselves for the pleasures of others.”

Aaron watched the hidden door open.  Sebastian invited Aaron to follow him. “Someone needs to send a message, a message of fear, of pure terror, one that would show not only this city but the world how much the wickedness that is so heavy in the world needs to be corrected.”

Aaron thought, for a moment, that he’d agree, but there was a problem. “Sebastian, it’s not our place to demand the repentance of others.  Sometimes, as you know, these women need to do what they do in order to survive.  It’s cruel, but it would be best to help them as we can.”

Sebastian turned as they descended the stairs. “That cruelty needs to be stamped out, destroyed.  It needs to be declared across the world.”

Aaron thought he knew Sebastian, following him as he went down a short hall to a locked door. “Don’t tell me you’re the one who’s doing this?”

Sebastian laughed. “Me?  No.  As part of my calling, I cannot commit acts of violence, but here are loopholes.”

As he unlocked the door, the odor overwhelmed Aaron.  It wasn’t just rot, not just sewage.  It combined both with an air of sulfur.  Sebastian drew something out of his cloak and stepped inside.

Aaron followed, stopping as he saw what was kept in there.  To say it fit only in nightmares was to greatly understate the case.  The creature, or whatever it was, sat in the corner, watching as the two men walked in.  It measured taller than either of them, more broadly muscled, with skin that varied between blue to red to charcoal black, seemingly shimmering between the colors.  The head held more terror, a huge maw with gaping teeth, large eyes, only slits for a nose.

It didn’t regard them with fear or apprehension.  Aaron got the sensation it was just waiting.  Sebastian held the object between them and the thing. “I learned of the rite only a few months ago, a way to call forth a denizen of the devil, a way to get the message across I wanted to send, with a being not afraid to slaughter women who measure up to exactly what I tell it to.”

Aaron drew his gun.  He couldn’t understand the confession, his friend, his confidant, his spiritual leader being complicit in 5 murders. “I knew I had to link you two when you were last here.  I had to in order to keep the direction we needed to go.”

As Aaron drew the hammer back, he demanded only one thing. “You’re coming with me.”

Sebastian turned, his face an inscrutable mask of defiance and anger. “Now that you know, I have no choice but to….”

The crack sounded, the totem that controlled the demon shattered and blood bloomed on Sebastian’s chest.  As his body fell and lay still, after a moment, the creature moved forward, not quite walking, not quite gliding, but definitely moving.  As it reached Sebastian, it stretched a hand out to its prisoner.

It looked up, at Aaron, with yellow eyes and red pupils, speaking in a voice that dripped with venom, poison and acid with only a hoarse whisper. “You have freed me.  Only the totem could control me and send me back.  Now I can do as I wish, possess who I wish.”

In an acrid puff of smoke, it vanished.

Chapter 6:

Resolution

As Aaron approached the door to Scotland Yard, he knew.  He could never reveal what he knew, now.  In that day, the priests were thought of as pillars of virtue.

Nobody would believe that one, in a zealot-like quest, summoned what he did and made it kill in atrocious ways.  Aaron knew that it would likely strike again, harvesting souls of those who are twisted, those who have the psychopathy to end lives.  How many more would be slain because of the actions of Sebastian?

Aaron had no idea.  All he new was that, in that year, 1888, the city of London was in the grip of a nightmare.  But nobody would guess it was something from the depths of hell.  There would be speculations, suspects brought up from all over, some maybe not even in London at the time.

The suspects would include people, regular people, who had some strange habits.  But nobody would believe it was supposed to be a message, etched in fear and blood, to try and call the city and, by extension, the world, to repentance.  All they would know is that Sebastian would disappear into history.  The one responsible for it, Sebastian, would never be connected.

It would only be remembered…as Jack.