‘Did you bring it?’ Jack trembled with excitement.

Jaqueline sighed, produced and sampled a delicious looking Tuna Sandwich.

‘Capers and red onions?’ he queried.

‘On New York style rye!’

He practically swooned. ‘How do you like it?’

‘It's divine, Jack.’ and produced a bunch of blood red grapes. ‘Grape?’

Jack stopped moving. ‘That's not funny. You know I can’t do that anymore.’

Jaqueline giggled delightedly. Weeks had passed without result, she finally found something he cared about. Jack passed through her and settled on a bench pulling out a copy of the London Daily Post, dated November 9th, 1888.

The couple, who had been vigorously exploring each other's tonsils, broke apart and walked off embarrassed.

‘That wasn't nice.’ Jaqueline stood next to the bench.

‘It wasn’t supposed to be nice, jailer.’ That last word was spoken with scorn.

The newspaper flickered and became a scalpel which he deftly slashed across her abdomen.

Nothing happened. Jaqueline took another bite, looking bored. ‘Disappointed?’

‘Quite.’ He looked at her pleadingly. ‘Now, release me. You’ve had your… fun’ the distaste was palpable ‘now return me to my torment.’ He closed his eyes. She finished her sandwich. He opened his eyes.

Tossing the wrapper in the bin, she produced an Ouija board from a pocket. It had more holes than board, a small crystal planchette bounding between the letters W H Y endlessly. If you had looked closely, it would have appeared to be floating just above her open hand.

Jack reached for the board; she grabbed it and smacked it across his face.

The audible slap caused a passing jogger to look.

Jack composed himself, nursing his cheek. His lack of corporeal form had stopped it smarting.

‘You know the deal, Jackie. Tell me why you killed all those women and I will release you to…’ she stopped to consider it. Where did the Ripper end up after dying? Heaven? Hell? Purgatory? Did it really matter? ‘Well, release you.’

He floated out of slapping range. ‘No, you have gotten more than you wanted. The bargain was for whom. I gave you eight names, that is all.’

‘Prick.’

‘Colourful, alas a bargain stands.’

She stood and strolled along the water.

Compelled by unseen chains was pulled along with her. For a while, they strode and floated respectively.

‘Why a lakeside rendezvous?’ She didn't respond, turning on to a small rickety jetty.

At its terminus, Jaqueline stopped and placed the Ouija board on the jetty. Jack floated off her left shoulder, stabbing fruitlessly at her.

Sigh. ‘Is she here?’

Jack stopped. ‘Who she?’

‘I’m not talking to you.’

Unaccustomed still, Jack made an effort to actually see again. At Jacqueline's feet lay eight more Ouija boards, planchettes flittering madly. Y E S, Y E S, Y E S.

‘She is always here.’ said a rough new voice. ‘We are all here.’

Eight spirits floated up through the floor and surrounded Jack. The air started growing thick with static electricity.

The first woman, a battered husk of what had probably been a pretty girl, looked Jaqueline in the eye. ‘Better go, Sister. This won't be pretty.’

Jacqueline nodded and fled. Screams of psychic energy lashed out for minutes before lightning struck, and everything became blissfully quiet.