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I raised an eyebrow. "I have a choice?"
Again a slight smile tugged his lips. "No, you do not. " He waved a hand toward the doorway. "After you, Hanna London. "
I opened my mouth to tell him that wasn't my name, then snapped it closed. My name was there, I could feel it, but it just wouldn't reveal itself.
Patience, I reminded myself.
Only I had a suspicion patience was the one thing I didn't have a lot of.
I made my way through the house and out the back. Harris closed and locked the door behind us, then turned around and said, "I won't find you inside again, will I?"
I smiled, but my reply was cut off by the sudden sound of screaming.
Screaming that was male and filled with fear.
Screaming that was cut off almost as quickly as it had begun.
Chapter 11
"Stay here," Harris said, barely even looking at me as he ran off.
I snorted softly. Like I was really going to obey that order when I hadn't obeyed any of his others so far.
I took off after him, our footsteps ringing sharply across the darkness. The wind remained free
from the scent of blood, but the taste of fear was growing sharper.
We rounded the last of the buildings and turned in to the paddock area where Landsbury had been attacked and killed. The young policeman was still at his post, but he was staring at the emptiness beyond the hills. He looked relieved when he saw Harris.
"Sir," he said, voice a little strained, "there's some sort of kerfuffle out in the Northern Ranges. "
"Did you see anything or anyone, Benny?" Harris asked.
"No, sir. Just heard the screaming. "
Harris nodded and ran on. I followed close on his heels. We raced out of the paddock area into a sandier, wilder area, sprinting up a hill. Harris paused at the top, and I stopped beside him, my nostrils flaring to catch any hint of blood or vengeance or any other scent that didn't belong. None of those rode the wind, but the smell of fear was thicker.
"There," Harris said, pointing sharply to the left.
I followed the line of his finger. Several hilltops away, metal gleamed briefly but brightly in the moonlight. Someone had raised a knife, but whether that someone was male or female was anyone's guess, because -
thanks to the hill - all we could see was the hand and the knife.
"This time, stay here," Harris said, and plunged down the slope. He shifted shape as he ran, flowing from human to brown wolf with a fluidity and grace that was breathtaking to see.
I plunged after him and reached for my own wolf. I could feel her, feel her eagerness, deep within my soul, but there was still some sort of barrier between us. Pain flared so bright and hard inside my brain that I stumbled and had to flail my arms to keep my balance.
Tears stung my eyes and frustration burned through my body. Whoever had done this to me would pay. Big time.
I ran on, my feet flying over the sandy soil, oddly keeping up with Harris even though he was in wolf form and could move with greater ease over the ground. Maybe there really was vampire in me.
The scent of blood began to stain the air. We were too late - far too late - to save the life of whoever it was who'd screamed. But we still had a chance to catch the killer.
We ran up another hill, plunged down the far side. From beyond the next hill came a brief flash that lit up the night. It looked for all the world like someone was taking a photo.
But only a sicko would take photos of their handiwork - although given these murders seemed to be based on vengeance, maybe it wasn't the work of a sick mind, but rather someone taking snaps for whoever was behind this particular murder. Not everyone could attend the murder scene like Hank Surrey had . . .
I filed the name away and continued running. As we reached the top of the hill, the scent of blood and death and fear sharpened, filling the night air with its taint. Just below us, spread-eagled and naked, was a man. Like Landsbury, he had a gaping, bloody wound where his penis and balls used to be.
