~

The streets of Bethnal Green were quiet at this time of night, even with the raucous Whitechapel neighborhood just to the south. It was as if crossing the border between the two neighborhoods involved passing through an unseen curtain separating respectability and debauchery.

The man dressed all in black walking toward that unseen curtain could be none other than the Ripper.

Charlotte stood her ground until he drew nearer, leaning heavily on her walking stick. Even before they were near enough to speak, she could smell him, as though Mathias's spell had turned her into a bloodhound. And it was, quite literally, the scent of blood, old and thick, that she smelled on him. Underlying that was decay, and a little deeper, sulfur.

The Ripper wasn't just a killer. He was a warlock, th...

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