Chapter Twenty-Five:
That night, when Mina and Henry went to bed, they were met with the sight of a sickly-looking creature perched on their bed. It was a revolting thing, diminutive, dreary, reeking of miasma. It smiled—they assumed, the skin around its mouth stretched in a lopsided form—when it saw Henry. "Ah, Dr. Jekyll," the thing said. "My name is Malady. I am a servant in the Devil's household. Your state of health has been entrusted to me. Believe me to be a good caretaker and I will see you to the end of your battle with your illness."
"I'm sure you will," Henry replied. "You'll take me there quickly, won't you? I'm afraid I cannot allow you to remain in the presence of my wife. Please leave."
The thing looked offended. "You do not trust me," it said, coming nearer to Mina and Henry. "I'm insulted. You have every good reason to trust me, Dr. Jekyll. I assure you."
"Angela has always said to never trust a Demon," Mina said lightly. "If that's what you truly are."
"Perhaps I am," it replied. "But you trust Angelique. She was almost a Demon herself. I worked closely with her."
"Get out." The thing looked insulted again, but disappeared from sight. Henry and Mina put it out of their minds as they went to bed.
"Angelic, the Lord has work for you," Gabriel said, finding her in the Guardian Angel garden. She was allowed there, and she was obeying her orders. "There has been word of a new, extremely powerful Demon in the employ of the Devil. You are to seek it out, observe it and report back the qualities it possesses. Do not engage it at any cost. Go." She nodded and flew away silently.
She found herself in the dregs of London and hid herself in the shadows of the buildings. She closed her eyes and mentally reached out for the Demon. It was a trick she had picked up while working for the Devil and she never thought it would ever come in useful until then. She found a disturbance in one of the seedy pubs in Whitechapel. So, disguised as an unfortunate, Angelique went to the pub.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke, alcohol and lust. Carefully making her way through the unruly crowd, she found a secluded table in a darkened corner and looked around her. The occupants of the establishment were none of good report. She saw several she recognised from her traversing as Ana Pryde, but none that she could identify as a Demon.
Then she saw him. She knew immediately that he was the Demon she was in search of. Not only because he bore the definitive mark Demons had on the back of their left hand—the pentangle—but because he took the form of a man that she knew was undeniably and unmistakably dead—Sir William Gull. He took a young unfortunate out of the pub, malice riddling his face. Angelique quickly followed him. But he was gone before she could do anything to save the woman. So she returned to Heaven to report.
"Gabriel," she said. "It is Jack the Ripper. This will more likely than not take on the form of the Whitechapel Murders but on a celestial level. Good luck. I caught him by surprise as a Mortal, I doubt he will fall the same way twice."
…