The Ripper

The Third Night

Later that night, after his parents had fallen asleep, Erik gathered the things he would need for his little quest tonight. He draped a long, dark cloak over his shoulders and fastened his scabbard to his belt. Erik made sure to wear dark clothes tonight. Even though he didn't have a mask to cover his face, Erik figured keeping his hood up would be enough.

As he walked out, Erik past the door to his parents' bedroom. If they knew what he was doing . . . Erik brushed away the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was something he had to do. Tonight, The Ripper's reign would end.

Once outside, Erik chucked a few pebbles at Jean's window. Within a few rocks hitting the shutters, Jean opened the window, waved at Erik, then headed downstairs. Like Erik, Jean was dressed in dark clothes and a dark cloak. As the two traversed the back alleys and side streets to the brothel, Erik laid out his thoughts to Jean.

"I'll be the one to actually fight," Erik said. "You stay back. I don't want you getting hurt."

"If I'm not going to help," Jean countered, "Why am I coming?"

"Well, if something happens to me," Erik said, "You gotta run and tell the guards. This guy's killed a bunch of people, and you aren't trained to fight. You could get hurt."

"Nothing's going to happen to you," Jean murmured. "I'll make sure of it."

Erik sighed and ignored Jean's comment. In all honesty, bringing Jean with him was risky. Still, even though Jean didn't know how to fight, Erik needed someone to fall back on in case he, well, lost. To put it lightly. Erik's father had trained Erik how to swordfight since he was a young boy, but The Ripper had defeated Erik once before, even if Erik couldn't remember it. He'd have to depend on the element of surprise.

Erik brushed his hand against the hilt of his sword to activate its power. The spark traveled up his fingers and gave his arm a slight jolt. It had been a while since Erik last used his sword's power so the jolt of energy felt good.

The closer the two got to the brothel, the farther forward they pulled the hoods over their faces. Jean wasn't very well-known in the community, but almost everyone knew Erik's face. His father was one of the most famous merchants in Meryl, and he was his oh-so-darling son. In order to keep hidden, Erik slowed their pace to the point they were basically crawling.

The brothel smelled like spices and flowers. Even though they were outside, Erik felt the smell bombard his nose like strange tendrils. Did it smell bad? Good? Erik wasn't quite sure, but it was strong. A few sounds escaped the brothel too. Some . . . worldly.

"You know what she looks like, right?" Jean whispered.

Erik nodded. "She's the one with the red hair and white streaks." Many women working at the brothel had unnatural hair colors. Some people said that it was a sign they had signed their bodies over to the brothel. Erik's father, always the voice of reason, said it was a ploy to play on men's depravity.

Oh, the lashing Erik would get if his father ever found out he had stepped foot near a brothel.

"So how are you going to find this woman?" Jean whispered.

Erik's face grew hot. As of now, the two boys were hiding under one of the brothel's windows. Unless the lady decided to walk out now, they would have to sneak inside. More . . . noises escaped through the window.

"Um," Erik stuttered, "might have to go in."

Erik turned away so he couldn't see the look of disapproval on Jean's face, which the full moon would make all to clear.

"How else are we going to find her? I can't exactly track her with magic powers," Erik muttered.

"Your sword's basically magic, I don't see why not," Jean said.