Chasing Jack

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⏳ 1888

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⏳ 1888

Night had descended

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Night had descended. Biting winds whipped around my face. Light snow fell from a dark sky, powdery ice adorning the footpaths. A train wailed in the distance from the other side of the city. Flames in the lamp posts flickered uneasily. Society cowered away.

The Autumn of Terror tormented a frightened city for months now. London was plunged into shadow and fear. A killer stalked the darkness. The brothels of Whitechapel were warm and safe by comparison to its streets, where prostitutes were being mutilated and left on grotesque display for all to see. The people were terrified for who was going to be next.

"Stop! Remain where you are this instant! This is the police!"

I watched as a coated man in a top hat raced into alleyway, police in navy blue hot on his tail, blowing their whistles.

They weren't going to catch him. He'd just committed his third murder, and they still hadn't managed to throw him in their cells. Either it was shoddy police work or the killer was as sly as a fox. I knew the answer, of course, but the former was a big contributor to the problem.

"No wonder they never caught him," I mumbled. "They couldn't catch a killer if it was right under their noses."

Eilian chuckled next to me. "Well, in this case it seems like Jack was."

I glanced at him. "Should we give them a hand? We'll be doing Freddie a favour."

Eilian's blue eyes flicked to another alleyway where more whistles pierced the night's silence. And then he shrugged. "Yeah, why not." As I went to leave, he grasped my arm. "Be careful."

I pecked him on the lips and grinned. "When am I not?"

And with that, I headed to the other end of the rooftop and dived off into a portal.

I tucked and rolled when I touched ground, landing with a thud on my boots, the cobblestones cold and wet to the touch. I breathed warmth into my gloved hands. I peeked around the corner of the alley I'd landed in. The square was quiet. Only the cold song sung by the wind echoed.

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