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The Alchemist

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Ripper doesn't say "please" and "thank you" anymore. He barks orders to shopgirls and barmen; he glowers at little old ladies who cringe to see all that leather. It's almost a month since "I'm sorry" last contaminated his lips.

Ripper is Ethan's triumph. He made this gold out of dullest lead, out of the most hopeless provincial ever to creep through Earl's Court pretending he wasn't looking for a boy. And the only magic it needed was the oldest. Bare skin, bare soul. All that wanting uncovered and learning to take.

Beautiful savage, beautiful Ripper. He'll never be civilised again.