Prologue
London, 1870
It was one of those nights that were feared by most clear-thinking people; the clouds coated the hell-hole of a sky, and a heavy mist hung about the streets like a child in distress. Most people were safe inside their homes, so there was little noise or life. The only sorts of any living beings were animals, drunks and the odd prostitute. That night, there was one of them on the streets, coming back from where she was 'needed'. She was walking through the back alleys, as she knew that this was quicker and supposedly safer than having an encounter with a drunk.
It was cold. She wrapped her shawl around her arms tighter, and hurried along. It was one of those sort of cold that made her wonder if it would snow. To add to the chill, the air was deadly silent. She just hoped that she was lucky enough to be returning safely. She soon came to the alley behind her home. 'At last', she thought.
"Excuse me, Miss…" came a rough voice from behind her.
She was about to unlock her door, but she decided to be polite and see what the voice wanted. She could tell from its tone that it was a male. She smiled sweetly, turning her head to face him. As she was about to ask what he wanted, he grabbed her by the throat, forcing her against the brick wall. She gasped for air whilst trying to scream for help. It was no use; all that came out was a wheeze. When she had calmed down, knowing that no one would hear her, she stopped thrashing. Instead, she just watched him. He was dressed in a black trench coat, and he wore a black hat that covered his eyes with shadow. When she did catch a glimpse of them, he saw two blue, icy, eyes. The next thing that she knew, he was taking something out of his pocket. She looked up from his pocket to his face; his maniac's grin. She was confused. Everything seemed to be happening so fast.
He held the item up to her. It was a silver-colored object. On closer inspection, it turned out to be his hand with razor sharp claws! The claws shone in the dim light of a far-off street lamp. Her eyes lit up with fear. He could see that, smiling, as he quickly plunged the claws into her slender throat and slit the remainder of her neck, making a straight, yet very bloody, cut. The blood streamed from the wound like an ocean tide.
He let go of her with a jerk of his arm. She dropped to the street, dead. This was yet another addition to the beast's collection. He left as quickly and as calmly as he had appeared.