“I was about to leave when I heard a scream. A dreadful scream. I stood there, frozen in my nook. Before long, Mr. Shanahan and his friend came out. They were talking about needing to ‘procure’ one more. As Mr. Shanahan escorted his friend to the door, I snuck down and peered into the dining room, expecting to see the poor woman dead on the floor. She wasn’t there.

“The table had been moved aside, and there were strange patterns on the floor, drawn in some fine powder, like salt or sand. And there were other things…Objects of…devil worship. That reminded me of something I’d overheard before this Whitechapel business began. They’d been talking about his friend’s father, of asking him for a boon and, when they spoke of him, they called him a demon. At the time, I thought they were simply being disrespectful to the old man. But after seeing that room, I had cause to wonder.

“A couple of weeks later, Mr. Shanahan seemed very agitated. He gave the staff the night off, and encouraged everyone to leave early. I pretended to leave, then returned. After dark, Mr. Shanahan’s friend arrived. Again they retreated to the dining room. I could hear bits of conversation, primarily Mr. Shanahan reassuring his friend that ‘it’ was ready, and he’d be safe there. At the right time, he would release the servants who would prepare things for his friend’s return, then they would carry out the final phases of their plan.

“Next, I heard Mr. Shanahan speaking in a strange tongue. I summoned my courage and cracked open the door. I peeked in just as Mr. Shanahan’s friend disappeared. One moment he was there. He took a step…and vanished. I was so startled I stumbled back. Mr. Shanahan heard me. I tried to flee, but he worked some sorcery on me. He dragged me into the dining room and flung me on that same spot where his friend had vanished. The last thing I remember was him saying, ‘We can use a third servant.’ Then all went black. When I awoke, I was stepping onto a street in another time…your time.”

We looked at one another.

“So,” Clay said, “what do you want from us?”

Hull stared at him. He’d just relayed the fantastical tale of his brush with demons, sorcerers, black magic, notorious serial killers and over a hundred years of suspended animation. Why weren’t we speechless with horror and amazement?

“You told us earlier you wanted something from us,” Clay said. “What is it?”

Jeremy shook his head at Clay, telling him to be patient.

“So you believe you were pushed through that portal while you were still alive, which explains why you aren’t a zombie,” Jeremy said.

“A zom-? Oh, yes, I see. I suppose that’s what they are.” Hull shuddered. “No, I’m quite certain I’m not one of those. Neither is he, though, and he is our main concern.”

“He being Jack the Ripper,”I said.

“Jack the-? Yes, he did call himself that once, didn’t he? Is that the name they kept for him? Suitably macabre, I suppose.”

“And you believe this friend of Edwin Shanahan, the real Jack, came out of that portal with you?”

“No, he didn’t.” Hull swung to his feet, trembling with agitation. “That’s what they’re trying to do. The rite, the one they need the letter for.”

“How do you know that?” Jeremy asked.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I know they want that letter. When I was hiding from them yesterday, I overheard the man say something to the woman about getting it back.”

“To free this killer? They said that?”

Hull ’s brows knitted as he looked at Jeremy. “No, but that must be the reason, mustn’t it? That’s their purpose, to act as his servants. This killer can’t have come through yet or they would be serving him, not Mr. Shanahan’s grandson.”

“Great-grandson, presumably,” Jeremy murmured.

Hull nodded. “I suppose it has been that long, hasn’t it?” He went silent, eyes downcast.

“If he isn’t through yet, then we really need to close that portal,” I said. “As quickly as possible. So how do we do that?”

Hull looked at me as if I’d just asked him how to turn off the moon. “I-I have no idea. I thought you knew how to close it. That’s why you’re still here, isn’t it? Trying to close it and set things right?”

Clay made a noise deep in his throat. “In other words, you’re just here to warn us that yet another catastrophe might strike if we don’t fix this damned thing.”

“Perhaps I can do more than that. If I could lure in a zombie, would that help?”

“You still haven’t told us what you want in return,” Clay said.

“I was hoping for your assistance.”

“With what?”

Hull spread his hands and gave a tight laugh. “Anything. To me, just days ago, I was a bookkeeper in London, under the reign of Queen Victoria. Now I’m here, and I’m not even sure where here is. What little money I have on me is useless. Since I’ve arrived here, I’ve had to…” He flinched. “Steal to eat, to clothe myself-”

Jeremy took some bills from his wallet. “This will be enough to find a place to stay tonight and buy food. We’ll meet with you again tomorrow, in case we have further questions.”

“Did anyone else get the impression he was hoping we’d take him with us?” I asked as we left the park.

Clay snorted.

“It would be the humane thing to do,” Jeremy said. “If his story is true. But if it isn’t…”