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The jewel was something Dante had found while hunting in the Carpathian mountains. It had caught his eye as it was not a natural color of the surrounding environment of mostly dirt, rocks, and grey granite. He had it taken to a jeweler who worked for the English crown.
The stone was a Spessartite garnet and was very rare. Dante had the gemstone cut into a ten-carat-weight emerald cut and set in a gold beveled setting with a dragon's head on the top and secured with a thick rope chain. There was enough stone left that a second gem was cut to make a teardrop shape, and he created it into a necklace for Claire Desjardins.
A human girl who had stolen a vampire's demon heart. She was the love of Dante's life. He cast a spell that would bond the gems together. The individuals who wore gemstones could always sense each other's needs without asking.
He still didn't understand why the gemstone was calling to him, but the last place he left Claire was in London, so this was where his search would start.
"Carrick!" Dante bellowed.
The butler entered the Count's study." Yes, your Grace?"
"Send a servant down to the docks. Have him tell Captain Smith to get the sloop prepared to leave in the next couple of hours. Dante was eager to get underway. We are heading to London. I have urgent business there, and we need to dock in Dover by dawn."
"Carrick, send a pigeon to Dragonwood. Alert them. I need a carriage to meet us at the Port of Dover and take us directly to London. Make sure the Dragonwood staff knows to be ready for our arrival. Also, get yourself packed. You are going to accompany me on this trip. Giselle will handle things here in the chateau." The Count turned and left the butler to work on his last-minute instructions.
~~~
Christopher entered London's east side. It was a seedy and filthy place. The smell of piss and alcohol permeated the ground. Just six years earlier, there had been a series of murders on these streets. The man had taunted the community and police. He called himself The Ripper. They never caught the killer, and still today, women walked around scared for their lives. There was a lot of fear at this end of town. It was an easy place to become a victim.
Walking around the streets of Whitechapel, Christopher sensed things were not exactly right. He could easily detect death. Although, for this area of town, that was not uncommon. While wandering past a small alcove, Christopher saw multiple bodies on the ground, and one was an unclothed woman. The weather was too cold for someone to go without clothing and not freeze to death within a short time. On closer inspection, Christopher noticed that the throat of one man had been ripped out altogether. He turned to leave the alley. Only to find a policeman standing behind him.
"Aye, what are you doing there?" asked the officer.
"Fuck!" cursed Christoper under his breath. He had blood on his hands and a puncture wound in his thigh. He would look as good as guilty for the killings to authorities.
The officer stood scrutinizing Christopher's back. He knew of the man but wasn't sure why someone of his stature would be slumming in the east end. The officer looked past Christopher to see the corpses.
"Lord Thorn, is that you, Sir?" asked the young officer.
"Yes..., I'm Lord Thorn. What's your name, officer? Christopher had a frown on his face as he responded. The Lord gazed into the alley and was aggravated by being in this position, with three dead bodies piled in the alley and blood covering his hands.
"I'm Tommy York, Sir. May I ask what brings you to Whitechapel at this time of night?" He was fascinated to see what Lord Christopher Thorn would answer.
"I need to see the detective in charge of the night watch, Officer York. Can you tell me who that is?" Lord Thorn asked the young policeman. He still had his back to Tommy, staring at the carnage in the alley.
"It's Sir Reid. He's in charge tonight. Lord Thorn, Sir. If you don't mind, could you please turn around so I can see your face?" Office York asked Christopher.
Christopher hesitantly turned to face Tommy. The officer observed his disheveled appearance. And his hands, covered in blood, they looked black under the gas lamps in the street.
"Lord Thorn, I'm placing you under arrest for suspicion of murder." Officer York said to Christopher in a hesitant, shaky voice.
"Young man, before you get too far ahead of yourself and look foolish. I want to speak with Sir Edmund Reid, if you don't mind." Christopher stepped forward slowly with his bloodied hands out front where the officer could see them.
"You can speak with him when he interrogates you. Now come along, prisoner, and put on the irons." Tommy threw a set of chained cuffs on the ground for Christopher to put on himself, to which The Lord complied. He did not want to draw any unwanted attention or scare the officer and end up in a scuffle.
"Follow me to the wagon." The young officer led Christopher to the end of the block and opened the back of the police wagon. Christoper stepped in and took a seat. The door slammed shut, and he felt the carriage lurch forward as the horses pulled it toward Whitechapel's Commercial Street Police Station.
"Damn It! Jackson will never let me live this one down," Christopher cursed under his breath as he thought about having his friend arrive to bail him out of the station. This whole evening was turning into one ugly nightmare. Christopher was sure this was his punishment for his wife's recent death. Karma was coming to kick him in the ass.
The wagon halted, and Christoper almost toppled over off the bench seat. The doors swung open, and two pairs of hands reached in and roughly removed him from the back of the carriage, pushing Christopher inside the station. His nose wrinkled at the unpleasant smell of bodily fluids that filled the air. The stench was suffocating. It was crowded, dirty, and filled with cigar smoke.
The desk officer looked down from his raised seat and asked Christopher, "What's your name, prisoner?"
"Lord Christopher Samael Thorn II." He replied.
The portly man laughed, his belly jiggling under his unkempt uniform. "Oh, that's a good one. I needed a good laugh tonight. But what is your real name, Sir?" He was wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes as he waited for The Lord's answer.
"I just told you who I am. May I please see Sir Edmund Reid?" Christopher was aggravated by the officers. He was about to lose his temper, and things would get hostile.
"Put this one in the clink till we figure out who he is." said the desk officer to the jailer.
"Come along with me," said the man in a calm, composed voice to Christopher. He followed the jailer to the holding cell and stepped into a small space filled with drunks, thieves, and the east end's dregs.
Christopher stood quietly in the back corner of the cell and spoke to no one. His mind thought back on the recent events of the past few days as he waited for Sir Edmund. The Lord wondered what he could have done differently to prevent his current situation.