“What are you doing?” Surrey all but yelled. “Why are you closing the door?”
“I’m just making sure no one can sneak up on me, Mr. Surrey.” I edged around the car door and made my way to the van’s snub nose. My gun was still aimed at the office, but I doubted he was coming out. More than likely, I’d have to go in and get him. “There’s no reason to panic.”
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” His voice was becoming shriller. “That’s why you closed the door, isn’t it?”
My gaze switched from the deep-red blur that was Surrey to the office door. It would only take me a heartbeat to get there, but once there, I was a sitting duck. Surrey might be panicking, but he was still a vamp and still had reflexes as fast as mine. Was I willing to bet my life on the fact that his panic would make his aim less perfect?
The answer to that was a categorical no. “Mr. Surrey, I just want to talk to you. If you have nothing at all to do with the crime, you won’t get into any trouble.”
“You’re lying. I can taste it!”
“Mr. Surrey, please calm down. I promise—”
I didn’t get the rest of the sentence out. Surrey finally moved, launching himself through the doorway and firing his weapon in one swift, deft movement.
Chapter 4
The shot reverberated through the emptiness. I threw myself sideways, felt the sting of metal past my cheek, and fired my own gun. I hit the concrete with enough force to bruise, but ignored the shock reverberating through my muscles and rolled into a kneeling position, the gun held at the ready.
I needn’t have bothered.
My shot had flown true, hitting Surrey in the middle of his forehead. Not even a vampire can survive having his brains splattered out of the back of his head.
Nausea rose. I closed my eyes and fought back the bitter taste of bile in my throat. Justified or not, I’d let instinct take over and had fired to kill rather than wound.
I don’t want to do this anymore. The thought came thick and fast, its force so strong it made me shake.
But the truth was, I would. Time and time again. I would do what I had to do, until the killer took me over.
Because I had no other choice, no other option.
Kye had offered an option, some stupid, silly part of me whispered. It might have even been a way out.
But it was a way out that would have involved more killing. He’d been a hunter, just like me, only he’d enjoyed it. He wouldn’t have changed even if I’d asked.
But I hadn’t asked. I’d killed him instead.
Tears stung my eyes, but I savagely blinked them away. Feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to help.
I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath, swiped a hand at the blood dribbling down my cheek, then flicked the safety back on the weapon and pushed to my feet.
Surrey might be dead, but I could still get my answers—if his soul was a little more cooperative than his flesh had been, that was.
I walked across to the office doorway and squatted beside his body. In death, he looked small and harmless, his body so thin it was almost wasted. His face was gaunt, his nose and cheeks sharp and prominent, and his skin had that pale, translucent look of a vampire who wasn’t feeding enough. The thick scent of the blood and brains that were leaking from his head made my nose twitch, but it was the smells riding underneath that caught my interest. Because underneath the reek of vampire was the tantalizing, nebulous aroma of werewolf.
Sometime in the last few hours, he’d been in close contact with one of us. And if Surrey had been in the van Johnson’s soul had mentioned, then he’d just given us our first clue as to who his partner in crime was.
I rested my arms on my knees and waited. For some odd reason, humans seemed to believe that vampires had no souls. Maybe because, for most vampires, the turning process did involve the death of their human forms as their bodies evolved into vampire—and for humans, death generally meant the soul moved on. But whatever the reason, it wasn’t true. Although right now, it seemed Surrey’s soul was a little afraid to come out and speak to me.
I shuffled back a fraction, hoping that by giving him a little more space, he’d feel a little less jumpy.
I’d never met a soul that was scared of me before. Confused and frightened by what had happened to them, yes, but not actually afraid.
It took a few minutes, but gradually the chill of death began to infuse the air. Wispy strands of smoke began to rise from his body, the tendrils gathering several feet above his flesh until they’d formed a ghostly, almost humanlike figure that had no features. He didn’t swirl as so many other souls did, but I felt the sharp tug of him sucking at my energy.
You lied, he said, his voice far clearer, stronger, than was usual for the dead. But maybe that was merely a result of the freshness of his demise. Usually I didn’t arrive on the scene until at least an hour afterward.
“Anyone who shoots at a guardian needs to be prepared. We don’t often miss.” Although I could have, if I’d just taken a moment to think rather than react. It would have been better to interrogate his live body rather than his dead one.
But I didn’t kill anyone, he said. His anger and fear swirled around me, through me, in a bitter, vengeful cloud.
It was the same bitterness I’d tasted in the park.
“If you didn’t kill Johnson, then why were your prints found in the van? And why was your scent at the murder scene?”
He just sat there, a pulsing cloud of conflicting emotions. And he didn’t seem more inclined to talk in this form than he had when flesh.
“If you want to move on and find peace, you’d better talk to me, Mr. Surrey.”
I had no idea if it actually worked that way, but I was betting he didn’t, either.
He stirred, sending a tendril of smoke swirling outward from his main form. The energy flowing from my body increased sharply, and pain stabbed through me. Obviously, I needed more recovery time between souls.
The bastard deserved what he got, he spat. He killed my family. Tortured them.
“He went to prison for his crimes—”
Hah, Surrey retorted. Twenty-five years for my wife and her daughter. Does that seem fair to you?
“That’s not—”
Yeah, yeah, you bastards all stick together. Well, I don’t regret my actions. He deserved it. I can move on in peace now, knowing he can’t do that to anyone else.
“But you didn’t actually do anything, did you, Mr. Surrey?” It was a guess on my part, but a pretty certain one. Surrey might be a vampire, but he didn’t seem to have the balls for torture. Sure, he’d had no compunction about shooting at me, but I think that was more fear and panic than courage.
His sullenness swirled around me. The pain of him sucking at my strength was growing, as was the dull ache behind my left eye.
No, he said eventually. I hired someone.
“Tell me who.”
I never knew his name and he never got out of that stupid costume he was wearing.
“The demon costume?”
His smoky form moved, which I took as assent. Maybe he’d forgotten he no longer had flesh.
“How did you get in contact with him, then?”
There was an ad in the paper.
I blinked. Contract killers were now taking out ads? “What sort of ad?”
A problem-solved ad. I contacted them, told them about Johnson, and they said they could help me.
By sending around a hit man? Interesting. “Was it their idea or yours to accompany the killer?”
Mine. I wanted to see the bastard die, wanted to feel it. Wanted him to know just how it felt to spend the last minutes of your life in such pain and fear.