The House That Jack Built by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

“Yes. And landed right in the middle of the Ansar Majlis terror, instead.” Kit scrubbed at his lower face with one sweat-begrimed hand. “We have to get back to TT-86. We’ll sleep here tonight, set out first thing in the morning. I’m afraid we’ll be riding hard, to make it back to Denver in time to catch the gate. Can you keep up?” He glanced from Paula to Kaederman.

Paula Booker thinned her lips. “I’ll cope. The last thing I want to do is stay here. I’ve had about as much vacation as I can stand, this year.”

Kit turned his attention to Kaederman. “I’d suggest you try pain pills for those muscle cramps, or we’ll leave you behind.”

“I’ll take the pills,” Kaederman growled. “And when this is over, I am never setting foot down another gate in my life! I hate it!”

“Suits me,” Skeeter muttered.

Kit’s hard-eyed gaze met Skeeter’s. “Well, Jackson, looks like you’ll be going to London, after all.”

“Great,” Skeeter groused. “Jack the Ripper and the Ansar Majlis. Just my cup of tea. Anybody want to place a bet on what the senator has to say about all this?”

He didn’t have a single taker.

Chapter Seven

The stalk was in James Maybrick’s blood, hot fire that only the red stuff of a life pouring out across his hands could quench. The wild night, with its gusting rainshowers and biting cold winds, spoke to the demons raging in his soul. It called them forth, hungering and slavering, until they ran barefooted through the flames of his own private hell. She shall pay! By God, the bitch shall pay, her and her whoremaster both! All London knows my work, now, and she trembles with fear when people speak of Sir Jim’s deeds. Soon, I will pay her the same as I gave the others, whores all . . . and my knife will drink the bitch’s blood, as well . . . Maybe I’ll take her before I rip her open . . . take her while her whoremaster watches, then rip them both, God damn them!