Hello all!

I hope you enjoy this twist on the Jack the Ripper tale! It will be a few chapters long, next chapter is already mostly written because it was suppose to be part of this chapter but I had to break it up. Too long.

Let me know what you think! Comment, follow, share with your friends! All good things!

Happy Reading!

Whitechapel, London had a very particular smell. To the everyday human, mostly it would smell of sewage and garbage. Unpleasant in its own right. However, a vampire was able to smell all the subtle nuances in the air. Such as the smell of money changing hands for dirty deeds, the crisp burnt of lowly dinners cooking in stoves, the rotted decay of dead animals (some of which ended up in said dinners) and the acrid stench of body odor.

The pungent perfume made Arthur crinkle his nose. If centuries alive had taught him one thing, it was that humans are and always would be a disgusting bunch. In both hygienic standards and basic temperament. Arthur walked quickly, the sooner he was out of Whitechapel the better.

But the smell that was most prevalent was the foul stench of sex. It clung to the air, overwhelming the senses like a woman wearing too much perfume to mask her funk. Sickly body odor mixed with repulsively horrid bodily fluids, making the most unpleasant smell imaginable. It was enough to make any respectable vampire gag and retch in disgust. Hedonistic humans. Vile and revolting.

While he had been human, he couldn't remember being that atrocious. Of course, it had been nearly 300 years since and he had been highborn but still, Arthur Kirkland was sure he had been better in every way than these particular human males. If he was being honest, he had to admit that some humans, both male and female were worth knowing. He had a fair few human friends. He did have a rather large soft spot for human children on the other hand were a different story. Even though they were annoying and painstakingly stupid sometimes. He had greater patience for the grubby, constantly sticky, loud and obnoxious breed than he did the adults. His only regret about his human life was that he had not had the opportunity to father a child.

He shook his head of these wandering thoughts. He was on a mission.

A mission that was nearly derailed by the next shack he passed. The smell of sex was so heavy and fresh, his hand flew up to his mouth and he gagged loudly. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to retreat back to his lovely, pleasant smelling manor in the city. However, he straightened up, fixed his traveling cloak and mustered on, hurrying past the offending building. There was a problem here in Whitechapel that needed taking care of.

A problem named Jack the Ripper.

Many had told him that this wasn't a matter for him to concern himself with but Arthur had a feeling he should investigate.. There were a number of reasons why he had chosen to pursue this vagrant. Two poor women had already been brutally hacked to bits and murdered by the madman. While Whitechapel was considered the slums, it was still a part of his beloved London city. He wanted the abhorrent scourge gone from his streets. And, mainly, it was giving vampires a bad name.

To be fair, they had a bad name to begin with but it was getting worse. Because of the nature of the murders, there had been loud talk that it was a vampire behind the attacks. Nasty rumours were swirling around the whole of London. Now, Arthur knew well and good this Ripper was no vampire. Not even close. Complete and under nonsense to try and pin it on one of his kind. For starters, they had standards and did not kill so sloppily or needlessly. There had been too much waste of blood for it to have been a creature of the night. Nor did they kill women. Men were the targets, drunken men that no one would miss come morning. Personally, Arthur never killed any man he could not easily dump into the Thames, as extra precaution.

He would make an exception for Jack the Ripper. Everyone would know it was a vampire who killed the flesh and blood terror of Whitechapel.

Arthur had very little to go by when looking for this man. There were plenty of rumors going around about what he looked like. Obviously the only ones who truly knew were unable to tell anyone. However, there were a few common repetitions within the gossip. Jack the Ripper was said to be tall, wore an expensive, fancy looking black cloak and a rather pompously tall top hat. Apparently, he was thin and trim, and strong in appearance. Everyone seemed to agree on one thing. Jack the Ripper was a foreigner. Someone who clearly did not belong on their shores. No one could decide which nationality he was, Arthur had heard it all. Ukrainian, Swedish, Austrian, German, French, American. All had been passed around as possible, usually coinciding with peoples biases.

It really didn't matter one wit where his Earthly home had been. Arthur would be delivering him straight to the Devil himself. Returning the unwanted package to sender.

Patrolling Whitechapel turned out to be a bit tedious. Honestly, it was getting right boring. But he knew he needed to do it. Ripper would not kill again, not while he was on watch. An hour passed, than another. Nothing suspicious was happening. At the two and half hour mark of walking around, looking for something, Arthur was going to turn home. He would come back tomorrow. And the next day. He would until he captured his prey.

As he went down a street to leave, something caught his eye. A small home, nestled between buildings, was quickly drawing the curtains. Lamps went out in an instant and there was a lot of shuffling around. Arthur stopped, that was certainly interesting. He moved closed and gasped. Out of the door came a man, tall, thin, wearing a black cloak and an obnoxious top hat. Arthur watched as he looked around suspiciously, clearly checking to see if his coast was clear. He had long blond hair and with Arthur's sharp hearing, he heard the man speak French to himself.

Jackpot. He had found him. The Ripper was his. Unfortunately, he had made another kill, but he would not be making another one.

Arthur was quick after the man, following him down the alleyway, moving quickly and stealthy behind him. They weaved their way through the dark, ducking here and there, clearly he was a man who did not want to be followed. Once Arthur knew they were away from the main part of town, curiously heading towards the nicer section, he launched his violent attack. Ripper never knew what hit him, Arthur grabbed him from behind, snaking his arms around him. One hand was firmly over the Frenchman's mouth, the other arm was locked across his body. Arthur leaned over, smiling in his ear.

"Your reign of terror in London has come to an end, Jack the Ripper." He whispered, proud of himself for the mockery.

There wasn't a moment of hesitation, not one second was given for doubt or for the Frenchman to scream or fight him off. Arthur sunk his fangs into his neck and began to drain him at once. The world melted away and all Arthur wanted to focus on was drinking this horrid man's blood.

If Arthur had one deep, dark confession to make, it would be that he adored the taste of French blood. He found himself craving it on most occasions. Easily his favorite of the Europeans. While it was by no means the rarest, that title went to the isolated Japanese, French blood was the best. It was to be savored and enjoyed, the way one would enjoy a meal at a fine dining restaurant. Not a drop was to be wasted, not one single ounce. Arthur drank quietly, eventually the Frenchman stopped kicking and fighting. His movements began to slow. His blood was hot and exquisite.

It took everything in Arthur to pull away before he completely drained him. To be sure, he would in due time, but unfortunately, he had some questions that needed to be answered first.

Rather unceremoniously, he dropped Jack the Ripper to the ground, watching him crumple into a satisfying heap. Arthur sat down on a nearby crate, licking his lips and pulling out a handkerchief to clean his face and nails with. He smiled in triumph. He had done it, he had put an end to Jack the Ripper.

"Tell me, Ripper, how does it feel to be drained of your blood? Do you think it's how those girls felt?" He said, watching him writhe around on the ground. He was fumbling with something around his neck and Arthur squinted to see what it might be.

"I-I am not Jack z-zhe Ripper…" He wheezed, pulling a chain out from around his neck. Arthur scoffed.

"Right, and I'm the bloody King. Save your lies for the devil," Arthur rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to kick the man. "I saw you fleeing your latest crime scene in great haste, you can't fool me. Clearly, I will not be getting any straight answers from you. Shame." Arthur said, shaking his head. He had hoped for a fight, a little scuffle to bring some excitement to the night. It was disappointment.

The man writhed on the ground, curling in on himself, "Sil vous plait… my boys, zhey need me… " He groaned.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Boys?" He repeated.

"Oui, m-my sons. I am not z-zhe Ripper, you 'ave zhe wrong p-person… " He coughed. He clutched the necklace tightly and Arthur could see the fine gold rings on his fingers. He noticed his hair was perfectly clean and styled. Under his cloak peeked the vibrant tones of a well dressed man. Something wasn't adding up. Something indeed felt off about this. Arthur glared.

"You are just trying to get me to spare your life but it is too late. I've drained you past the point you can survive. And besides, I don't spare murderers. What is that thing around your neck?" He snatched it away, the Frenchman being too weak to resist much.

Arthur held the object in his hand, turning it over to examine it. A common gold locket. Nothing noteworthy about it. It had some gold filigree decorating it, a rather large diamond embellishment and the initials JB engraved in fancy script on the back. Arthur flicked it open easily and stared at the pictures inside.

One side had a beautiful woman, her blond hair framing her face perfectly. She was petite but looked strong and tough. The kind of woman who didn't take no for an answer and would push past society limits placed on her gender. One the other side were two small, grinning boys. Unruly hair, both of them, one with a stubborn curl and the other with a dreadful cowlick. They looked to be no more than five years old. They were cute, but it seemed to Arthur that they gave off a "handful and a half" type of feeling.

His gaze returned to the woman's face and he studied it. She looked familiar, like he had seen her several times before.

"Who is this woman? Is this a trophy from a family you murdered?" He demanded, an uneasy feeling creeping into his chest. Something did not feel right.

The Frenchman laid on his back, staring up at the stars, "It iz my… late wife… Jeanne Bonnefoy… zhose are our boys, Matthieu and Alfred…" He wheezed. Arthur froze to the spot. That was not possible. It couldn't be!

"B-bonnefoy? Your wife? You aren't… are you Francis Bonnefoy?" Arthur asked, his head spinning.

"Oui, I am…"

"Shit…"

Francis Bonnefoy, one of if not the wealthiest man in the city. Well known for his many enterprises. Including but not limited to, bakeries around town, toy shops, a shipping empire, and a sweet making factory. A jack of all trades when it came to appeasing the younger generation. Now Arthur realized where he had seen his wife's picture before. She had been all over the paper. A few years back, perhaps two if Arthur wasn't mistaken, she had died in a house fire. Made it out of the house fine but later succumbed to soot lung. It had been all over town, people talked about it for weeks. Her funeral had been a massive gathering. As she had been well loved by the people.

Her husband, equally as loved, had clearly mourned for his lost wife. He dropped out of the public eye, once it's shining star, now a recluse, living in his new home with his two boys. Until Jack the Ripper darkened the streets, no one had barely heard from him at all. He had only come out of his darkened door to announce a reward.

For the capture of Jack the Ripper. A handsome reward at that. And, if the rumors were to be believed, Francis was paying for any of his employees who lived in Whitechapel to move out quickly to better parts of town.

Francis was trying to save the town from the Ripper. He couldn't have been the Ripper.

Arthur stumbled back. He had made a terrible, horrible mistake.