Cruel and Unusual - serialised novel EXCLUSIVE to Steemit - Final Episode

This is the final episode of Cruel and Unusual. The journey of Jack The Ripper ends here.

Believe it or not, this is just ONE explanation of his fate – and it is, in my opinion, equally plausible to some of the theories I’ve read.

I enjoyed leading you through the twists and turns of Whitechapel back in the Victorian era and I hope you’ve enjoyed coming along with me.

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In case you’ve missed it, the link to how I came to write about Jack The Ripper is here:

An insight into my novel Cruel and Unusual

Here are the links to catch-up, read again or start from the beginning

Episode List From 1 – 52
Then: 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80
81 82 83

Images below from Google, Getty Images, and Pixabay

Please read the start of the story using the link above. I promise, it’s well-worth the time to check it all out. At least then, this excerpt will make more sense

We left Jack strapped to a gurney in full view of an audience made up entirely of lethal mythical creatures – and one human. He has a secret to tell and he is about to blurt out Red/Hazel’s innermost secrets…

“You are a Werewolf!” he yelled at the top of his ancient lungs. “You slaughter people and eat their flesh! I killed Keme because he stole my love but you eat people!”

The outburst dissolved into a maniacal laughter, cracked and high-pitched and it saddened Red.

The tirade sent a shock-wave through the audience, none had ever heard him speak before, he seemed to have saved his conversations for when he and Anton were alone.

Victoria and Oscar were bemused at the show but remained silent as they watched, glancing at each other in mutual wonder.

Anton placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder to let him know that he was there.

“Yes, Jack, Red is a Werewolf, so am I and so are you, remember?”

“Red? That is not her name!” he became agitated and began to strain against the straps which held him.

“Her name is Hazel; she is a friend of Keme. I killed him, I killed them all, dirty, filthy streetwalkers. I killed them and I ate their juicy bits!”

Saliva drooled from his slack lips and in another instant, his tone became maudlin and he whined like a kicked dog.

“Why can’t I be a wolf, Anton? I ate them, I did, and it’s not fair you know. I did everything that I was taught.”

He seemed to become calm again until he had given himself a moment to think and he unleashed a fury that such an old and decrepit body should not have been able to contain, let alone set free.

“I did everything that I was taught! I did as I was told! I ATE THEIR GLANDS!” he raged through his insanity and Anton was at a loss.

“He has never behaved this way. I shall have to sedate him if he does not calm down.”

Jack was thrashing so hard on the gurney that it was bouncing and if hands were not holding it, it would have overturned. He was repeating the phrase “I ate their glands!” over and over in a mantra.

And as sudden as it started, it finished. Red was not alone in the thought that Jack had suffered a heart-attack but it could not be possible, his Wolfen heart was too strong, even though it was old and had never been given the proper sustenance to maintain it in peak condition as other Wolves had.

Jack turned his head for the first time and acknowledged the crowd.

He smiled then, a more normal and sane smile and he said in a voice that was old but clear: “I am sorry that I killed Keme. He was strong and young and so very brave. I should have liked to have been his friend. I should have liked to wear his pelt and have run with you, Hazel. I used to dream that I ran alongside you and your pack. Anton was there, I recognised him. Keme and Almyra and Marcellus were all there. I did so want to be a Wolf; my mother would have been so happy. Do it, Anton, I deserve the punishment. I skinned Keme and it hurt him but he didn’t make a sound, but I heard him howl in his mind, I felt it all through him. I know secrets, Hazel, I know your secrets. I know that you killed Marcellus’s brother and his father, I know because Anton knows. I know many, many things about you that you don’t know yet. Anton keeps secrets from you.”

And Jack turned his head away from her and began another mantra in a sing-song voice. “I know a secret, I know a secret.”

“Let’s finish this.” Red nodded to Anton that he should begin.

Perhaps it would have been easier on Mingan if the operation had been upon a wolf form but he held up to the demonstration of utter and ultimate revenge.

He had never met his grandfather Keme, neither had his father met him, but he was proud to be descended from such a legend and he understood the symbolism of the punishment that was being meted out before his eyes. He did not quite understand why there were so many witnessing the punishment, but he realised that with the right questions, he would know all that he wanted to know – and perhaps a little more than he should.

When he returned to his tribe, he would be better able to decide which part of the story he would re-tell in exact detail and which part would be glossed over, for to embellish this would take a better imagination than even he possessed.

As the old one was skinned, he did not move, nor make a sound, for he had been paralysed by a concoction of drugs – Anton knew his craft and worked it to perfection. Unlike when Jack had flayed Keme, Jack was still alive at the end of the operation, due to Anton’s skill and patience over Jack’s excitement and eagerness to possess a pelt that could transform him into a magnificent beast.

Mingan had been asked prior to the ceremony if he would be able to perform the death blow and Mingan knew that he could.

At the appointed moment, Mingan stood and walked to the head of the flayed body of the one that had slaughtered his ancestor. It was not with hate that Mingan lifted the large ceremonial dagger that he had brought with him across the ocean, but with pride in his heritage and the legend which was Keme.

With both hands, Mingan lifted the dagger above his head and he looked into the eyes of the man that had killed his grandfather.

“Keme manidog!” Mingan said as he brought down the dagger to slice through the raw flesh and brittle bones into the still strong heart of the Throwback-turned-Wolf.

Mingan left the dagger in Jack’s chest and it sizzled and smoked for a moment as the silver blade did its job.

“You brought a silver dagger? Who told you?” Anton asked.

Mingan looked into Anton’s eyes for a moment, taking in the aeons of knowing that Anton possessed.

“It has always been known that silver kills Wolf spirits, Anton. My grandfather’s spear was silver and we have known since before you came to us that we can protect ourselves from evil manidog – or spirits – with this metal and only this metal. You are wise, Anton-Pahana but we also have wisdom and with all respect to you, I was not about to come into the company of Werewolves without a little of my own wisdom.”

Anton seemed to be astounded at first and asked, “Have your tribe always been wary of me? Have you always known what I am?”

Mingan gave him a look which told Anton that he was being ridiculous, without a word from Mingan’s mouth. Red laughed and Anton scowled.

Victoria approached then to greet the old Obijawe Shaman and she was respectful and courteous, as was Oscar.

Red decided that perhaps she would extend her stay in order that she could hear some of Mingan’s stories and indeed, some of Anton’s.

There was also one other story that she thought she may like to hear about, one that concerned her, because it involved her directly and she would have never have known about it if Jack the Ripper had not told her of it.