She couldn’t look at Costain. The Ripper might come for the rest of them at any moment. Costain would be considering the very real possibility of suddenly being sent to Hell, at any moment. If she was in his shoes, what would she do? Would she immediately do her best to go and take the object, right away, intending to use it to protect herself? Or would she use it to bring back their colleague and friend, not just because he was their colleague and friend but because, in dying, he might have discovered information that could save them all? Or would she give it to her lover, so that a dead father might be returned to life? Not that there would be happiness for that lover in any of these outcomes.

The meth pumped up every negative she felt. She couldn’t look at him because she would always be looking at the calculations on his face now. But she also could not let him out of her sight. She made herself look. She saw him only looking back with concern for her. But she kept on looking.

*   *   *

Sefton was watching Costain and Ross. He wanted to ask what could possibly be going on between the two of them that they seemed distracted from Quill’s death. But he was full of grief and guilt, and he couldn’t be sure of anything he might glimpse around the edge of that. His ridiculous presumptions of occult defence had failed entirely. Quill had looked to him to be the specialist, and his so-called expertise had provided him with a few stupid trinkets. The Ripper might come for the rest of them at any moment, and there was nothing he could do about it. It almost felt as if he’d killed again.

‘Listen to me,’ said Lofthouse. They all turned to her. The expression on her face was all business. They were not going to see her emotions. She was toying with that bloody key on her charm bracelet. Sefton wanted to shake her and demand to know what she knew that they didn’t. ‘We have every reason to think,’ she said, ‘that you three will be the Ripper’s next targets. Normally I’d say let’s get you into protective custody, but I think if I did that the results might be bloody terrifying, for you and for London. You’re going to need to look out for each other. Is that clear?’

They all nodded, numb. Sefton wondered exactly how they were supposed to do that.

‘What could you see that Dr Singh couldn’t?’

‘The body is, Jimmy is … covered in silver,’ began Sefton, haltingly, ‘head to toe. More than any of the others were.’ He’d felt the cold shining off Quill’s body.

‘Do we have a crime scene?’