Two starred reviews! An instant New York Times bestseller! From Printz Honor–winning and New York Times bestselling author Julie Berry, a true-crime-nail-biter-turned-mythic-odyssey pitting Jack the Ripper against Medusa. “A powerful exploration of human connection during nightmarish times” ( Kirkus Reviews ). It’s autumn 1888, and Jack the Ripper is on the run. As London police close in, he flees England for New York City seeking new victims. But a primal force of female vengeance has had enough. With serpents for hair and a fearsome gaze, an awakened Medusa is hunting for one thing: Jack. And other dangers lurk in Manhattan’s Bowery. Salvation Army volunteers Tabitha and Pearl discover that a girl they once helped has been forced to work in a local brothel. Tabitha’s an upstate city girl with a wry humor and a thirst for adventure, while farmgirl Pearl takes everything with stone-cold seriousness. Their brittle partnership is tested as they team up with an aspiring girl reporter and a handsome Irish bartender to mount a rescue effort, only to find their fates entwine with Medusa’s and Jack’s. A New York Times bestseller! Two starred reviews! ★ “ If Looks Could Kill drips with the historical and sensory detail Berry's readers have come to expect from her work. . . . a meticulously thoughtful exploration of vengeance, justice, mercy, faith, and sisterhood.” — Shelf Awareness , starred review ★ “This expansive historical novel with Medusa-inspired fantasy elements features Jack the Ripper, Salvation Army missionaries, and new-made Gorgons in New York’s Bowery, 1888. . . . Berry’s call to awareness of misogyny in its many guises is strong and clear. And, as is her way, she treats historical detail with a light but sure hand and religious conviction with sympathetic clarity.” — The Horn Book , starred review “A YA thriller unlike anything you’ve read before . . . dark, fast-paced, and utterly addictive, it’s the must-read of the fall.” — Parade Magazine “A page-turning, well-balanced story in a richly drawn setting. . . . Rather than just a cathartic comeuppance, this is more a considered look at who, if anyone, can be spared in a world so callously stacked against women and girls that it views brutal crimes as more titillation than tragedy.” — The Bulletin “A powerful exploration of human connection during nightmarish times.” — Kirkus Reviews Julie Berry is the New York Times bestselling author of the 2020 NCTE Walden Award and SCBWI Golden Kite Award winner Lovely War , the 2017 Printz Honor and Los Angeles Times Book Prize–shortlisted The Passion of Dolssa , the Carnegie Medal– and Edgar Award–shortlisted All the Truth That’s in Me , the Odyssey Honor The Scandalous Sisterhood of Prickwillow Place , and the Wishes and Wellingtons trilogy. Her picture books include The Night Frolic , Happy Right Now , and Cranky Right Now . Julie holds a BS from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in communication and an MFA from Vermont College of the Fine Arts. Julie lives in western New York, where she owns Author’s Note, an independent bookstore. Tabitha—‘The War Cry’: (Friday, September 7, 1888) Tabitha— The War Cry (Friday, September 7, 1888) Commander Maud Ballington Booth had warned me—well, all of us—that Satan would strew trials and adversities in our path to glory. I just never expected one of them to be Pearl Davenport, my roommate and companion soldier in the Salvation Army. Wherever I go, there is Pearl, and wherever Pearl goes, there am I. I’d arrived in New York on Saturday. I spent Sunday attending rally meetings, then several days training at headquarters. By Wednesday night, I’d been assigned my base camp—the one on the Bowery—and my comrade in arms. Pearl. I had brought a little present for my soon-to-be sister and absolute forever best friend, as yet unmet, likely to be the maid of honor at my wedding if I ever did marry: a bracelet of small coral beads. Modest and pretty. Not very expensive, but nice. I handed her the tissue-wrapped package. Some people look pleased when given a gift. Or, at least, they know how to fake it. She couldn’t, Pearl explained gravely, indulge in such vanity. However, to please me, she would accept the gift and sell it to feed the poor. And that was us, just getting started. Maid of dis honor at my wedding. Silly, silly me to think joining the Salvation Army would ensure I’d make new friends. I may have been somewhat snippish toward Pearl after the fourth or so little display of her precious piety. So much for new-roommate sisterly warmth. Grim politeness didn’t last a day before open hostilities broke out. Not for nothing are we called an army. It was early Friday evening. We’d been companions for forty-six hours. We marched up and down the Bowery and surrounding streets, entering concert saloons and grimy dives before they’d gotten going for the evening, though the saloons were certainly never empty. Dressed in