Bedlam Murders: Prologue

Thunderstorms were not particularly unusual for Bedlam at that time of year. So that first one, which appeared so suddenly at the onset of night, aroused no suspicion. Not even the greatest magicians of the city noticed anything unnatural within it on that first night. It was only in the following nights that they began to see what the storms brought.

But on that first night the storm caused no comment. The people of Bedlam went about as they would for any other storm. Those who had to be out at night grumbled over the inconveniences caused by such weather. The cab drivers were happy for the increased business that they were likely to get and the various merchants and shopkeepers of the streets complained over the probable loss of business, an irritating but not unusual occurrence during a thunderstorm.

Madame Bellweed was certainly irritated as she packed up her stall of potions on Hedgewitch Row. The weather would cost her a full night's income just as she needed to pay the rent. But the weather couldn't be helped and Madame Bellweed was old enough to accept the whims of nature.

And so it was that even though Madame Bellweed was a witch of more than common skill, she did not notice the shadow which had been hidden in the storm. She did not see it moving until it had surrounded her. Did not see the figures emerge from it until a single flash of lightning lit up the cold steel of the knife that the nearest held. Did not even have time to scream as the knife slit her throat.

Across town, in an elegant bedroom far removed from Hedgewitch Row, a young woman sat up, wide-eyed in her bed. Nightmare visions of blood and shadow and an old woman's terrified face still whirled before her eyes, remnants of her sleep of moments before. Of all the thousands of people in Bedlam that night, she was the only one who knew: A horror had come.