(Warning: graphic violence is depicted in this chapter. I mean, this is a vampire novel, and what did you expect?)

29 August 1888

The Pink Lotus, Whitechapel

With the assistance of an acolyte of Caishen, I had set up my headquarters. It wouldn't do if a sober guest of the hotel I formerly patronised were to see my nocturnal transformation. She and I had renovated a bankrupt furniture store into a pottery. The owner was desperate to sell and his eyes were as big as saucers when I offered twice the purchase price for immediate occupation.

I kept the stock, needing displays for the forgeries I was about to sell to these capitalist pigs (the god of wealth would have my head roll if I sold authentic Ming Dynasty vases). Since I had no skill in pottery or painting, Ye Xing would be the one at the wheel, at the kiln, and with the paintbrushes. I gave us the Anglophone names Gerald and Susan.

For the store sign, I wrote the Romanised British name of the store and gave the acolyte free rein with the design. She managed to make it look like Pinyin script but still legible in English. I was impressed and gave her a princely commission. Ye Xing smiled and immediately began the forgery. I was to be the salesman and cashier.

Due to my heightened senses, the smell of wet clay and smouldering logs created a homely atmosphere that was barely perceptible to others. I went to the florist down the street and set up a running account for the most marvellous bouquets of roses, lilies, and other nosegays. The store next to it had imported Ceylon tea as well as freshly baked pastries.

It was only when I had made this honeypot as comely as possible that I had officially opened the business. The newspaper adverts informing upper society of the newest Chinese antiquities were already circulating and sure enough, we had a steady traffic of customers ogling and purchasing the forged goods.

I had expected "Jack" to act sooner but his first victim's corpse was found in the early hours of the 31st. Once I found the location, Buck's Row, I flew there in the middle of the same night. The stench of iron rusting overwhelmed the scent of the vampire. Frustrated at the fact that I couldn't find any other clues, I went to my apartment above the pottery and read the newspaper from earlier.

Mrs Emily Holland had found the corpse of Mary Ann Nichols and had recognised her from a prior acquaintance. The victim had several wounds inflicted by a knife thrust in a downward manner before the killer had slashed her belly with the innards spilling onto the street. Her throat was severed and her vagina stabbed.

The gruesome reading provided me with some insight into the mind of the killer. "Jack" was intelligent enough to conceal the puncture marks with those of a weapon. Although Christianity was pervasive on this island, he had belonged to a markedly conservative branch. This made his relationships with women complicated- he feared them so much, he would kill them.

While a true vampire such as myself had no reason to fear wooden crosses or holy water, I didn't want to enter the vestibule of every single church in this borough. This was tedious work so I merely marked the locations mentioned in the newspaper article: Whitechapel Road was the intended destination of Miss Nichols.

Because of the violent manner in which the victim was killed, women were on high alert than usual, sharpening their hat pins while the men in their lives escorted them home after sundown. Soirees started and ended earlier, and police presence was increased in the more affluent areas. The poor, as always, were left to fend for themselves.

With the first week of September, came news of another horrendous murder. I decided to attend the inquest of Annie Chapman. Elizabeth Long had seen her talking with a shabby-genteel man in a brown deer-stalker hat and dark overcoat. This occurred on 29 Hanbury Street at half past five in the morning.

"The man asked 'will you?' and Annie had answered 'yes'," the witness concluded her testimony before crumpling in a sobbing heap of black cloth. The mortician stated that Miss Chapman was disembowelled, with her intestines laid across her right shoulder, while her stomach was removed and placed on her left shoulder. Her reproductive organs had been removed.

Many faces blanched at this announcement, and I had to fight the urge to keep my bile down. "Jack" was becoming more reckless with each day that he remained unpunished and I was no closer to finding him. I bit down my lip and a fang drew blood before it healed again. I had to renew my efforts in other ways to find this murderer.

"What an exquisite piece," a young woman in a grass green, watered silk fawned over a tea set adorned with blue camellia. Her hair was mahogany brown, the tresses hidden in a large hat.

"You have a discerning eye," the compliment rolled off this time as smoothly as every other time I said it.

"Oh my, you speak English very well. I'm tempted to invite you as a special guest of honour at my masquerade ball," she giggled.

"Is inviting a stranger to your home the safest course of action during this time?" I pretended to frown in this chessboard of a conversation.

"Your name is Gerald and mine is Mary Huxtable," the socialite handed me her card.

We bantered as I wrapped the crockery in protective packaging and exchanged coins.

Ye Xing appeared, her apron stained with wet clay, presenting a gorgeous vase.

"What do you know of European dancing?" I showed her the card.

"Dancing in a rounded square to slow music," she shrugged. "Do I have to join you?"

"Yes," I tapped at the 'plus one' inked on the invitation. "We have a week to practice and tomorrow, we go shopping."

"Let's start after dinner," the acolyte washed her hands at the sink hidden behind the counter.

Our apartments were on the second floor of the building. I gave Ye Xing the bigger room, preferring the intimacy of the confined space. Shucking off my expensive suit and shirt, I placed an apron on top of my vest and started cooking. Since she served Caishen, my business partner was vegetarian and I made a warm vegetable broth, letting her have most of the rice.

"This one suits you best," I decided on a pink satin gown that reminded me of rosebuds on a spring day.

"Praise Caishen, I didn't think we'd stop after the other 10 dresses," she sighed in exasperation.

"Appearance is everything," I mused, remembering my days in the palace. For every celebration, I had had to endure being robed and disrobed in various cloths and prints. It would take hours to choose the perfect raiment so I understood her frustration. "We'll have the crinoline removed," I addressed the tailor, not wanting a cage skirt to trap my fellow spy.

"But sir, that's unheard of-"

"I see that you haven't heard of the ladies across the sea who were drowned, blown away, or caught fire due to those menaces," I used a diluted tone of my imperial voice. "Don't worry, I'll pay the cost of the crinoline, I just don't want it on the dress. You can use it on another dress and get twice the profit from one steelworks."

Having lived with the deity of wealth had taught me how to negotiate with these capitalists- maximise profit, minimise expense. I waved off his suggestion of bonnets, knowing that the acolyte would braid her hair into styles that would have the English ladies in awe and envy. The fashion shows had dolls modelling the latest fashions, including hairstyles, which were simple.

"But can I run in these shoes?" Susan's voice brought me back to the present.

"Ma'am, these are for walking and dancing," I looked at the heeled shoes. Really, they were no better than 'lotus feet', which practice was steadily declining ever since I left China. The acolyte commented something similar about the foot binding practice, and her words would forever live on in my mind as the best thing that I had ever heard that century.

"Sir, in the 8th century AD, a concubine danced around the emperor with silk wrapped around her feet. Through the passing of many generations, the practice mutated into one that disfigured women's feet so much, they could barely walk short distances. It started at 2 to 7 years of age, when their feet were soft and their minds blissfully unaware of what would happen next.

First, their feet would soak in a bath of water and herbs. Then all their toes, except for the big one, were folded down and the arch of the foot bent back. The process would go on for a couple of years, with ever tighter bandages and recurrently disgusting foot baths, until the feet were about three inches long. These shoes aren't much better."

Her tirade had the tailor apologising profusely. The acolyte picked out a sensible pair of shoes and I had mercy on the poor man by suggesting that he add an embellishment of some sort. Adding a generous tip as recompense for our demands, I had no doubt that he would later curse us foreigners with unusual opinions about aesthetics.

"You definitely look more dapper than any of the men at this masquerade," Susan did a quick survey of the ballroom.

"They have refined taste, though," every male gaze had honed in, onto her presence. "Are you going to grace any of their bedchambers?" Caishen allowed his servants freedom to engage in libertine activities, unlike most of the other Chinese deities. It was one of the reasons I admired Him above all others.

"We'll see," she accepted a flute of champagne one of the menservants had brought on a tray. I asked for a glass of red wine and he vanished wordlessly, while his colleagues circulated the room silently. The scent of roses placed throughout the room was cloying and we were greeted by our hostess.

Miss Huxtable introduced us briefly to everyone, and I made a mental observation of who was connected to the government and police station. Using my abilities as a bat, I emitted a frequency that had them whisper the addresses of their offices to me, and I would investigate these over the upcoming nights.

After a light dinner, the dancing began, Mary informed me that to the consternation of her potential suitors, I was the first and last on her card. The first dance was a quickstep played by the band. We skipped, flicked, and hopped with a lot of energy, to the marvel of the senior guests. It didn't need to be said that Susan kept her partner on her toes.

"You should have gone easier on him," I chided her when she joined me for the slower foxtrot.

"Now, where's the entertainment in that?" my fellow spy smirked before someone claimed her hand for the next number. Comely faces melted in my memory until the last dance of the night. It was a Bolero, with which we rose, fell, and created shapes gracefully. Mary's presence was as refreshing as the first dance, and she laughed when I told her so.

"I would love to get to know you on a more personal basis," I confessed when I looked at the chaise longue, cramped with people watching us from behind fans.

"Are you making love to me?" she smiled salaciously.

"There are many things I would love to do with you before that, fairest hostess," I confessed the burgeoning ideals that my heart held. Walks in the autumn air of the park, bathing in the sea in summer, sledding in the snow, tea parties in spring, and reading before the fire on rainy days. Playing charades and other frivolities.

She was enchanted by me, but I had fallen for her first.

"Your family absolutely will not bless the union so I suggest that we elope," I sealed her fate with those irrevocable words.

"When?" her breath was slightly hitched at the announcement.

"Let this borough become a little safer first," I bowed with the last note of the music. "Stay constantly until I claim you," I kissed her knuckles tenderly, knowing that she would stay bound to that spell. Susan spotted us and we thanked our hostess graciously before departing for our carriage at the front door.

"Making love wasn't part of the plan," the acolyte whispered in the closed compartment.

"When you've lived 3 lifetimes, as I have, you learn that many things that aren't part of the plan happen. You have to wrestle with them and yield to opportunity, or you ignore them to your detriment," I advised her. Ye Xing agreed with my plan but as the tarot reader advised, things wouldn't go as planned and the story would end in tears.

This morning, it was the tears of those who loved Elizabeth Stride AND Catherine Eddowes. I cursed myself for partying while these women were pleading for their lives with a psychopath. The former had had her face slashed from ear to ear but someone had interrupted the vampire's claws from inflicting damage other than that inflicted to her trachea. A small blessing.

Not in the slightest bit discouraged, the latter had had her face skinned before her abdomen was carved open, the contents splayed over her shoulders, and her uterus removed. In the space of 5 minutes. I could only hope that my supernatural skills would outmatch him- he was a monster created by men.

The only conclusion that I drew from these mutilations was that "Jack" was an individual who wasn't educated. He explored the inner workings of his victims but didn't dare explore with men, because he feared the same being done to him. A whole month had passed since the first murders so I had to figure out his targets before then.