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- KurzbeschreibungWhen London discovered that Jack the Ripper was back, it sent Scotland Yard's Murder Squad into chaos. But now it is even worse. There are two of them. When the Harvest Man begins killing, carving people's faces off their skulls, the men of the Yard know they need Inspector Walter Day to find him before more families are murdered. Meanwhile, Saucy Jack is playing his own games-and when the two killers come together, the men of the Yard may never be the same.
- AutorAlex Grecian
- VerlagPenguin LCC US
- Seiten416 Seiten
- Gewicht325 g
- LeseprobeNight<br>Mother and Father were sharing a bed. The Harvest Man hesitated in the open bedroom door, staring down at his bare feet, his face flushing scarlet beneath the plague mask. Mother and Father had always slept in separate rooms. He was certain of it. But perhaps their habits had changed over time. That made perfect sense. If they had remained the same, he felt sure he would have found them long ago.<br>Mother stirred in her sleep and the Harvest Man finally moved. He wasn't ready for her to wake up. He uncorked a bottle of ether and placed a folded face cloth over the rim, tipped the bottle up and held it until cold liquid soaked through to his fingers. He set the open bottle on the floor next to the doorjamb, where he knew the liquid would silently turn to gas.<br>Everything always changing. Things disappearing without a trace.<br>He moved forward in slow motion, keeping his head and shoulders straight up and down, only bending at the knees. He made no sound. Mother stirred again, rolled onto her back, and the Harvest Man moved around the foot of the bed to her side. He preferred to deal with Father first. Father was bigger and stronger and, if he woke early, he always caused trouble. But Father was snoring and Mother was moving, on the verge of waking. Better to tend to her.<br>He knelt by the bed and gazed at Mother's sleeping face. The room was dark, but the window was open and the moon shone bright. He could see well enough even through his thick lenses. Mother was pretty. He thought she had always been pretty, but she didn't look like he remembered. It took him a moment to categorize the differences. Fortunately, he had a very good memory for faces. Mother's nose was slightly larger now, and was turned up at the tip. Her eyes were spaced closer together and her lips were thinner. She had lost a little weight, and her forehead was wider, her hair a different color, her neck longer, her cheekbones more prominent. He shook his head and the heavy beak at the front of his mask moved back and forth. Why did they always make so much work for him? They shouldn't change so very much. It always made him cross.<br>Mother opened her eyes and they were not the same color as he remembered. He hesitated, confused, but when she opened her mouth he clapped the ether-soaked cloth over it, held it tight to her face. She struggled for a moment, then relaxed and her arm fell limp over the side of the bed. He picked up her hand and placed it on her chest.<br>Around on the other side of the bed, Father shifted his position and so the Harvest Man leaned far across Mother's limp body, stretched out his arm, the moist cloth pinched between the ends of his two longest fingers, and shared the ether fumes with Father
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