Pyotr goes up less like the promised dog and more like an angry cat, snarling and sinking his fingernails into Artemy's wrist. Trimmed short, they're much too blunt to draw blood. He scrabbles futilely for a second or two before laughing like a dead man and hissing, "Do you even know much they love you? The girl especially, what was her name? Misha, Mina?"

Go on, Ripper. Tear him apart, what are you waiting for?