Hey guys! I'm putting up chapter 9 early, before they air the next episode. This is the one where you get to see a glimpse of what Lucien helped turn K into when they met. Just fyi, her personality is a complete 180 from normal. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Chapter 9

July 23, 1888

London, England

K walked through the cobblestone streets without guide. Her feet fell limply against the stone as she wove through the sick, poor and unwashed masses that littered the area. Her nose burned with the smell of stink and coal, but all of it held little of her attention. She'd been banished from the Bennett household for the foreseeable future. Elizabeth –Emily's daughter- still hadn't forgiven K for her mother's death and as a result, she forbade K from being around her family. The pain from Emily's death was still too new for Elizabeth, even twenty years later, and the wounds were only opened more every time she saw the vampire.

Elizabeth had a daughter in 1884. K remained just long enough –in the background of course- until Elizabeth and her child were healthy and safe again. Elizabeth only wanted K around until she was healthy enough to defend her family herself before sending the vampire away. She told K she wanted her as far away as possible and if K was ever seen lurking in the shadows as she tended to, Elizabeth would curse her until she complied.

The argument between them had been a great deal more heated than that. Elizabeth slung insults and even used her magic on K out of rage. She blamed her, told her she was all manner of horrible things before giving her the warning to leave. The rage in the young woman's heart was inescapable no matter where K went in the country, so she decided to leave it entirely. She sent word of her address when she arrived, but received nothing in response. That was no surprise, but it still hurt.

K still swam in her guilt and self-loathing despite the move and it seemed all consuming. No matter how she tried to rationalize that Emily hadn't been her fault, it did nothing to swage her. In fact, the more she relived that moment and the ones since, the more K's anger began to fester and blacken. The more she began to hate everything and everyone and it frightened her. K needed someone to pull her out of the darkness she felt or she'd never escape it, but the ones who could were gone.

~!~

August 7th, 1888

A few weeks had passed since K began to call London her home and her anger hadn't subsided in the least. The change of scenery did nothing more than anger her further. In fact, she began to hate London and the people in it more than she thought possible. Her heart was becoming twisted and shriveling the longer she remained, but as though she felt she deserved the Hell she found herself in, K remained in the city.

Her hunting patterns had grown violent in the passed couple of weeks as well. In that moment she was able to release her growing ire. She was able to use her victim as a substitute for the ones she had grown to lament. As horrible as it was, every man K crossed took the place of those who burned Emily alive and women became Katherine, the bitch who left Emily behind to die. She hadn't turned her humanity off, but she knew it was dwindling and unlikely to come back anytime soon without some kind of shift.

She'd taken to the East Side of London where impoverish dwelled to hunt. They were the easy ones to eat, the ones that wouldn't be missed when she inevitably lost control and the ones who –in the end- contributed nothing to society.

The sun had long since set and the streets were still busy. Prostitutes lined the sidewalk calling to men for a moment of their time, a party or something fun for a minute while men scuttled about. Some went with the women; others lingered in the shadows because they owned the prostitutes and couldn't let them out of their sights, while others stumbled drunk.

K's nose turned up as she watched it. Disgusting. Humans had become disgusting to her in only a few short weeks.

As she turned down Wentworth Street, K felt the air behind her shift. She paused in step and simply waited.

"Well, well, well," a slimy, thickly accented voice chimed from behind. K turned leisurely in her spot to see two men behind her. "What 'ave we got 'ere?"

The short one –the one who spoke- looked like some kind of troll. His cap was slung low on his head, filled with grease and debris. His skin was blotched with dirt, oil and possible disease. Scruff dotted his cheeks and when he smiled he bore only a few rotted teeth. His clothes faired no better in comparison. His linen slacks were ripped and dirty, his gloves –sans fingers- were caked in mud and all other manner of thing and his jacket looked as though he'd stolen it from another vagrant.

"Pre'y lady like yo'self shouldn't be walkin' 'round 'ere all by your lonesome." He said as he took steps closer. "Ain't safe."

"Yeah."

Her eyes drifted to the taller of the two. His wardrobe faired no better than his friend's but it was without the holes. His face was hidden behind a thick beard; his beady eyes close together and his head naturally going bald. He didn't seem as though his brain was capable of speech other than the word yeah. Clearly the Troll was 'the brains' of the two.

"Perhaps you're right." K replied in a fake, posh accent. The English didn't much like Americans back then. "Could either of you help me find my way home?"

The Troll let out a low, throaty chuckle and nodded, all the while licking his lips. K continued to feign innocence and soon smiled herself as though relieved.

"Wonderful." She smiled.

"Right this way, mum." He said motioning to a long, dark alleyway between two apartment buildings.

K followed without reservation. Almost as soon as they were between two of the George Yard Buildings, the tall one grabbed her. He wrapped his massive arms around her body and held her tightly while the Troll pulled out a knife. He pressed it to K's cheek and stood as close to her as he could get. His stench burned her eyes.

"I warned ya'," he sneered. K could practically see his teeth rotting he was so close. "Ya shouldn't'a been wanderin' 'round 'ere alone." His jaundice eyes danced along her features, over her body, then back to the knife. "I fink I gonna enjoy cuttin' up this pre'y lil' face of yers."

He pressed the blade against her cheek and raked it down. K tensed her jaw and bit back the groan as she stared at him unblinkingly. The Troll delighted in the blood that came from his dull knife and even giggled as he pulled it away. The giggle and his smile, however, faded quickly. He watched K's skin begin to weave itself back together almost the instant his knife was gone. He took a half-step back and looked up at her. K's face was blank and emotionless, cold and unsettling in its own right as she looked down her nose at the Troll.

Slowly, her features began to change. Her eyes grew blood red, veins began to protrude from her skin and her complexion turned demonic. K's lips parted to reveal the wicked teeth hidden from sight. The Troll looked horrified. Good…

"My turn." She growled in an unnatural voice.

K threw herself back into the giant. His head bounced off the wall of the building behind him and he fell unconscious to the ground. She lunged for the Troll before he could escape and sank her teeth into his throat the moment he began to scream. The sound turned to useless gurgles as she gnawed on him.

All of the rage she felt, the hatred and anger, came out in a violent wave. She began to tear at the Troll, ripping into him without bothering to stop. She was vicious and cruel and took delight in his struggles.

When the Troll's head fell from his shoulders and hit the ground with a sickening pop, K realized she'd gnawed through his neck entirely. She pulled back and looked at the carcass she held. Rolling her eyes, K dropped it without a care. In fact, she seemed more annoyed that his neck wasn't stronger and his head had the gall to fall off.

She looked down at her dress and realized the Troll had bled all over it. Her annoyance with the dead man deepened. Why couldn't he have died right? It didn't even don on her that it was her ruthless attack that led to the mess.

K began to swat the blood on her coat as though it would remove the traces that had already seeped into the deep purple fabric of her dress beneath. She'd only just begun when she felt something behind her. K turned and hissed at whoever stumbled across her, bearing her fangs and horrific features.

A young man stood perhaps twenty feet away. He looked at her indifferently. K glowered at him. She took a single step towards the young man –more than willing to eat someone else that night- when the giant began to rouse. He drew her attention away from the stranger.

The bulk of a man began to push himself up as he recovered from K's previous assault. His head likely hurt, but he soon began to see the carnage around him. His screams started low at first, but grew when he realized the Troll's head wasn't attached to his body. He tried to run. He didn't get far.

The stranger suddenly appeared in front of him smiling wickedly. He lunged at the tall idiot and sank his teeth into the giant's throat. The screams soon died along with their source. The stranger dropped the tall man carelessly to the ground before turning his attention back to K. Her features returned to their more human look and his did too.

K looked him over briefly. He was her height –not incredibly tall for a man- and dressed as nicely as she was. He was clean –despite the blood on his face- and shaven. His dark eyes shined like polished obsidian in the night and the bloody smile on his lips was just as wicked as the glint in his eye.

She said nothing to him and decided to simply leave. She didn't have to worry about being outted and was content to walk away. K made it all of ten feet before the stranger chuckled behind her.

"Wait," he called after her. K didn't stop and heard his shoes clicked against the ground as he followed. He was soon at her side. "That was rather good." He said. K remained silent and walked. "Oh come now, at least tell me your name?" again, she said nothing. "Wait," he grabbed her arm and she immediately snatched it back. K glared at him warningly. "Apologies," he smiled as he held up his hands in surrender. "It's just, I've left my own body there," he pointed to a stairwell that led into one of the buildings. "And I doubt it'll be long before she's discovered. I wasn't entirely discrete either. "

K rolled her eyes in irritation with the young man at her side, but she didn't exactly have room to judge. She did just leave a headless corpse of her own only a few yards away.

The stranger grabbed her hand, bowed slightly and pressed her bloody knuckles to his lips. She cocked a single brow at the behavior.

"I'm Lucien." He said as he stood upright again, still holding her hand and still smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "Come," he held her hand a bit tighter than before. "The night's still young."

K didn't know what possessed her, but she found herself following the charming young man with the unnerving smile.

~!~

It didn't take long for the bodies to be found. The newspapers jumped at the chance to write about the macabre. It seemed Victorian times were enjoying the disturbing as of late.

K was asleep in her underwear (a corset tied tightly over her frilly combinations) because her dress had been drenched in blood, in a bed that wasn't hers. She was tired and still drunk with blood. She and Lucien had spent hours hunting and stalking people on the streets of London, but they only killed one more person. The police had come out in storm when they found the three bodies. Not wanting to leave more, they dropped the fourth and last into the Thames.

K felt something touching her back while she slept. She wanted to slap it away, but it didn't linger.

"Look," Lucien chimed as he sat on the bed beside her. K opened her eyes and looked up at him without emotion. He beamed as he held up the newspaper of the day. "We've made the front page."

Her brows came together. K pushed herself up and took the paper to read it.

"The Horrors of Whitechapel," she read. "Three bodies were found early this morning in the George Yard Buildings of George Yard, Whitechapel. The two men looked to have been attacked by one of the many packs of rabid dogs who roam the area. The third body was that of known whore Martha Tabram. She was found stabbed to death on the landing of one of the buildings nearby. Police have no blah, blah blah." K sighed. She handed him the paper again and went back to lying on her stomach. "You killed a strumpet?"

He smirked and nodded as he read the article again. K rolled her eyes and nuzzled the pillow again.

"Why bother stabbing her?" she asked with a yawn.

"It helps cover the bites." He told her simply. "Then they simply think a mad human's killing women instead. But you, darling," she opened a single eye to see him staring down at her with approval. "They contribute your brutality to an entire pack of wild dogs." He leaned close. Lucien moved one arm over her body and planted his palm against the bed behind her so he could hover just above her. "Bravo."

As she looked at him staring at her with a sick form of pride and adoration, K knew it was time to leave. With a sigh, she pushed herself back up and left the bed. Lucien's smile faded as he watched her get ready to leave.

"Where are you going?" he asked as she dressed.

"Home." She told him simply.

"Why?" he pressed. K could hear the disappointment which annoyed her.

K slipped her garment on and her jacket over it. The black jacket helped hide enough blood she could pass primarily unnoticed for awhile on the street. She adjusted her clothing and turned to him.

"Goodbye, Lucien."

And with that, she was gone. Lucien remained behind staring angrily at the door after she'd left. He didn't like people turning their backs on him and leaving without explanation. Dressing himself, he soon followed after her.

~!~

K either didn't know she was being stalked by the charismatic Lucien, or she was simply too deep in her own world to notice. Whatever the reason, he'd taken to following her ever since she left his flat nearly three weeks prior. He'd hoped to see the same level of brutality from her he had the night they met, but K was reserved ever since. It bothered him greatly. He wanted someone like him, someone to share in the gore.

As she walked through the impoverish Whitechapel district again for a meal, Lucien made himself known. He was standing against a building a few yards in front of K beneath a lit streetlamp so she could see him. She did, but didn't bother acknowledging him at first.

"Avoiding me?" he asked as she walked by him without a break in step.

"Ignoring." She clarified.

Lucien pushed himself away from the light pole and began to follow after her.

"Seems a pity." He said. "Especially when it's clear we have so much in common."

"Unlikely."

"No?" he sped up to walk a few feet ahead of her and turned. He walked backwards so he could look at her as he spoke because it was clear K didn't plan on slowing for a conversation. "I saw what you did that night. It was vicious." He began to smile that unnerving grin again. "It was beautiful."

K chewed the inside of her cheek. He noticed something like regret or shame flash in her eye.

"It shouldn't have happened."

Lucien stopped abruptly causing her to do the same since he was in her path. He narrowed his eyes.

"Never regret such artistry." He told her sternly. Her brows began to twitch. "You are a vampire, the strongest and most incredible of the supernatural factions." He reached out and grabbed her shoulders. "We are creatures who demand respect and apologize to no one."

K's brows soon came together as she looked at him. Lucien was dynamic and she was falling victim. Never had a single soul told her she wasn't a monster. Never had anyone said she was nothing more than an abomination. Even those among the Bennetts she got along with told her plainly that vampires weren't natural, that they'd been created against The Balance and shouldn't exist. While most of them might not have meant it as an insult, that's what it felt like regardless. After all, she hadn't chosen the life of the undead. And Elizabeth… the insults she slung… those were hateful to say the least, and cut K deeply.

But now she had Lucien telling her to be proud of what she was, telling her there was nothing to be ashamed of and their kind was perfect as it was. He was telling her everything she'd never heard and it was having an affect.

A slow smile began to tug at the corner of Lucien's lips as he watched her succumb to his words.

"Humans are nothing more than food, dullards for us to do with as we wish." He continued in a slimy voice she suddenly found charming. "And they should fear us."

In his twisted explanation, K began to aim the comment towards those she felt insulted her. She'd been nothing but a servant in her life, a slave in the past life, and he was right. Humans were weak, pathetic little creatures, meant for nothing more than to sustain vampires.

A slow smile began to form on her lips. It was the first time she'd smiled in front of Lucien, or at all for years and it felt good. He laughed darkly at the mischief reflecting back in her eyes and had the perfect way for them to celebrate her new found freedom.

~!~

K was lounging in a tub. The water had turned a milky red where it had rinsed the blood from her skin, but not all of it had been washed away. Her head was back resting against the slope and hanging slightly off the edge, her eyes were closed and her still-bloodied arms were draped along the rim of the tub. She was completely at ease in her new life which was something she never thought she'd ever feel. She had finally embraced the vampire side.

The door to her flat opened, but she didn't bother opening her eyes. It was only Lucien and she knew that. Instead, she reached blindly for the drink she had sitting on a nearby stool.

"We've made the front page again." He said as he stepped closer.

"That's nice." She answered airily and without any real concern. She didn't care, but he seemed to enjoy the attention.

She heard Lucien pull a chair closer and sit not too far from her tub. Still her eyes remained closed.

"Another body was found in Whitechapel this morning," he began to read, "That of prostitute Mary Ann Nichols. She was found with her throat slashed twice and a number of stab wounds to her abdomen. Police refuse to comment on whether or not this case in linked to that of prostitute Martha Tabram, though speculation has been made."

As he read and reveled in his story, K reached for a cigarette and lit it before sinking again into her water. She didn't even bother rinsing the dried blood from her hand before lighting it. She just didn't care that she was covered in the blood of the woman Lucien was currently reading about. This was her new life. This was K's reinvention.

"If only they knew the true body count, hm, Jaclyn." He teased.

Kalliope was gone. She was weak, a servant to humans and lesser beings. Jaclyn… Jaclyn could be whoever she chose to be. She could be the monster, the vile creature she was forced to become centuries ago. She could be the one they wrote about in the newspapers.

"We may need to come up with a name for ourselves." He finally said as he continued to read over the article for the second time since arriving. "They keep calling us The Butcher and other nonsense. I think we can come up with something better... though I do like the ripper bit."

"And how do you plan to tell them the name you decide?" she asked as she exhaled the smoke from her lungs.

"I'll mail them a letter." He told her with a smirk.

K thought the idea of a name was ridiculous, but she didn't care either way.

"How about The Ripper and Jaclyn?" he asked with a cheerful laugh.

"They'll never believe a woman was involved." She told him. K tapped the ashes from her cigarette into an empty glass.

"You're right." He mumbled before it donned on him. "How about Jack the Ripper?"

K shrugged. She didn't care what the news, police or the public called them, if anything at all. K was simply there to release her rage. Lucien was the more sadistic of the two.

When they hunted Ms. Nichols, K struck first. She had suddenly appeared in front of the hooker and slashed her throat before she could scream. They fed on the blood that came freely from the wound as she died. When she was gone, K let her drop and it became Lucien's turn. His excuse for stabbing the dead woman as he did was because of fear. He wanted the police, the people and everyone else to be afraid of what they'd done. In truth, K had a suspicion that Lucien was just sick, that he delighted in cutting flesh and let him do what he desired. Again, she found it hard to care.