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Edward steps back, his sardonic grin wobbling into an expression of actual terror. In his ghost form, Abberline could actually hurt him. I notice an outline of a revolver in his pocket.
I start to step in between them, but Edward rallies, his eyes burning with passion. He flies at Abberline and grabs his collar. “Now, you listen to me, Detective Abberline, you may have a completely legitimate bone to pick with this crowd of Ripperologists making their coin off your name, but we arehere. And I have something you don’t have.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?” Abberline snaps back, but his eyes flicker with fear.
“An inflated sense of my own importance.” Edward gestures to Pax. “And a savage warrior who has the power to churn your spleen into a lovely ball of mozzarella cheese if you don’t cooperate.”
Pax cracks his knuckles gleefully.
Go, Edward!
“Fine, fine,” Abberline grumbles, waving his arm as he floats across the square. “Let’s talk at the pub. But I ain’t paying.”
* * *
We squeezeinto a booth at the old pub on the corner. Inspector Abberline makes me order him a pint of dark ale so he can sniff it.
“You know,” Abberline settles back into the booth, his ass hovering over the seat, “everyone thinks the Ten Bells is the pub the Ripper frequented, but Polly Nichols and Annie Chapman more often than not drank in this very establishment. Kate Eddowes would often be at the piano, entertaining the place with a rousing song or a murder ballad. She had a beautiful voice.”
He bends down and sticks his nose into the neck of his glass.
“Ah,” Edward snaps his fingers. “Let me show you a trick. If you want to get the sensation of being mildly inebriated, then all you have to do is—”
I hold up a hand. “Before the two of you get drunk on ghost fumes and blow all the bulbs in this place, we’re going to have our talk.”
“Ah, yes.” Abberline takes a long sniff of his beer. “What does a girl who can speak to ghosts want with me?”
“The thing is…” I take a deep breath. “Jack the Ripper is after me.”
I expect Abberline to react in some way. But all he does is sigh and fiddle with his policeman’s pad. “So those fanatical bastards brought him back again?”
“Wait, what do you mean,again?”
“You know of this monster?” Ambrose leans forward eagerly.
“Just a minute.” Abberline leans over and sniffs his drink before continuing. “I have information you want. If I give you answers, what do I get in return?”
I blink. Is heshittingme? “What do you mean?”
Abberline’s face breaks into a terrifying, genuine smile. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know…for a fee.”
“You’re a man of the law. And a ghost. What kind of fee can you possibly accept?” I growl. “Fine. I promise that you can come back to our room with us, and I’ll order all your favourite dishes from UberEats so you can sniff them—”
“That’s not what I’m after.” Abberline shoots back. “You’re going to bring me back to life.”
I reel away, shocked.
How does he know?
Pax leans across the table, his fist menacingly close to Abberline’s face. “How do you know of Bree’s power? Are you working for the monster?”
“Please, I recognise a Roman warrior dressed in modern garb when I see one.” Abberline pinches his nose. “Even as a ghost, your breath reeks.”
“I’mnotthe vicious and bloodthirsty Roman centurion Pax Drusus Maximus.” Pax doesn’t move his fist as he struggles to remember the cover story I have drilled into his head. “I’m…a humble Italian tourist here to sample Britain’s fine cuisine.”
“You’re a bloody Roman, sandals and all.” Abberline turns to me. “And if I’m not mistaken, the gentleman sitting opposite me is from my own time. I’m right, aren’t I? You brought them back from the dead. You’re likehim.”
“Like who? Father Bryne?”
