Ripper (Hunter #1)(88)

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.

“Did you like my gifts, dark one?”

Yep, he was insane. It was there in his eyes and his manner.

“Well, they do tend to liven up one’s day,” Sharpe drawled behind me.

Hamilton was almost hesitant, but he moved forward anyway. “What can I bring you to please you?”

The vampire laughed, the sound crackling like dead leaves. “I’ll tell you what, Hamilton, I’ll give you what you want if you can give me one more present.”

“Anything,” the college professor promised. His hands shook. He still wore his sports coat and slacks, as though he’d walked straight from a lecture to deliver a girl’s heart.

Sharpe’s smile was slightly demonic. “Deliver her heart to me and I’ll give you what you want.”

And of course, the bastard was pointing at me.

And of course, Peter Hamilton had a gun.

I leapt off the porch as the first bullet cracked into the door, narrowly missing my head. I landed in the soft grass below and rolled as he fired again. I wished I’d listened more to Gray when he’d taught me how to load and unload his gun earlier in the evening. He’d lectured me on how many bullets a gun held, but I hadn’t really been listening. Hamilton had a pistol, but I couldn’t be sure how many shots he had left.

Rolling into a crouch, I saw him stalking across the lawn. He didn’t seem to think I would be any trouble at all after the way he’d handled those wolves. How had he handled them? The question floated over my brain as I dove behind a bush. He wasn’t strong and he wasn’t particularly fast, and his hands twitched dreadfully.

Then he fired again and the time for thinking was over. This one managed to graze my left arm. I hissed at the sting. Bullets freaking hurt.

“Asshole,” I breathed as I started to bleed all over my god-awful expensive dress that Neiman’s would never take back. “I’ve had the damn tag poking me all night long and you go and ruin it. Do you have any idea what this stupid dress cost?”

“I’ll cut her heart out for you, Dark Lord,” Hamilton promised, recklessly running toward me.

“Oh, I doubt that,” came the silky reply.

Getting to my feet, I faced off against the man with the gun. Something happened to me in that moment. It was a lot like what occurred in Arkansas when I was sixteen, but it was more powerful. Instinct rose inside me, a hot rush of power flowing through my veins. Somewhere in the background, I heard someone calling my name, but it was a far-off sound.

The world narrowed to me and Peter Hamilton. My peripheral vision was still quite good. I could sense it waiting there in case I needed it, but I focused on him. A certain hyperawareness took over, and for a second I could almost feel time slow. I saw the fine tremble in his hand as he lifted the pistol. It didn’t stop at his wrist. No, it quaked up his arm and into the muscles of his shoulders. Sound assaulted me, his heartbeat a rapid fire beat, so close together I thought the man might expire then and there.