Rebecca had grown up in Northwest, in one of the many coal mining towns that dotted the hills near Lancashire. She could remember washing her father’s clothes when he returned from the pits, remembering how his attire was always tarnished with the black of coal dust.

She could remember its presence upon their plates and cooking wear, could remember the gritty filth that covered every surface, the pollution that could be felt within her lungs with every inhale.

More hours of her adolescent life had been dedicated to the elimination of this blackness. She hated the shade, the very absence of light. First, she had hated it because of the coal mines and now she hated it because it reminded her of death.

First, her father; with the mines taking his life.

Then her mother; who hadn’t been able to thrive in a London sugar factory.

Now, it had taken her sister, killed doing what she could to endure in a city that didn’t want her.

Rebecca wore black today, a colour she despised but one that everyone else attached to the shade of mourning and remorse. She tugged at the sleeves of her uncomfortable and ill-fitted gown, hating how her attire felt, hating the colour as it touched her skin.

It was like a miasma of misery had entered through the weave and filled every thread within this cloth.

Though most of all, she hated the situation she was in.

Before her were a pair of men, volunteers from a local church. They shovelled dirt upon a plain wooden box. It had been closed the entire time. In attendance was herself and a few of the other girls who had known Angela in life.

A detective had also shown up, probably as a courtesy to her. Though he looked dreadfully awkward, standing away from those who had actually known her sister.

The priest had finished with his sermon long ago, an Anglican who could hardly spare the time to say his words and was gone the moment the coffin had settled within the hole. But the girls stated that they had never heard a more beautiful ceremony, nor had they heard such touching verses from the scripture.

Rebecca had thanked them but knew that none of them believed it themselves.

They were the ladies of the night, after all, spit upon by Anglican in their Sunday masses. Daughters of God led astray in a manner that was irredeemable.

Before she spiralled too far down this path of self-loathing, a hand brushed against her arm. Rebecca nearly flinched, though paused as she noticed that it was only Sarah.

Sarah offered a feeble smile. “Hey, do you want to get out of here? You’re starting to look pretty done with this place.”

“I…” Rebecca sighed. “I should probably wait until they’ve finished burying her.”

“I’m sure no one will mind,” Sarah replied. She reached down and seized Rebecca’s hand, holding it gently. “No one handles funerals well and I honestly think you were about to bore holes through that priest with how hard you were glaring at him.”

“I was glaring at him?” Rebecca asked.

Sarah nodded.

Of course, she had. She must’ve really been off kilter if her emotions were coming through so clearly.

“I just…” Rebecca sighed. “You know how those types of people are?”

“Judgemental as thou but a bunch of hypocrites. I know for a fact he probably would’ve hired us in a heartbeat if respectable people weren’t around,” Sarah replied.

Rebecca nodded though paused.

“Wait,” she said, cocking a brow. “You’ve been hired by a priest before?”

Sarah chuckled. “Plenty of times. Probably made quite a few of them retreat to a confession booth afterwards.”

“Those are Catholics,” Rebecca interjected. “Anglicans don’t do confession.”

Sarah shrugged. “Catholics, Anglicans, Protestants, they’re all bastards when it comes to our line of work.” She smirked. “Though I did have a visit from an Arab priest once. Now, that guy was a gem. Complete and utter gentleman.”

“Bullshit,” Rebecca said though she smirked. “You’re telling me that you had a Muslim visitor to your apartment?”

“My reputation goes far and wide,” Sarah retorted. “Sarah of Clark Station, known for giving the best head from the tea groves of Bombay all the way to the streets of New York. I’m the stuff of legends, dear.”

Now Rebecca really couldn’t help but snicker.

Before she knew it, they were slinking away from the little plot of land in the cemetery.

Rebecca followed Sarah’s lead towards the gated exit. It seemed like the other girls had just been waiting for an excuse as they also started to drift off, leaving the two volunteers to finish with their work.

“How about I buy you a drink?” Sarah asked. “I know this little coffeehouse down by the harbours. It’s owned by an Italian family. Has all sorts of interesting things to try out.”

Rebecca nodded. “Sure.”

They moved through the streets where people gave them passing glances.

Rebecca felt extremely seen and an embarrassed heat filled her cheeks. That is, until she realized that she was still wearing her mourning colours and they were extremely close to a cemetery.

They were pitying gazes, not hostile ones. A small concession at the very least.

“Do you think that Angela would’ve liked the ceremony?” Rebecca asked.

Sarah snorted. “I mean I’m sure she would’ve preferred if it was for someone else. But it was fine. The priest said his words, a bunch of her friends showed up, and no one was drunk. What more can you ask for when you’re getting buried?”

Rebecca should’ve honestly been offended by how crass her friend was. But she also found it endearing. It was hard to find a person who wasn’t treating her like a delicate egg that was ready to crack under a stiff breeze.

“So, how did the interview go?” Sarah asked.

Rebecca cocked a brow but then it dawned on her.

“Oh, with Carl?” she asked. “It went as well as it could. He just asked for all of the details that the detectives were after.”

“He?” Sarah asked. “But…”

Rebecca held up a hand. “I learned that the situation is more complicated than I assumed. The point is, he just wanted some information and it can’t hurt to have a few more people out looking for this monster.”

“Well, he can’t be any worse than the detectives,” Sarah grumbled. “I swear they’re too busy gawking at us girls to actually do something about the man who’s trying to kill us.”

Rebecca shook her head. She didn’t want to say that was a Sarah problem but she knew for a fact that none of the detectives were looking up her skirt. Though, who knew, maybe they just had the slimmest amount of tact imaginable when it came to a victim’s family member.

“So…” Sarah started. “Did he offer you a job?”

“He did,” Rebecca said. “It was… I…” She sighed and shook her head. “The request was strange. He’s apparently getting paid by some rich Indian noblewoman to protect ladies of the night.”

“That is…” Sarah snorted. “That’s probably the most far-fetched story that I’ve ever heard. And what exactly was the job he was offering?”

“Didn’t really ask for details,” Rebecca said. “My guess is probably information? You know, keep my ear to the street and what not.”

“Well, if it pays well…” Sarah began.

Rebecca shook her head. “I’d very much like to avoid danger if at all possible.”

“Hey.” Sarah shrugged. “You’re probably safer with an American Cowboy than you are with us. Plus, if this guy is genuine then we’d all be safer if he’s doing the best job he can.”

“And if he’s scamming me?” Rebecca asked.

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know. Grab his wallet and run?”

Rebecca snorted.

Just take the wallet of an armed American gunslinger and run. What a fantastic idea.

Right up there with sticking your hand in a lion’s mouth.

“It just feels like the story is far too good to be true,” Rebecca said. “This is like a client who offers to house you if you’re willing to go steady with them. Sounds good on paper but…”

“They’re usually massive assholes?” Sarah asked.

Rebecca nodded.

Sarah shrugged. “Well, I’m personally the kind of girl who falls for a good story.”

They stood outside of a coffee shop. The air smelled heavily of freshly roasted beans and there were all manner of individuals sitting outside and enjoying drinks that looked far more exotic than what she’d normally drink.

A few of them looked at her though they were at least far enough away from the burial that their gazes had tapered to a mundane boredom.

“Plus,” Sarah added, making sure to keep her voice low as they entered. “Wouldn’t you like to take a shot at the Ripper?”

The interior smelled even richer than the outside.

Two men stood behind a counter and were operating all sorts of intricate machines. They didn’t seem to pay attention to the assorted patrons who waited, instead leaving that to a woman who ushered them over one by one.

“I mean, wouldn't any of us,” Rebecca grumbled.

Sarah nodded. “See, so why not take the chance? You’ll kick yourself if you don’t find out if this guy is genuine or not.”

Rebecca pondered it for a moment. The story did sound pretty far fetched but Carl was a pretty far fetched character. Plus, why would he bother coming all the way to London to pull a scam when there were dozens of American cities that would’ve done the job nicely.

She finally sighed. “Fine, I’ll visit him this afternoon.”

---

Rebecca stood outside of the familiar hotel, looking up at the signage.

It was strange. In all of her years of work, she had never been to a place like this before. In fact, she had never been taken to any sort of hotel by any of her clients.

They seemed nice and she envied Sarah for being able to nab patrons who could afford such venues.

She stepped inside and reached into her bag, pulling out the little business card from Carl. It was now smudged with grit and bent around the edge but was still more than readable.

A different bellhop was manning the front desk, looking bored as he stared down at his hands.

Rebecca approached and waited for him to look up. When he did, she offered a polite smile.

“Can I help you?” the bellhop asked.

Rebecca offered the card. “I’m here to see Carl Le Blanc.”

The bellhop looked at the card and carefully took it, giving it a once over. He then handed it back to Rebecca and motioned towards the seating area.

“Mister Le Blanc is out at the moment though he did say he’d be back in a little while,” he said.

Rebecca nodded and went over the comfy sofa, plopping down upon it. She looked down at her blue dress and smoothed it out, hoping she looked her best for what was about to come.

Why was she so worried? He literally offered her the job already.

…

Because she’d never worked a real job before?

Rebecca sighed.

She glanced at the door, counting down the seconds in her head.

Why hadn’t she brought a book or newspaper or something to pass the time?

Because those things cost money. Money, she didn’t have beforehand and definitely didn’t have now.

Second became minutes and surely minutes began to push into the realm of an entire hour. But just as her mental fortitude was wavering, the door to the hotel opened and two figures entered.

One of them was the familiar cut of Carl Le Blanc. He looked fatigued and his clothes were marked by filth and grime. There was grit upon his face though he still managed a proud smile.

The other figure was very different. He was taller than both of them and wore a rather modest suit. He looked clean, unlike his associate, seeming unscathed by whatever adventure they had partook in. What separated him the most, from either of them however, was the fact that he… well… he wasn’t Anglo-Saxon. Nor even European.

They started to walk towards the bellhop, though the man behind the counter pointed towards Rebecca.

Carl looked taken aback but turned towards her. As he noticed her, he flashed a cocksure smile.

“Oh Rebecca!” he drawled. “Glad to see you came back. Have you thought about that job I was offering?”

“It’s been on my mind,” Rebecca admitted. “Having a steady income would be appreciated right about now and my flatmate did bring up the excellent point that I’d probably be safer with a gunslinger than on the streets by myself.”

Carl nodded. “Well, I wasn’t much of a gunslinger, back in the States, but I can make sure you stay safe.”

“What would the work be?” Rebecca asked.

Carl looked around the lobby and then motioned towards the stairs.

“We can talk about that in my room,” he explained. “Feels weird chatting about business down in the lobby.”

He moved towards the stairs and Rebecca followed. Though her gaze was on the other man present.

“This is Abe,” Carl introduced, pointing towards him. “He’s going to be working with us on this little pet project.”

“Pleasure,” Rebecca said, bowing her head slightly.

Abe grunted. “Likewise.”

Though his tone spoke very differently.

“Don’t worry, he’s that standoffish with everyone he meets,” Carl teased, patting his friend on the back. “Isn’t that right, Abe?”

Abe snorted. “Sure thing, Carl.”

They made it up the stairs and down to a door further along the hall.

Carl pulled out a key and opened it, ushering for his guests to go in before slipping in himself.

“So, the work,” Carl began as he locked the door.

Rebecca nodded. “The work.”

“I know pretty everything that the detectives know about this case. That is unless they’ve gotten better at hiding their information,” Carl explained. “What I haven’t got is all the information that the girls on the street have.” He motioned with his hand. “And I’m not just talking about the Ripper, I’m talking about which clients to avoid, which streets to not be caught on, who’s a bad John…” He looked at Rebecca. “That kind of stuff, you know?”

“So, you want me to act as your informant?” Rebecca asked.

Carl nodded and moved over to the room’s only table. Upon it were several glasses, a bottle of gin, a spritzer of tonic, and a jar with limes inside. With these he started to prepare three beverages.

“Then when we have enough information, me and Abe can crack down on the worst offenders,” he explained. “Hopefully after they’ve been dealt with, the lesser villains will learn their place soon enough. I can promise you that the money is better than anything that you’d be making doing your former line of work.”

“And you promise that you’re going after the Ripper?” Rebecca asked.

Carl nodded. “Just as soon as enough information presents itself. In the meantime, there are a lot of other folks who me and Abe need to attend to.”

He approached with a cocktail and offered one to both Rebecca and Abe.

Rebecca took hers and muttered a thank you. She took a gentle sip, savouring the flavour of pricey liquor and mix. It was a treat she was not very familiar with.

Abe took his in resolute silence, merely nodding his thanks.

“Can I ask you a question?” Rebecca asked.

Carl nodded. “I’d be more surprised if you didn’t ask any at all.”

Rebecca traced her finger around the side of her glass, trying to figure out the best way to put this.

“What are your employer’s motives?” she finally asked. “Don’t get me wrong, they sound noble but…”

Abe snorted. “A bit far-fetched?”

Rebecca nodded.

Carl pulled out a chair and took a seat.

He then shook his head. “I wish I knew. I have about a hundred theories but nothing concrete.”

“What are some of your theories?” Rebecca asked. “The best ones.”

“If I had to guess it might have something to do with the subcontinent,” Carl said, sighing. “Maybe she was born to the wrong caste or something like that. Was supposed to end up like you but got diverted to another role in life by some form of intervention. Now she’s helping out because she knows how close she was to being like you girls.”

“I see,” Rebecca replied.

Carl shook his head. “But that’s just my theory. For all I know, she might just have a soft spot for people in danger or maybe this is just some strange act of penance she’s partaking in?”

Abe loomed by the window, staying silent as he looked out upon the street. This was the first time that Rebecca noticed that he wore some sort of scabbard at his side.

He truly was a striking figure to look at.

“Or maybe she’s hoping to cut into the business, herself, and some goodwill could do wonders in that regard,” Carl continued. In the end, he shook his head. “But the truth is, I have absolutely no idea what vested interest she has in all of this.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Rebecca said.

Carl snorted. “I just wish I had more to give you. But…” He held a hand to his chest. “You have my word that I fully intend to apply myself in handling the Ripper.”

Rebecca nodded. “Then I’m in.”

Carl grinned and tilted back his glass, downing its contents in a matter of seconds.

“In that case, thank you very much, Rebecca,” he said, clapping his glass down. “You’ve just made me a very happy man.”

Abe snorted. “So, now we’re actually confirmed to be at three?”

“Sounds like it,” Carl said, pointing at him. “See, I told you I could find us a team.”

“A disgraced swordsman, a failed cowboy, and a streetwalker.” Abe snorted. “What a team you’ve gathered, Carl,” he grumbled. “And what are we up against exactly?”

“Several gangs, a few perverted nobles, and a sociopath who has it out for all the ladies of the night in the city,” Carl replied.

Rebecca smirked. “You two make it sound so hopeless.”

“That was my intention,” Abe retorted.

“Well, here’s a fun fact about teaming up with an American,” Carl beamed, pointing at her. “We have ceaseless optimism when it comes to pretty much anything.”

He then grabbed the bottle of gin.

“Anyways, how about another round to celebrate our new partnership?”

---

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