TITLE: The Case Of The Red Goddess
AUTHOR: Talepiece
RATING: 15 cert.
PAIRING: Vastra/Jenny
SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra
CONTINUITY: This is the second story in Volume Two of the Vastra/Jenny series and follows on immediately from the previous story, The Case Of The Lost Sibling.
SUMMARY: Now investigating the horrific demise of Miss Ellen Hawthorne, Vastra and Jenny discover a mysterious temple beneath the streets of London.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, please don't sue me
CREDITS: This story is shamelessly, er, borrowed from the Victoriana supplement The Rise Of The Red God (spoilers, Sweetie).
NOTES: There may be delays to the posting of the next story or two but they are on the way.
POSTED: March 2014


With the shocking discovery of the demise of poor Ellen Hawthorne, Madame Vastra and Jenny Flint found themselves investigating not the disappearance of a much loved sibling but the rise of evil beneath the very streets of London.

Jennifer Strax Vastra-Flint
London, 1949


Vastra and Jenny stared in horror as the red mass drifted closer to the river bank. A few brave souls were still wading out into the cold, filthy water of the Thames, two of them stout uniformed officers and one their own Detective Constable Fletch. Jenny felt absurdly proud of the young man for a moment and then the horror hit her anew and she stared again at the once-pretty face that bobbed in the water below them.

Two of the women that Jenny had noticed before were also in the water, their plentiful but shapeless rags hitched up about their knees, exposing dirt stained flesh around which the edges of the red tide lapped.

Vastra leaned into Jenny and said, "My dear, who are those women?"

"Tide-waitresses, Madame," Jenny said without looking up, "Women who work the river. Ain't a job I'd want," she added, finally glancing at her friend, "but they survive on it."

"It may serve us to speak with one of these women."

"Aye, it would. And our friend down there might have something to say too. Come on."

Jenny once more grabbed at Vastra's arm and lead them through the thin group of people to a spot closer to the commotion below. They watched as the men and women used boat hooks and sticks to draw in the mass, shying away even as it came closer.

Eventually, the horror washed up on to the banks of the river and settled in stinking piles along the edge of the Thames. It twisted and shifted with the tide and still the undead eyes stared up at those who dared look upon them.

Vastra pushed herself away from the railing and hurried down the slippery steps to the water's edge. She hitched her own skirts up in careless bunches but thought nothing of the damage that the filth of the Thames might do to her expensive footwear. Jenny thought of it for a moment but set the thought aside just as quickly when they stepped on to the shifting banks and sloshed towards Fletch.

"Constable," Jenny said, though more from habit than teasing.

The young man looked up, appeared surprised and about to warn them away before he remembered to whom he was speaking and simply nodded a tense greeting. His eyes followed Jenny's down to the collection of body parts that stirred around his feet and he swallowed hard.

Vastra watched the young man for a moment more, taking in the deep green hue of his skin and wondering if there might be a little Silurian blood in his veins. She braced herself against the overwhelming horror and bent down to study the nearest corpse. It shifted as she did so and Vastra was pleased that the veil covered her reactions.

"Steady there, m'lady," one of the women said from beside her.

"I thank you for your concern, Miss...?"

"Ada, m'lady, I work this bit o'water."

Jenny squatted down beside Vastra, not expecting to keep her coat clean but still awkwardly attempting to lift it out of harms way. She studied Vastra as Vastra studied the fist that jutted out from the red mass.

The fist was clenched tight, the nails digging into the flesh of the palm. Vastra considered that flesh; deep gashes staining the skin that itself had a strange golden hue. She eased the edge of her veil up a little, feeling Jenny close in beside her to block any prying eyes, and allowed the tip of her tongue to dart out mere inches.

The stench of blood and filth almost knocked her backwards but she rallied, Jenny's hand coming to her back to hold on for a moment before Vastra regained her balance and settled into the uncomfortable pose once more. She tried again, this time set firm against the assault on her senses.

Beneath the smell of the river itself and the human blood that washed around them, there were other, more subtle odours. Wine, Vastra thought with a start, wine and oils. Something else too, though she could not identify it.

Vastra reached out and grabbed at the hand, trying not to think of their last encounter with such a severed limb. There was a muted gasp from behind her and then the air stilled as she reached with her other hand, took a good grip on the flesh and pulled it free from the dense mass around it.

With the fist gripped firm in Vastra's gloved hands, the wrist and lower arm swung below. No blood dripped from the exposed wound, though tendrils of flesh and thin strips of skin waved loose and brushed over the silt of the river's edge. The flesh was stippery and Vastra had to adjust her fingers to keep a firm hold on it.

She shifted her grip again and took hold of the lower arm with one hand while wrapping her fingers around those of the appendage in her grasp. She pried open the fingers until they fell back limp as if some faint echo of life had finally been extinguished.

Something fell from the fist, tumbling to the shifting ground. Jenny's hand darted out and grabbed for them before they were lost. She scrambled in the silt, gloved fingers plucking out the items before she presented them to Vastra in the palm of her open hand.

"'Ere," Ada said behind them, "she'd make a fine Gleaner, this'un."

There were three small items, little more than two inches around, each dulled by a thick coating of river grime and blood. Jenny played them around in her palm before selecting one and rubbing it clean on one of the few patches of her coat's hem that wasn't caked in muck.

Beneath the filth it had a lovely red colour, the stone seeming to shine from within. Jenny held it up to Vastra, moving her hand a little to have the winter sun catch it. The small amulet was marked with a deeper red pattern that resembled a beatle.

"A scarab, Madame."

"Indeed, my dear."

"And these," Jenny said, using the amulet to indicated the strips of what had appeared to be skin hanging from the severed arm, "These are bits of cloth."

"Cloth?" Fletch said over her shoulder.

"Then this is a great deal more than mass murder," Vastra said.

"I should say," Jenny hissed, "These poor bugger's have been mummifed."