A Dagger of the Mind (Sequel to The Witching Hour)
Chapter 1
Art thou but a dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? - Wm Shakespeare
The gentle rock of the train lulled Alec into a light doze as they headed to London. Magnus however was wide awake and brooding as he watched the landscape flash by. The day was dark and overcast which matched his mood, and he sighed as he tightened his arm around Alec, the only source of warmth and comfort he could feel right now.
Magnus liked to live in the moment, he didn't worry about the future or agonize over the past, and yet here he was lost in thoughts of a period in his life he had worked very hard to forget….
It was the late summer of 1888, Magnus had been living in New York for eight years now and it felt like home. It was a vibrant, brash, new city, totally wrapped up in its self. A steady stream of clients found their way to the High Warlock's loft and Magnus made a good living. It had been years since he'd thought of London, but on this particular morning a fire message from Charlotte Branwell brought all the memories flooding back; memories of Will and Jem, Tessa and even Camille. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and he wasn't sure he wanted to go back to that haunted city. But Charlotte's note sounded urgent, and he still had a soft spot for the shadowhunters of the London Institute. Shaking his head, as a small smile played on his lips, he supposed he always would.
Magnus spent the remainder of the day arranging his affairs so he could leave for London the following morning. He wasn't sure what the urgent business was that Charlotte had alluded to, but he hoped it would not keep him in London for too long. After Magnus had seen his last client out and finished packing, he was still too restless to go to bed, despite the early morning he'd planned. Changing into evening clothes, a crisp white shirt and tie, cream silk brocade waistcoat under a black tailcoat and slim trousers. He grabbed his top hat and walking stick before leaving the loft to hail a Hansom cab.
A short while later, he arrived at the Haymarket; one of the most notorious dance halls in the Tenderloin, an area of New York that boasted the largest number of brothels, saloons and dance halls catering to all tastes in entertainment. The Haymarket was a large, brightly lit building, Magnus could hear the band playing and see crowds of people coming and going in various states of intoxication. He loved the life of this place; the music, the dancing, the gambling. Once inside he went to the bar and ordered a drink, as he moved to a vacant table he saw several downworlders among the crowd on the dance floor and smiled.
Suddenly his eye was caught by a young mundane boy, maybe eighteen years old, handsome, with bright blue eyes and dark hair. Magnus was captivated, but then, remembering he was leaving for London in the morning, he sighed and turned away. Two hours, and one bottle of good whiskey later, Magnus left the Haymarket and made his way back to the loft, for some much needed rest.
Early the next morning he opened a portal to the Institute arriving at 1:00 pm London time; Charlotte Branwell opened the door to admit him herself. She was a small woman, her thick brown hair swept up in a knot at the top of her head; bright brown eyes set in a clever face taking stock of him as he entered.
"You haven't changed a bit;" She said giving him a warm hug." Come on, let's get a cup of tea and we'll catch up;"
They entered a comfortable, slightly cluttered parlour where Magnus saw Charlotte's husband Henry playing with a small boy about seven years old. The boy had his father's ginger hair and his mother's dark eyes. Henry Branwell, confined now to a wheelchair, greeted Magnus with a nod, as a warm smile spread across his kind face. "Magnus good to see you!" He said carefully moving his chair close enough to grasp the warlock's hand in a firm handshake.
Charlotte directed them to a seating area in front of which an elaborate tea service had already been placed. As she poured out the tea and passed around the small, fancy sandwiches, Charlotte asked Magnus about New York and his life there. The conversation remained light, old friends catching up after a long separation, no mention was made of the pressing reason for his visit.
"Church is doing well," Magnus told Charlotte and Henry referring to the cat that had once lived at the London Institute; "Except that he scares my clients. He is staying at the New York Institute while I'm away. No one else was courageous enough to take care of him."
Henry, an inveterate inventor, told Magnus about perfecting his demon sensor, a device that he'd been struggling with for as long as Magnus had known him.
"I look forward to seeing it!" Magnus exclaimed. He had always been fascinated by Henry, who was unlike any shadowhunter he'd ever met before; his brilliant mind alive with all manner of marvelous ideas and new inventions.
At last with tea finished Charlotte looked at Magnus with regret in her troubled eyes. "I guess there is no point in putting this off any longer;" She said; "We will adjourn to my office."
Magnus rose to follow her out as Henry returned to playing with his son. Somehow he thought that Henry had the better end of this deal. Charlotte said nothing as they walked down the hallway. She seemed lost in thoughts of a very grim nature, and Magnus wondered, not for the first time, what could be so serious that she needed to bring him from New York.
Once they were settled in her office with the door firmly shut, Charlotte got right to the point. "I don't suppose you have heard about two recent murders in Whitechapel?"
Whatever Magnus had been expecting, this was not it. Murder in poorest districts of the East End London was not usually even news worthy. Overcrowding, poverty, crime and violence were a matter of course. Charlotte must have noticed the surprised look on his face because she continued quickly.
"I know what you are thinking there is nothing unusual about violence in the East End, but these killings are different and I'm afraid there might be demon involvement. Tessa and Will are in Wales expecting another baby and I am terribly short staffed at the Institute. I have a friend, an Ifrit who works for Scotland Yard. He was able to provide me with the details of these two murders. If this is the work of a demon, then we need to get involved, and the sooner the better. The newspapers have picked up on the sensational nature of these crimes and are stirring up a great deal of unrest."
Magnus opened the file she handed him. It took a lot to shock the warlock who had seen a great deal of cruelty and death in his long life, but this shocked him. The first victim a prostitute named Polly Nichols had been found on August 31st at 3:45 am in Buck's Row, a very bad part of the East End off Whitechapel road. Her throat had been cut from ear-to-ear almost decapitating her, and a long incision opened her abdomen exposing her internal organs. Polly was 42 years old, 5'2" tall and plump with a plain face. She was an alcoholic and earned a meager, precarious living by selling herself. What money she made went for drink and a bed at one of the many squalid, overcrowded doss houses that sheltered the poor at eight pennies a night.
The second victim, Annie Chapman was a 47 year old prostitute. Similar to Polly, she was an alcoholic who earned her living on the street. When she had the money she lived in a Spitalfields doss house on Dorset Street. Annie was 5' tall with brown curly hair and blue eyes. She was found dead at 5:55 am on September 8thin the yard of a lodging house at 29 Hanbury Street. Her throat had been cut so deeply that she'd nearly been decapitated, and her abdomen was slashed open. The intestines had been removed and thrown over her left shoulder; her uterus had been taken by the murderer.
Magnus looked up as he finished reading the gruesome reports. "I would like to say that this is the work of an mad mundane, and it may be, but it could also be that of a Reaper demon;" Magnus said with a shudder.
"A Reaper demon?" Charlotte asked.
"They are very rare and like the hellhound they are the special servants of Lucifer. The Reaper can take human form; it is immensely strong both in terms of physical strength and magic. It is Lucifer's assassin and its bloodlust is second to none. It would take a powerful warlock to summon a Reaper and an equally powerful warlock to send it back to hell." Magnus replied. "I would have to see the victims to know for sure and I presume they have both been buried by now?" He added.
"I'm afraid so;" Charlotte said.
"I'll stay in London for a while, if another murder occurs have your friend at Scotland Yard contact me, I'll be staying at Claridges." As Magnus rose to leave, he took Charlotte's hand; "Believe me Reaper demons are very tricky and dangerous to summon, even I would think twice about it; this is much more likely to be the work of a very clever madman."