I let out a scream, trying to pull away, but it was no use.
Something heavy hit me in the back of the head, and I felt myself fall into the shadows.
Chapter 2
The Freaks
London 1921
JAMES
“Should be any minute now, lads,” I muttered, staring down at the streets.
I was perched on a rooftop of one of the shops that owed me money, my wings pulling in tight. The moon was absent, clouds of dark steam blotting the midnight sky. London hissed and buzzed around me, the factories in this stretch never stopping. If I looked behind me, I could see the lights from signs and buildings burning like candles across the night. It was colder than I preferred, but it didn’t matter.
I could feel the blood lust warming me, the taste of victory so close sweet on my long tongue.
This part of the Thames had been cleared out, the street below silent. Any of the shops that might have bustled with customers had been cleared out by my men, and I watched as they sent the last of the bystanders away.
I avoided casualties when possible. Not because I cared about killing, but because it created a fucking mess otherwise.
By now, word would’ve gotten out that the Freaks were attacking— but the Rippers would be too far away to thwart us immediately. The Rippers were the mob that ran London, a group of monsters and humans heralded by a creature known as Jack the Ripper. They owned most of the business, the mayor, the warehouses, and banks. They took whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and didn’t do anything to help anyone other than themselves.
There was a saying that once you were a Ripper, you were always one– but that wasn’t true. I had left and formed my own mob known at the Freaks. I absorbed the leftovers, the forgotten, the hated and misunderstood. We killed people when it was needed, but we also helped them too. Monsters as well.
I wanted to live in a world where creatures like me didn’t have to claw their way up from the pits of hell just to be able to get a fresh breath of air.
Tonight, the Freaks had their business on the Westside, a deal with a business man that had sworn his loyalty to me. Well, that had been foolishly betrayed, but I was using it to my advantage.
I’d let Morte deal with that slimy bastard after we achieved our goal here.
I turned my gaze upward, watching as a silver blimp began to sink down towards the docks below. Its rotund body moved slowly, inching lower and lower. The undercarriage had windows, and I could see shadows moving back and forth as they readied for landing.
The aircraft held the key to the downfall of the Rippers, and I was salivating over it. I could feel our triumph— the first stab into the heart of the gang that I hated so much.
Hated, but respected. Jack ran an empire, but if history proved anything, it was that every kingdom could and would fall eventually.
“Almost,” I whispered.
My claws tightened into fists, my mechanical wing clicking as the gears turned. I let out a low hiss, my patience growing thinner.
“All the civilians are clear, boss.”
I looked down to see one of my men, Boris, leaning out of a window, his expression one of respect and fear.
I gave a subtle nod, which was enough to send him on his way.
Good. The men of our gang, although human, were reliable. I had found the best of the best, the ones that had been fucked over by the Rippers in one way or another. I might not have been warm and fuzzy, but I had a reputation for being fierce, honest, and loyal.
I heard a shout. My lips tugged into a wry smile as the humans on the docks, unsuspecting of what was about to occur, began to prepare for the landing of the aircraft.
The engines cried out, steam bursting from one of the many valves as it began to land. Ropes were sent down, the docking process beginning.
The humans went back and forth as they secured the ship. The lights of the undercarriage burned, the shadows within moving like little ants. Did they know? Was that the reason for their frantic movements?
It creaked and groaned as it made its landing, screeching as the gears slowed.
“The dove has landed,” I whispered, knowing that both Morte and Charles could hear me.
This would be a quick operation. We had been nipping at the Rippers’ heels for years, but after moving all the pieces into the right places— we would finally sink our teeth into them.
I had started as a nobody in the underbelly of society, a creature born into the darkness of our monstrous world. It had corrupted me, broken me, burned me— but I had clawed my way through the filth until I was close to the top.
There weren’t many monsters like me left in the world. Many even took the pretty pattern on my one wing as a sign of weakness. I was tall and lithe, my shoulders broad but not nearly as wide as my brothers.
Not brothers from birth, but the three of us had made a blood pact.
Charles and Morte.
Charles. He was an Unseelie with a brilliant mind— one that he used to wreak havoc on everything around him. There wasn’t a blueprint in London that he didn’t have memorised, not a monster or human that dared cross him— no. No one in their right mind would risk hearing the cursed melodies he could sing, the ones that could force a being to dance until their bones crumbled, or laugh until they went mad.
Charles was one of the only creatures that I felt anything for. He infuriated me, but he also made me a better leader.
It didn’t hurt that he was a good lover either.
Then there was Morte. A creature so foul that even I shivered in his presence at times. He was always covered, clothed in dark fabrics and a haunting plague mask befitting his name. It always made me smile to watch fear overtake those that even glimpsed at him, even as I felt its icy trickle down my own spine.
I had never seen his face or body, but I knew that it was sewn together from those that he murdered. He used his magic to create his physical form however it satisfied him, even if it meant carving the eyes or lips from one of his dolls.
To Morte, humans were merely toys for him to use however he pleased.
Of the three of us, he was the most twisted. Our bastardly trio made up the leaders of the Freaks— the most feared gang in London next to the Rippers. We had created our kingdom on the fringes of their world, ruling the pieces they neglected. We collected the businesses and people that they overlooked, using their negligence to our advantage.
This was a game. A game of power, of control.
I quite liked being in control.
The Freaks were out to destroy the Rippers, and tonight would be the beginning of the end for them.
Let the game begin.
Charles walked toward the docks, his silver hair gleaming like the moon. He carried a cane, swirling it in his fingers as he whistled. The melody was one I was all too familiar with, and I felt a shiver of excitement.
His stained glass wings were pulled in tight, his walk one of a drunk. He staggered forward, approaching the humans on the docks that were working to tie down the blimp.
One of them shouted at him, their hand gesturing for him to leave.
I could hear Charles’ gleeful laugh from here.
His whistling stopped and he lifted his cane. He hit one of the men, sending them sprawling.
For sure a broken jaw from that swing.
The other men began to shout, a couple of them running at him. Charles allowed them to tackle him, his laughter growing more unhinged.