Ripper (34 page)

Yep, he made my skin crawl. “You mean fear. You like to scare your lovers.”

One shoulder came up negligently. “You consider it fear. I think of it as an arousing game. I never hurt the girls…too much.”

“You met with Joanne.” I didn’t want to get into Alexander Sharpe’s predilections. “Her appointment book stated she had a date with you shortly before she disappeared.”

“Well, I wasn’t about to let something so sweet and docile get past me. Unfortunately, she was more interested in the whereabouts of some other girl than she was in partaking of what I had to offer.”

“She asked you about Britney Miles?”

“Only until I used enough persuasion to get what I wanted.” The vampire was casual, as though rape was on the same level as a white lie.

“You took her by force.” I was pleased that the question managed to come out somewhat civil. I wanted to shout. A low thrum of anger started in my belly. My skin began to heat.

The vampire’s laugh was brittle and boomed through the room. “Silly girl, you can’t force a prostitute. They know their place and if they don’t, they certainly do after I’m done with them.”

“These women are under the protection of the Council.” I promised myself I would have a long talk with Dev Quinn when I updated him.

He was completely unconcerned with my threat. “Then they should complain to the Council. I’m sure Quinn put in some form of a system for situations like this. That faery is careful. I’m afraid you won’t find a single working girl who’ll stand up and protest. They like what I give them. Trust me, no one knows how to make a whore scream the way I do.” He leaned forward and I forced myself to hold my ground. “Go on, Miss Atwood. Ask the question you really want to ask. Normally, I refuse to answer, but I’ll tell you the truth. You intrigue me.”

I should have avoided the trap, but I was far too curious. “Were you really Jack the Ripper?”

“Oh yes,” he breathed. “I was. I am. Does something like that ever really die? I terrorized London, but they never understood. I was an artist. I killed, well, one often forgets one’s first, fumbling attempts, but it was many more than the five they give me credit for. I was a doctor, you see, so I knew the disease those whores spread. I had to watch many a decent man suffer and die because he couldn’t resist their siren call. I was doing the city a favor. My fatal flaw was a savage need for credit. I should have worked quietly, but it all turned out for the best.”

“You were caught and killed, weren’t you?”

He stared straight at me. “Yes, I was and by a clever girl much like yourself. You remind me of her. Something about the eyes. She put the pieces together and came for me one night. A little thing she was, but ferocious. She was stronger than she looked. I always wondered how the Council missed her. They’re good at finding Hunters like her.”

“I thought hunters hunted supernaturals for the Council.” My grandfather had been one, but he didn’t have any power beyond his natural strength and long practice.

“Are you serious?” He sat back. “Are you joking with me?”

Joking was the absolute last thing I was thinking about. “What do you mean? Why would I joke? I’m here on serious business, Sharpe.”

A smile of pure pleasure broke over his face. It was a frightening thing to see. “I can see that. I can see that you’re quite serious. Such webs they weave. Who am I to tear them down? Anyway, like I said, this girl had no training and no idea what power she possessed. I didn’t know what she was at the time, either, which was why I underestimated her. It was my misfortune that she was an activist. You know the type. Wide-eyed idealist trying to save the world. Those instincts of hers took over when she found me and I was gutted before I could quite close my hands around her throat.”

Something about the way he said “instincts” caused me to get goose bumps. It made me think of the way I had fought the wolves in the alley. I was also thinking about the way he’d talked about webs being woven. I had to wonder who was the spider and who was the fly. “You think she was a supe who didn’t know it?”

 He hesitated for a moment before continuing on. “Some humans are born with true killer instincts. I’m not talking about soldiers or even murderers. I’m talking about something else entirely. They remind one of wolves in the way they track their prey. The Council has always tried to find and train these humans, but this girl had gotten away.”

“So she killed you and Jack the Ripper was relegated to the history books.”

“Except I didn’t die, not really. Unfortunately for her.” His eyes lit at the thought of what had happened next.

“You killed her?”

“Oh, yes,” the vampire said with relish. “After my training with the Council was done, I was allowed to settle in the United States, but not before I returned home one last time. I was the hunter then, and her screams still make me sigh. She had your eyes.” Sharpe crossed his legs and his body relaxed into the chair like he’d related a pleasant story instead of confessed to multiple murders. “Tell me, dear, have you found Joanne yet?”

“I did. In Whites Chapel Cemetery.” I watched him carefully.

“How very obvious! Please tell me you don’t suspect I would do something so transparent.” He looked horrified, as though he’d been accused of doing something socially awkward.

“No, but I wonder if you don’t know who did,” I said, concentrating on every nuance of his expression. “Have you met a man named Peter Hamilton?”

He seemed to pulse with some strange form of joy, as though we were playing a game and he’d discovered he’d finally found a worthy opponent. “Very good, Miss Atwood. Yes, I have indeed made the mad professor’s acquaintance. He accosted me one night outside this very club, though he’d left me a present the night before. It was the only reason I agreed to meet with the man. I found his gift…intriguing.”

I could only presume what his gift had been. “What did he want from you?”

“Immortality, of course. Turns out the good professor has a brain tumor. He only has six months to live. It’s made him quite mad. He believes I can cure him.”

“He believes you can turn him.”

“Yes. I didn’t have the heart to explain the truth to the bugger. Besides, we all like to have our admirers, don’t we? I think I could very much admire you, Miss Atwood. I find you endlessly fascinating.”

The room got cold around me as the vampire smiled at me. I knew that no matter how this case turned out, Alexander Sharpe wasn’t finished with me. I was on his radar and I couldn’t even use Marcus’s power to keep him away. He knew Marcus and I had nothing between us. He would enjoy toying with me.

Something behind me caught his attention. “Ah, it looks like he’s left me another one of his trinkets.”

One of the doormen walked forward carrying a small wrapped box. Alexander Sharpe held out his hands and then motioned the servant to exit. “Would you like to do the honors, my dear?”

I didn’t want to. I had a suspicion, but I found myself untying the neatly placed crimson bow and lifting the lid off the box. Even in the dim light of the club I could plainly see the heart wrapped in tissue paper.

I shoved the box away and stood up with one thought in my head. He’d just delivered the package. He might be waiting to see if Sharpe would show up to acknowledge him. He might be standing outside, waiting eagerly to see if his god accepted the offering.

“Oh, I feel sorry for him,” the vampire murmured, but I was already racing to get out of the lounge.

Chapter Thirteen

I rushed past vampires in the lounge who tried to catch my attention, but I stopped when I made it into the hall. I physically couldn’t keep going. It was as though the walls themselves were threatening to close around me. They seemed almost alive and pulsating with menace. Whispers. I heard them coming from all sides, from the walls and the floors and the fixtures. Everywhere I turned something was beckoning, trying to lure me into the rooms. Traps. Stacy had mentioned something about traps. It looked like I was getting the full measure of one.

“Calm down and breathe through it.” Alexander Sharpe’s precise British accent cut through the panic I felt. He stood behind me, staring at me, curiosity in his cold blue eyes. He was long and lean, dressed in a conservative suit and tie.

What had she said? I needed a vampire to escort me or else the club would try to hold me. I felt it pulling at me. At first the whispers had been threatening, but they changed tactics. Now they soothed and tempted. They told me all the wonderful things that could happen if I opened the doors to certain rooms and stepped inside. When coaxing didn’t work, it went back to fear. I would die if I didn’t make it behind locked doors. It sent images of all the things that would come after me if I didn’t leave this hallway immediately.

“Could you please get Marcus?” I wasn’t about to hold his hand. I let my hand find the wall to steady myself because the magic was making me nauseous and the slightest bit dizzy. Touching Alexander would be worse.

“And stop this interesting test? Never. I think you’re different, Miss Atwood. I would like to know how different you are. I begin to believe there’s a reason a high-powered councilman is wasting his time on a woman he isn’t fucking. He thinks you’re a Hunter.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I practically snarled the question because I was getting damn sick of being left out of the joke. I took that deep breath Sharpe had advised me to take and tried to banish the nausea I felt.

“It means you can get the bloody hell out of here on your own if you try.” He leaned casually against the very wall that threatened to close in on me. “Think about it; your prey could be getting away. He’s probably standing outside, waiting to see if I will favor him with immortality’s kiss. Bugger’s been reading too many novels if you ask me. He’s waiting, but he won’t wait forever. How do you like the fact that he’s standing out there and you’re stuck in here?”

I didn’t like it at all. It didn’t sit well with me. If he was out there, then I wanted my hands on him. I wanted to run him to the ground and to feel him quake with fear when he realized I was after him. It started like it had with the wolves. The instinct started as a tiny ember in the pit of my stomach. It was a whisper at first, telling me I could break free of this magic.

Alexander Sharpe’s bored voice sliced through my thoughts. “Then again, perhaps you’re a silly little human. What’s the fun in that?”

I growled at the killer and it was right there in the back of my mind that I could gut him like the first Hunter had, but this time it would be more permanent. I could end him and avenge my brethren. I wasn’t sure where that thought had come from, but it was compelling all the same. There must have been something in my eyes because the vampire took a step back when I turned on him.

His dark eyes widened as though he was pleasantly surprised. Still, he kept his distance. “Yes, there you are. There’s time enough for our game later. Right now, your prey is that way.”

He pointed down the hall and suddenly I remembered how to get out of here. The voices were still calling to me. I didn’t break through the wards or anything. I simply found it easier to ignore since I was completely focused on one thing—bringing Peter Hamilton to justice. He’d killed and tortured and ripped apart six women in an attempt to save his own pitiful life. He couldn’t be allowed to get away with that. It was my job to see that he never did it again.

I slapped my left hand on the wall. If I kept in contact with that wall, I could make it to the front door. I wouldn’t get lost if I didn’t lift my hand. It was like a maze. I slipped off the three-inch heels. I didn’t need anything to hinder me.

I ran down the hall, sensing the vampire behind me. He watched everything I did with an avid interest. I couldn’t let that phase me. I almost ran into another vampire turning from the main hall down the one that led to the lounge. His eyes widened and he backed away from me.

“See, love, he knows instinctively what you are,” I heard Sharpe saying as he jogged to keep up with me.

The carpet beneath my feet gave way to hardwood and I could see the front door. I felt a wave of triumph suffuse my body. I could see the end and I couldn’t even hear those voices whispering. I’d beaten them. They couldn’t hold me. I felt my power in that moment. It hummed through my veins.

The doorman caught a glimpse of me and then got the hell out of my way. My panic had morphed into pure predatory need.

I stalked into the night cautiously. If I ran, I might tip off my prey that something was wrong. The cool air hit my skin and I noticed that the moon was full. It hung huge in the sky, a perfect harvest moon. It illuminated the yard as I carefully looked around.

Sharpe came to stand beside me and that was all I needed.

He appeared across the street. He emerged from behind a line of bushes that ran the length of the parking garage I’d watched the place from a few nights ago. Professor Peter Hamilton stepped almost shyly from his hiding place, and his eyes were on the vampire. He walked across the street and entered the yard in front of us. He didn’t even realize I was there. He was focused on the vampire. Hamilton’s eyes were wide, his hands opened as if in supplication.