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Come to Dust Chapter 19 - So We Meet At Last

Up until recently, I hadn't interacted with the nobility a whole lot. They may as well have been from a different world than I was. On the occasion I was hired to clean one of their chimneys, it was always with some sort of assistant and never the lord or lady -- they generally did not bother with a street urchin like me. I had only seen nobles -- real nobles -- from afar. They always seemed so different with their beautiful clothes and handsome outfits, the way they were groomed and walked, it was almost like they were on a stage and I was the audience. Bensley was rich and connected but nothing like the man in front of me.

He was a caracal, a rare breed of feline which spoke to his pedigree. The tufts of his ears added a few inches in height, and his golden yellow coat seemed to glow with a luster that I did not expect. He was that slinky kind of body you would expect from a cat but I could also tell he took care of himself -- his clothing held to his body in such a way that the outline of his muscles was hinted at when he moved his arms or turned his torso. The only reason it wasn't terribly clear was because he wore so many layers -- but then again, that was the nobility for you. It was almost like they were afraid to be seen naked.

Until now, I had also never seen a shade of green like the one this man wore -- a rich emerald that shimmered. It was like he had found a special color all for himself and made it his own. He was tall with a cut jaw and a firm muzzle. He also had this relaxing smile that put me instantly at ease.

Simply put, he was very attractive, so much so that it made my ears flush when I imagined what he may have looked like naked. But I swallowed quickly as he stepped forward, tugging off one of the white gloves he wore and held out his hand to Gideon first, then to me.

"Simon and... Gideon, right? Forgive me for using your first names immediately; I was not given your surnames. But it is still a pleasure to meet you both."

We shook hands, Gideon mumbling a greeting. I don't think Gideon knew what to do around someone like this. He was even more removed from the nobility than I was.

"Thank you, Lord Crossbell," I said with a polite bow of my head. "My name is Simon King, and this is Gideon Maxwell, but our first names are fine."

"Very well, Simon." The cat smiled and looked at me and then Gideon. "A first name basis is not something I am terribly accustomed to, but as the professor would probably say--"

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do," Bensley said with a chuckle as he wandered off into the kitchen. "Let me fetch some tea and biscuits!"

I watched Lord Crossbell chuckle some and tilt his head to Bensley's direction and look at me as if to say 'see?' and motioned me to come further inside. "I understand that I am here to help Bensley with a bit of an art project and investigation, correct? Also, please feel free to call me Mordecai."

"Yeah," Gideon said as he stepped in further and crossed his arms. "I know you think we're just seeing spooks but we saw him. We saw Spring Heeled Jack."

Mordecai flicked his eyes between the two of us and looked perplexed. He even tilted his head to the side in a very feline expression of curiosity. "Have you now? There are a lot of stories about this nightly spectre in the papers, but I figured they were just flights of fancy and mass hysteria. You are certain?"

"Quite," Gideon said with a rough tone. "Hard to think it was just some drunk codger running around when he had claws and glowing red eyes."

"Ah!" Mordecai held up his hand and frowned. "Gideon, I must insist you do not discuss any specifics about what you have seen."

"What, why?" I asked, frowning in confusion.

Mordecai looked back at me and I swear his smile broadened. He stepped closer to me and even put one of his hands on my shoulder. "Because," he began, "the mind is quite imperfect."

"I don't... exactly follow, sir," I said, looking up at him and holding his gaze. Was he not blinking while he looked at me?

Mordecai exhaled slowly and then stepped away. "It is still a new science, but our memories are like... a photograph." Mordecai pointed to one of them on Bensley's wall. This one being of his son by the looks of things. "Now, when we remember something from our experiences our mind takes that photograph, but over time, our mind and experiences begin to affect our perception of reality. For example, let's say that our good professor has seen another raccoon who quite looks like his lost son. Not exact but enough, say his ears are wider spaced apart. The professor would, and could, see his son in his mind's eye with the ears adjusted that way." Mordecai then clapped his hands together. "And all of a sudden, you have a new picture. This happens over and over again, and outside experiences can definitely cloud your own thoughts and fill in the gaps you may have missed."

"So... like," Gideon said, uncrossing his arms. "If I saw Jack wearing a lady's dress with a broach, and I told Simon this... he'd think he probably saw the dress too?"

Mordecai smiled from ear to ear and stepped closer to us. "Exactly! So now when Simon tells his story his mind now has the image of a dress with a broach. But let's say that it wasn't a broach but a necklace, but you didn't see it that way, Gideon, but thought you saw a broach. Well, Simon will tell me about it but he'll omit the thing about a necklace in all probability. So now we have an incorrect detail for a picture, and that makes our investigation that much harder."

"But we already talked about what he looked like," I said. "Isn't the damage already done?"

"Yes, it is," Mordecai said with a shrug of his shoulders, "but this way we mitigate the damage and reduce further degradation of your memories. Risking further memory divergence could make this whole endeavor useless, hence why I insist you do not talk about what you have seen until I have finished my drawings."

At that moment, Bensley came into the room, carrying in a tray with several cups, a teapot, and a small dish of pastries. "Mordecai, I couldn't help but hear you giving our young scholars a small lecture on how memories are made."

"Guilty as charged, Professor." Mordecai sat down and picked up a tea cup. "Your students are quite bright; I figured they would have been overwhelmed by this topic."

"Bright they are!" Bensley said joyfully, reaching over and patting Gideon on the knee. "And this one here is new but he is soaking up knowledge like a sponge. We're exploring topics he may enjoy. He may even surpass you and I in terms of raw knowledge, my boy." Bensley chuckled and sipped his own tea.

"Is that so," Mordecai mused, rubbing his chin. "It seems you both have bright futures ahead of you. Professor Bensley is notoriously gifted. I am certain there are students at the university who would give their tail for your opportunities."

"Ah..." I blushed and rubbed the back of my head. "He's just a good man is all. I try to do him right. He taught me how to read and do my numbers--"

"And to chew with your mouth closed," Gideon said with a grin as he took a sip of his tea next to me.

"I mean--hey! No he didn't!" I blushed and protested. Mordecai was watching me again, but he was smiling and laughing.

"Boys," Bensley said with a firmer tone than usual. "I know you enjoy bickering like an old married couple, but you are in the presence of a Lord of the Realm and his time is valuable. Respect it and try to behave."

"Oh Professor," Mordecai said with a shake of his own head and put his cup down. "Have I ever come off as so pomp? My father was the stickler for the rules and civility. Truth be told, I enjoy their genuine attitude and their complete faith in your company."

"What's that mean," Gideon said with a frown. "Complete faith in... Bensley's company?"

"It means," Bensley began, "that some nobles who are offended by your actions could make your lives difficult should they so decide. What Mordecai means is that my position and authority, being what it is, is giving you enough of a cover to act as you are without such dire social sacrifices."

"Nobility got a lot of rules," Gideon said with a roll of his eyes. "Just making a joke can get you in trouble."

"Quite right, young Gideon," the caracal said as he looked us both over. "The nobility is built on tradition and ceremony, always being on some kind of act. You only see them at their most genuine rarely, if ever. It is just... not how things are done in polite society."

"Sounds like people are just too scared to be themselves so they pretend to be someone they aren't," I said, frowning. "But when they slip up everyone turns on them. That's cruel, ain't it? No one's perfect."

"Perfection is subjective," Mordecai added, "and entirely within the eye of the beholder as well. What I may view as perfection would probably not meet your own exacting standards. But society..."

"Would say yer right," Gideon finished for him, "'cause yer from 'polite society' or whatever crap they say. But when one of you messes up, it's generally big enough to be a scandal, make the newspapers, and ruin lives. Regular folks' lives."

"Very astute, Mr. Gideon," Mordecai beamed. "You seem to be well versed in the ways society operates. You sure you are not a noble in disguise?"

"Just used to seeing regular folk get hurt when one of you does something stupid is all."

"Gideon!" Bensley said with a firm voice. "That is rude and--"

"It is alright, Professor," Mordecai said with a chuckle. "These boys have earned a bit of leeway from me. I would rather they be open and genuine anyway."

Bensley looked between Mordecai and Gideon and then sighed dramatically. He plucked the glasses from the bridge of his muzzle and began to clean the lens with a piece of cloth from his pocket. "Very well, but I will insist Gideon do his best to still try and act like a proper gentleman."

"But I ain't a--"

"Make the attempt, lad," Bensley said with a wry smile. "For an old man's heart. I know you're not from his -- our world, so to speak, but I know you are much smarter than you let on. I believe in your ability to stay your tongue."

I watched Mordecai and he seemed amused, but there was also something else about his expression. I'd seen it on Billy's face once or twice, usually when he was in a bad mood. But when he turned to face me, the man had his charming smile on, and he seemed... fine. "Well then," the caracal said with energy that also surprised me. "Let us get this project underway. Let me sit with Simon first. Gideon, Professor Bensley, if you could wait in the sitting room...?" Mordecai indicated to the open door down the hallway. "Try your best to not listen in. Details heard amongst you can cloud the picture I am trying to create."

"Of course, Lord Crossbell," Bensley said with a smile. He motioned for Gideon to follow him. "Come along, my petulant wolf-student. Let's go over the basics of etiquette in the presence of nobility."

We didn't hear Gideon's response but a groan. It made me chuckle. Mordecai motioned to the other side of the room. "Let us get more comfortable, Simon. If you would?"

I walked where the cat had indicated. It was near the fireplace with lots of light for this time of day. There were two sitting chairs, turned to be half facing one another. One had a table with a glass of water on the small table next to it. The other had a table pulled up with various drawing implements, tools, charcoal, and other items I had no idea what they were for. They were all laid out neatly in a rollable leather like bag. It was handsome with gold emboss and a fancy crest over each pouch.

I sat down in the chair with the cup as Mordecai removed his gloves, tucked them into his pocket, and put his hat down on the hat rack in the corner of the room. I noticed he didn't take off his fine green jacket. "Aren't you worried you'll get your coat dirty?"

"Hm?" the caracal said, then blinking like he had been half asleep or two worlds away. "Oh! No, not really. Art is always messy and I am quite good. Besides, anything that does get on it can be washed out with some dedication and creative thinking. I don't plan to use much, if any paints and colors for this endeavor, so the worst would be charcoal, I believe."

Mordecai sat down in the other chair and picked up a drawing tablet. He put it on the easel in front of him and pulled it closer, sitting up with his back straight and his eyes flicking to the paper and then to me.

"Alright, Simon," he began, "I want you to tell me what you saw. Details are key. Try to remember everything you saw about the man, not the moment. Pause the scene in your mind and tell me what you see. Just talk, and if I need clarification I will say so."

I shifted my weight in the chair and gripped the arms, chewing my lower lip. This was going to be weird, and uncomfortable, but this would hopefully help us figure out who Spring Heeled Jack was.

"Well," I began and swallowed. "He was a man..." I had paused to take a drink of the water next to me. It tasted off, but then water could be like that. Gradually, I felt my heart race as we began.

And thus began my explanation of that night, the night where everything went upside down. I did what Mordecai asked of me, I stopped the moment in my mind and let it freeze there for me to take in. It was the moment before the poor tiger died -- it was hard to not mentally look at him. The level of fear on his face, knowing that death was about to come and claim him and it be delivered by a terrible monster like this no less...

No, I had to think about Jack, not the victim. He was hard to look at, really look at, even in my mind's eye. It was like looking at the sun... I didn't _want_to see any details. I didn't want to see his mask or those claws. They were triggering some kind of fear deep down in me, the kind of primitive fear where I wanted to run and hide under a bed.

All through these moments, I heard Mordecai speaking to me, guiding me. His voice was there like what I imagined God's would be if I was ever blessed, or cursed, to hear him.

"Do not look away, Simon," the cat instructed. "Look at him! Stare at the details. Tell me what you see."

"I... It's hard. He's about to kill someone." My voice sounded strained. I knew if I opened my eyes I would stop the memory and probably be too cowardly to try again. This thing had been haunting me. It had taken Avery. I felt fear and anger bubbling up in my chest. "He... He was naked... aroused."

"Ah," Mordecai said with a knowing 'mmhmm'. "That is how you know he was a man," he added as if filling in the obvious blanks. "Was he completely naked? Did he not wear anything?"

"N-No... Wait, yes. Ah... kind of...? He... He..."

"Do not stop Simon," Mordecai said with a firmer voice. "You are right there, lad. Do not let your fear dominate you. You are so much better than that. You, who have seen the demon that had plagued our city. Tell us of the man you saw."

"He had on a mask!" I croaked out, gulping for air as I had been holding it. "And it looks like... metal. Fangs, red eyes..." What was happening? It was like I was right there again. I could smell the dampness in the air, the way the moonlight hit the metal on his arm.

"Claws!" I yelled out, clenching my eyes closed tighter. "They were so long! So much longer than natural claws! Metal and dangerous. Pointy! There's got metal going up his arm to his elbow almost. He has his arm up to strike!"

"Go on! Keep going, Simon." The caracal goaded me into giving up more and more about this horrific vision in front of me.

"Naked. Muscled. He's... not saying anything, but he looks like he's enjoying himself, but hating it. He's angry. He's moving like someone with anger would..." A sharp pain pierced my head, and I held my head in my hand, the other hand gripping the armrest, as I took a deep breath. "I... I need to stop. Let me stop this!"

"No!" Mordecai shouted. "You are almost done. Keep going! What else do you see?"

I let go of the armrest and bunched my firsts up into balls, pushing them into my clenched eyes, leaning forward and rocking back and forth. My heart hammered and I felt my brow wet with sweat. My whole body was sweating, actually. It was almost enough to pull me out of the memory, but Mordecai spoke once more and pushed me back in.

"He... had funny ears. They were long... But pointed..." I shuddered again, teeth clenched. "Short tail... Golden fur..." I began to shake and felt my stomach twist and turn, the apple I had eaten from the bath house was making my stomach ache. I thought I was going to throw up.

"So much blood... So much... Oh God!"

I screamed and threw myself back into the chair. Gasping, coming out of the memory, and into the warm and comforting glow of the study. I could hear the fire and the sound of a hand moving across paper. I was soaked head to toe in sweat. I slumped back and my heart was pounding. I was not in front of Spring Heeled Jack anymore. I didn't have to look at him.

"I apologize, Simon," Mordecai said from behind his picture. He sounded calm. And cold.

"I did not mean to make you suffer like that. But it was imperative I know what you saw. Your drink has been laced with a memory medicine of my own design. If someone is concentrating hard enough and being coached from the outside they can almost relive the moment. It is a bit hard on the heart, but you survived it. I'm very impressed with you, Simon."

"W...what?" I said, blinking my eyes lazily. Exhaustion had come over me and all I wanted to do was sleep. "Why...would you do that? I was going to tell you everything anyway."

"As I said." The cat finished up his piece and put down the charcoal. "I needed to make certain of what you saw, and the best way to do that and get rid of any of the false images you may have prescribed to the memory was to force you to relive it. If I had told you what was in the drink, you wouldn't have taken it and you could have shared with me false information."

"That doesn't matter! You don't just drug someone like that, even if it's important to catch a killer! Bensley is going to be furious about this when I tell him."

"Do you want to see?" Mordecai said, as if he hadn't heard my protests. He peered around the side. "I believe I have the image you described down on paper."

The caracal removed the tablet from the easel and turned it around to face me. A jolt of fear ran down my spine as I looked at Spring Heeled Jack in all the terror that he was. Mordecai was good, I have to admit. The cat in the picture was as muscled as I remembered, and the gauntleted claw was deadly. Maybe a little too long than what I remembered, and a bit more detailed near the wrist... but I looked at it and shivered.

"That's what I saw."

"Keep looking, Simon. Make sure."

I forced myself to look at the picture again and took it all in. The way the cat was looming to strike and end his victims life, the scared tiger against the wall with the bleeding stripes, the hand up to shield his face, Jack's tail being short and his ears...

"Wait," I said. "I never... told you about the victim."

Mordecai said nothing. And then I saw it. Those tufted ears. The golden fur. All at once, everything came crashing down around me, and I swear I almost went insane. There was no way this was real. There was no way I could be this unlucky.

"I do believe," Mordecai began, stroking the easel, "I should say it is a pleasure to finally put a face to the Witness, Simon. I have so much to talk to you about." The cat put the picture down and grinned charmingly. "I am happy that all the pieces would come together so seamlessly."

Instinct took over and my foot shot out and kicked the table with all the drawing instruments over. I was up on my feet and running out of the room, slamming the door behind me as I rushed to my friends. I had to get to Gideon, to Bensley. We had to get out of here.

"Gideon!" I screamed, rushing over and almost slipping on a rug. I watched as the hulking wolf got up holding some kind of glass bottle full of powder. The flash powder for a camera? He also had in his hands one of those slide shutters for the film we saw when we got our picture taken. Was Bensley teaching him to take photographs?

"Simon?" Gideon tilted his head to the side. "What..."

"He's HERE!" I screamed, barreling into him and curling my arms around his waist, pushing my face into his chest. "He's HERE HE'S HERE!!"

"Who... Who is?" I heard the warble in Gideon's voice. He knew...

"Spring Heeled Jack! It's Lord Crossbell!"

"What are you talking about...?" Gideon said and looked up and over my shoulder. I saw his ears fold back a bit and put his arm around me, turning to put me behind him. I pulled away and looked.

Mordecai was standing there in the hallway looking bored. He had his white gloves on and his top hat and a cane I had never seen before. It looked to be some kind of metal animal head clutched in his palm. He tapped the metallic end to the floor and cleared his throat. "Simon," he said calmly. "We were not done, and I have so much I need to tell you."

"So it's true then?" asked Gideon, with disbelief in his voice. "It was... you? You? A noble?"

Annoyance flashed across Mordecai's face as he looked from me to Gideon, and it was like he was truly looking at Gideon for the first time. He tilted his chin up and exhaled slowly. "If we are to do it this way, then so be it. Yes, I am this fearful demon that haunts London. I am the man everyone has called Spring Heeled Jack.

"But do not get myself and the persona of Jack confused. Jack is merely a mechanism in which I can explore my mortality in an unfiltered and unfettered environment. Where my name, my position, my wealth mean nothing. I do not think I am invincible, and I am clearly aware someone with a well-timed pistol can end me with a lucky shot."

"You... You killed children. It wasn't like it was a fair fight!" I shouted at him, gritting my teeth together.

Mordecai frowned and shook his head. "You, Simon, should know that life is hardly fair. That we are dealt fates and positions unequal. You and I can be no more different than one another in terms of wealth, status, species, homelife, families, and what did I do for such a boon? Nothing. Life is unfair. The people I have killed are aware of that disparity and should be ready for such imbalanced challenges to come their way. Clearly I have overestimated the people of London."

I stared at the cat, angry. I had no idea the man behind the mask, the person who was so twisted could be this controlled. He did stare at me and me alone. I had no idea why he was so intent on talking with me. We all knew his secret now...

We heard the steps from the hallway behind Mordecai and saw, of all people, Bensley round the corner holding a candelabra upside down like a club. He looked around at everyone, from Mordecai to Gideon and I. He looked puzzled. "I heard someone screaming, then shouting. What is going on, Lord Crossbell?"

Mordecai slowly walked over and put his hand on the professor's shoulder, rubbing it gently and looking at him with a warm, friendly expression. "Professor, I cannot thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to come here today. You have brought my little quest to an end, and for that I am grateful. London is grateful. I can move on from canine boys of dark fur to other targets, other challenges. You have, once again, shown me freedom in a world that seeks to tie me down."

Bensley looked confused and was about to say something when suddenly, everything happened all at once. Mordecai grabbed his cane with both hands, one on the head and one at the top of the black neck, and twisted. A clicking sound echoed out and a long, pointed dagger was slid out from the wooden shaft. It was shaped like an ice pick.

Mordecai moved so fast that Bensley didn't have a chance. The raccoon was aging, never athletic, and far too wrapped up in his mind and imagination to ever consider someone would want to be violent with him. Mordecai moved with a dangerous speed and impaled the raccoon right in the stomach, angled upwards so the pointed end went up into his organs behind his rib cage. In a quick motion the cat had pulled the blade out and flicked the red droplets of blood onto the floor before the gush roared out of the wound, soaking Bensley's shirt and pants.

The raccoon coughed, gasped, and held the wound, stumbling backwards slowly and then falling onto his rear. He looked at Mordecai with a horrified expression, mouthing something. To this day, I do not know what he said. I remember screaming loudly, reaching for the man who had shown me kindness. I watched as blood flowed out of him and his face began to slacken.

Gideon, ever the pugilist, ran forward. The wolf with such agility that I had barely registered he was just a step away from Mordecai. Gideon brought his hand around and slammed it hard into the caracal's chin, then a heavy punch to his stomach before a follow up third blow, grabbing Mordecai's head and slamming his face into the raised knee.

Mordecai groaned, staggering backwards. Blood poured from his nose and he looked dazed for a moment, but held the blade in front of him. He licked his lips and along his teeth and stared right at Gideon, so bright and fiery. His face showed the expression of hunger. "You surprised me. You move like a warrior. I did not expect someone like you to be able to hit me."

"Yeah, I'm all full of surprises," Gideon said as he launched himself forward, swinging another blow for the cat. Mordecai ducked, dodged, weaved. He reconnected his cane into one implement and smacked the metal head right into Gideon's chin, making him stagger backwards.

"Do not think your initial blow is anything to be proud of," Mordecai said, spitting some blood from his mouth onto the floor. "You are good, but you lack refinement and tempering. You waste energy while you move. You will tire before I do and then you will die. Then I can have Simon."

"You KILLED my friend, tortured him!" I screamed, still clinging to the pillar as if it could stop this madness. I was crying but I was also scowling. Was this really happening?

"Your friend? The wolf boy?" Mordecai thought, reaching up and touching the fur line decoration at the base of his top hat. "Averton? No, Avery. Yes, Avery. I had not realized I was so lucky, Simon. He was fun. He put up with a lot more than I ever expected. When he died, I had to keep a part of him. Don't you recognize your friend's fur?"

It took me a moment to realize what he meant, and when my mind finally registered what had happened, I screamed. Not out of horror or of fear, but rage.

The fur line decoration was made with the fur taken from Avery's missing tail.

Avery had been on my mind for days, and I constantly wondered what had happened to him. And now, finding out that this... thing had kept a piece of him as a trophy, the realization made me see blood. I grabbed something heavy from the table nearest me, I think a precious stone, and was ready to charge Mordecai and it all. I was tired of being scared and running. I was, at that moment, ready to die.

But Gideon stepped in front of me and held his arm back to stop me. He growled low and kept his eyes on Mordecai, his tail fluffed out and his fur standing on end in rage. "Simon!" he snarled. "Don't you do something so stupid right now, ya hear?! You gotta get out. GO! You know what we were talking about?"

"No!" I said, trying to imagine running alone. Gideon was the last person in my life who I loved, the last person in this whole world who cared about me. How could I run, abandon him to this monster? "You can't ask me to do that you can't!"

"Simon!" he snarled again, keeping himself between Mordecai and myself. The caracal was rubbing his muzzle and watching us with an amused sort of expression on his face. "You need to do this! For everyone...for me! PLEASE, SIMON!" Gideon spared a brief look back at me. "You know I'll find you again, I swear! You think he's going to end me, Gideon, Leader of the Howler Boys?"

"You are propping yourself --" Mordecai began but Gideon lifted his foot and kicked the table that was between them at the cat. To his credit the feline looked surprised and stepped to the left.

"SHUT IT!" Gideon said. "You and I are gonna settle this, but Simon... Go. You know where. You know what you gotta do. I love you, and I'll find you. Now go!"

"I... I love you too, Gideon," I said with a croaked voice. "You better... you better come find me. You know where I'll be." And I turn to run.

"Wait!" Mordecai shouted. "Simon, don't you dare run!"

"Shut up, you bloody wanka. You bit off more than you can chew now, you idiot. I hope you know who you're messin' with," I heard Gideon say with the usual bravado in his voice, the toughness I had come to love about him.

Then -- a flash. I heard a crash of glass and an explosion. I stumbled forward and heard Mordecai scream in pain. I didn't look back, I couldn't. But I remembered... Gideon had been holding that jar of flash powder this whole time. He must have thrown it into the fireplace! The whole house was filled with white smoke. I coughed as I barreled out of the front door and looked back one last time.

"Gideon..." I muttered, choking back tears. I ran forward, vanishing into the crowd of London, making sure to get lost.

For the first time in a long, long time, I felt alone. I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, or maybe even die. But I knew I couldn't. I had a promise to keep.

I had to meet someone important in New York City.