Chapter 31
He stifled a maddening giggle. They still had no idea, no matter what they claimed to the papers. No matter that he’d taunted them and sent them all sorts of lovely presents across the post. Not a clue.
A doctor, that was their latest idea. That he was some leech with a leather bag full of delicate, gleaming instruments. A laugh, that was. And how fool-headed could they be, printing every damn thing in the papers, anyways? Did they think he didn’t read? Couldn’t hear the gossip? Did they think that, between hunts, he hid away in some dark and lonesome cellar and was blind and deaf to the world, like some fat bear?
They’d like that, wouldn’t they, the boss-nobs? Think of him as a beast, an animal. Monster, he heard the whispers. Monster. Monster. Nothing but a ravening animal. Better a ravener, better a ripper, than the ripped.
And he was becoming. More. Greater than the sum of his parts.
Maybe it was the eating. A little more than he was before.