Ripper(99)

“If you’re all right here, I’ll go see what’s holding up the Councilman,” Stacy said. “Remember what I said about the club. Stay here until I or Marcus returns for you.”

Stacy turned and strode out of the room. I was alone with the vampire.

“So, dear, Marcus Vorenus has finally set aside his unrequited love for the luscious Zoey,” the Brit drawled. His eyes slid across me as he appraised everything about me. I could feel it like a rabbit must sense a cougar. “Or has he? You’ll forgive me, but you don’t look like the mistress of one of the most powerful vampires in the world.”

“Really?” I asked, trying for jauntily unconcerned. “I suppose I should be more beautiful.”

His lips curled up and I feared I’d fallen into a trap. “I was referring to the fact that I happen to know the good councilman prefers to eat early in the evening rather than late and your neck is smooth. It’s quite lovely and perfectly untouched. He likes it from the neck. I believe he thinks it’s more romantic. You see, I make it a point to know the habits of those around me.”

And there went our cover. “My relationship with the councilman is no concern of yours.”

“So it is a ruse,” he deduced with great satisfaction. “You’re law enforcement?”

Vampire politics seemed to be a veritable minefield, so I chose to leave Dev Quinn out of my explanation. Quinn seemed to have made a place for himself in this world, but he had also pissed a bunch of people off. It was easier to go with a simple explanation. “No. I’m a private investigator. I was hired to find Joanne Taylor by her mother.”

He sighed and there was pleasure in it. His hands caressed the plush velvet of the armchair as though he was touching a lover. “Yes, the lovely doe. Her eyes were wide and brown. It isn’t often that graceful creatures allow us such delightful access to their charms.”

I was a little nauseous at the thought of Joanne at this man’s mercy. “The werewolves don’t do it for you?”

He wasn’t put off by the question at all. If anything, he leaned forward as though sharing an intimate secret with a friend. “The wolves are fine, but somewhat rough. It’s difficult to shock a wolf, if you know what I mean. I like to see the surprise in their eyes.”

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.”