Jake Shroud - Turn 1

The Thames was restless, the heavy clouds and wind giving the choppy waters the air of simmering anger. The headlights of the Bentley reflected in the glistening railings that kept the river from the road like it were some cage to hold the dark beast.

“Not the nicest of nights,” commented the driver, a scruffily dressed, bespectacled figure very much unlike the owner of the car who sat in the passenger seat next to him. “Keep your eyes on the road,” said the rather dapper man, “the turning should be coming up soon.”

Not one for being quiet for long the driver spoke up again. “I’ve heard of this Jake Shroud, his music’s not my cup of tea, but I know he’s worth a bob or two. The question is why are we coming out on such a foul night to pay him a visit?”

Alexander reached out and turned down the sweeping classical music that was coming from the car’s speakers. “Firstly, you’ve just been listening to him for the past half hour and haven’t complained. Secondly, I met him at Sir Elton’s party a few nights back and we got talking, seems he’s got a mansion on the outskirts of Paris and moved to apartments here in London after tragedy struck several times at his old gallic home. It began with his beloved racehorses being slain and ended, if it has ended, with his wife’s death.”

“Yes but where do we come in?” asked Waldo, “I take it the deaths were unusual.”

“The French papers claimed it was the work of some crazed psychopath who slit their throats but let’s just say the blood at the crime scenes did not match the amount that was lost by the victims. I think Mr Shroud knows more than he was willing to tell me but he seemed interested when I said I thought I may be able to help, so maybe this little meeting might see him open up a bit more. New Harbour Way, yes this is the turning!”

 

‘A car. Looks like he has visitors,’ pondered the figure crouched atop the roof of the apartments opposite. He turned up the collar of his long leather coat as the wind brought more dirty London drizzle down. The black hat covering his head was dribbling water onto his knee but Mudskipper appeared not to notice, his attention on the building outside which the Bentley had just parked.

The two figures which exited the car were met at the door by the figure he recognised as Shroud and from the looks of it he was showing them into his main living room. It was then that Mudskipper thought he saw movement on the roof of the apartment he was watching. A vague flick of light that could have been a flashlight coming on and then quickly off.

Mudskipper was already moving, the black shadow that he was running and then leaping…

 

“… and this,” explained Alexander, “is my associate, Waldo Smith.”

Waldo pushed back his large framed spectacles that had slipped down his nose and shook Jake’s hand. “I used to be the model they used for that well known series of children's books,” he said with a smile, Jake slightly unsure as to whether he was joking or not.

Jake invited them to sit, the lavish but stylish surroundings reeking with money especially the various antique musical instruments and original horse paintings.

Their host sat quietly for a few moments and then announced, “Our meeting at the party was not by accident. I’m good friends with Elton and had his PA invite you as I wished to meet you and find out what sort of person you were. I have read about and heard of the many cases you have investigated and I know your speciality is the occult.”

With a deep breath Jake sat back, “I have tried to delve as deeply as I could myself but I need help. Let us be honest, we both know that vampires were responsible for the attacks on the horses and Helene. At first I tried to hunt out a Vampire Coven I learned operated in Paris but the more I delved the more I found that the attacks had come from another source and were directed to hurt me and were not just a random spot of blood hunting. What do you know of the Masons?”

“Group of men that like dressing up and playing pseudo religious games,” piped up Waldo, “Do a lot of good charity work and have some rather excellent dinner evenings though.”

“Not the mainstream Masons,” said Jake, “I’m talking about those Masonic groups that broke away, the Black Masons seems to be the generic name for these groups and I…”

CRASH!

The noise came from upstairs…

 

Cassandra had thought this was going to be easy.

The security system had a hole in it and the bedroom skylight was that hole.

Now however she was falling through that skylight, the strong dark figure that had appeared out of nowhere falling through with her, his arms tightly entwined about her, his shoulder having winded her.

Along with the broken glass, they struck the side of the large bed and bounced off, Cassandra able to get free of the grip and deliver a spinning kick to the side of the shade-wearing figure.

Mudskipper staggered back, surprised by the speed of the woman, unaware of her circus background. As she tried to kick at his groin, he knocked the foot to one side and showed her what speed was all about. The flurry of punches and forearm smashes were difficult to defend against, coming as they did in very rapid succession. She was caught several times and felt warm blood trickling from the side of her mouth.

Knocked back into a chair, she grabbed at it and began using it to defend herself, finally slamming its feet down on the floor and using the back of it to hold herself up as she leapt into the air and delivered not one but two vicious kicks to Mudskipper.

Flying back to crash into the dressing table and shattering the bedroom mirror, Mudskipper shook his head to regain his senses spotting that Cassandra had pulled out a couple of throwing knives. Dodging the first one but being caught in the shoulder by the second, Mudskipper reached into the deep ‘poacher’ pockets on the inside of his long leather coat and drew forth two short metal staves. The tips of the two of them suddenly started to crackle with electricity as Cassandra ran towards the bed to leap upon it. It seemed she was intending to use it as a trampoline to bounce up to the skylight…

Fitzzzz!

The right staff caught her in the thigh and she stumbled, the other staff hitting the side of her head. The blows were coming in fast and furious and a third head strike saw consciousness slip away from her.

At that moment the door to the bedroom crashed open and Jake, Alexander and Waldo burst in. In Jake’s hand was a revolver whilst Alexander was armed with an ornate dagger. They saw Mudskipper knelt over the body of the woman and whilst Alexander and Waldo were ready for action, Jake however lowered his revolver.

 

“Not your usual silent entrance Mudskipper,” commented Jake before indicating to the woman. “Who’s she?”

Mudskipper shrugged, “Looked like she was trying to break in, thought you’d appreciate me stopping her.”

Turning to Alexander and Waldo, Jake explained, “This is Mudskipper, he’s a bounty hunter I was put in touch with. He’s been helping me, or rather I’ve been paying him, to get me a contact in the Black Masons.”

“And I’ve done my job,” declared Mudskipper, “well sort of…”

From within the breast pocket of his coat, he drew forth a folded piece of paper speckled with dark stains.

“Took that from my prospective contact,” he explained, the expression in his eyes hidden behind his shades. “Seemed he wasn’t going to be very helpful so I made sure he wasn’t going to pass on details of our interest back to his friends.

As Cassandra began to groan with returning consciousness, Jake unfolded the piece of paper; 
 

Hebortine Meeting for Crimson Robes of the Second Order 15/11/00 Remember that to reach the Grand Hall you must go forth 4 Tirhvipp Vseh 8 Jviamr Vseh 6 Sttmherw Qiaw