Chapter 93
New York City, New York, USA, 1891
Jamie walked along the mostly empty streets of New York City with two Hunters he hardly knew, although he had gotten to know Vicky a little better while visiting London a few years ago than he had Frank. Still, the night was quiet, save some shouting and music off in the distance, and he absently wondered why he’d agreed to this assignment.
It hadn’t been because he wanted to get involved with the Jack the Ripper case again, that was for certain. After leaving Macon, he’d asked for a reassignment to Atlanta so that he could be closer to Kit, and while he was surprised Jordan had said yes, it hadn’t come without strings. He was still often assigned dangerous tasks throughout the country, sometimes the world, and in the year since he and Kit had been courting, he’d spent more days away from her than he had in her company. Eventually, they’d both been transferred to Washington, DC, where Kit’s grandfather was in charge, which made being together almost as difficult as being apart. Now, here he was, called into NYC not by the leader but by Ward, the head of the London Area, who needed someone somewhat familiar with New York, and Jamie was the only one dumb enough to agree.
He was excited to see this particular monster get his comeuppance, however. Jack the Ripper had been chased across the ocean, and after all of the women he’d slaughtered in Whitechapel, it was about time he met his demise. Hopefully, Ward and Aaron’s tip would be correct and the reign of this particular creature of the night would be over in a matter of minutes, hours at best.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Frank asked, trailing slightly behind Jamie and Vicky as they made their way at human speed down a narrow, cobbled street. In the distance, Jamie could see the bridge over the East River. Something had alerted Vicky to the idea that they should head that direction, and Jamie didn’t think it was a bad idea. Ward and Aaron were somewhere on the other side of the river following up on information given to them by an informant who was certain a man meeting Jack’s description had been seen in the area with prostitutes the last few nights.
“I’m following my nose,” the lovely blonde replied without so much as a glance over her shoulder. “And my nose is always right.”
All Jamie could smell was the distinct odor of urine and horse manure, but he said nothing. It wasn’t his job to try to deter this team, only to guide them. He’d spent enough time in this area of the Big Apple to know most of the roads, so if she wanted to go to the bridge, he’d get her there as directly as possible. For now, she seemed to be headed the right direction on her own, and eventually the scents of street refuse were replaced by the smell of rotting fish coming in off the body of water that lay before them like an expansive ribbon of highway, almost still in the breezeless night, starlight glinting off the surface when the occasional disturbance sent the pristine glass top stirring.
The closer they got to the bridge, the more of a stirring Jamie began to feel deep inside of him. He knew something was close, something sinister. Generally speaking, Vampires had a way of igniting a disturbance in his gut, but this one was different, unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he knew without a doubt it was because of the power encompassed in the being that seemed to be growing closer with each pound of his leather boots upon the pavement.
The three of them walked in step onto the bridge. There were traffic lanes on either side with a pedestrian walkway down the middle. This time of night, traffic was light, and they didn’t need to worry about any passersby spotting what they were up to. They had scarcely gotten to the first joint in the bridge when the creature that was causing the sensations within each of them like a thousand batting butterflies came into view.
Off in the distance, a little less than a quarter of the way across the bridge, a figure came toward them. He was dressed in a long black coat, a top hat, and black slacks. The man was rushing toward them, a bit of drag to one leg, as if he’d been running too far and had gotten a cramp or had another sort of injury. And as he ran, he paused to look over his shoulder. The trio eased their pace, certain he hadn’t spotted them yet. Once he did, he also slowed down, looked back, but cautiously took a few steps forward. He was trapped; Jamie could see a familiar figure crossing onto the bridge behind Jack the Ripper and knew they had him now.
As they closed in, Jamie heard Aaron’s voice ring out through the chilly night. “Jack! “Put your hands up and come with us, and you won’t be harmed.”
Though Jack was still quite a ways off, he was growing closer each second as he ran toward them. Briefly looking over his shoulder, he shouted, “If you truly think you know who I am, there’s no way you’re taking me in without harming me!”
The space between them continued to narrow, and within seconds, Jamie could see Aaron’s blue eyes. Jack was trapped, his options limited, and the team spread out to further entrap him against the side of the bridge. Instinctively, Jamie leapt over the iron bar separating the footpath from the automobile path, Vicky angled herself further from Frank, and the team formed a semicircle, pinning Jack against the outside wall.
Having never been in the field with these particular team members before, Jamie wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. There was no question Jack could hurl himself off of the edge of the bridge and end up in the cold drink below. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it wouldn’t kill him. Apparently, the rest of the team thought this was a possibility as well. Jamie could see Frank fingering something in his jacket pocket, and while the Healer would’ve welcomed a gun for once, or one of Bo’s exploding silver bombs, from here, it looked like all Frank had was a typical run-of-the-mill silver-tipped stake, which likely wouldn’t do much on its own against the likes of Jack the Ripper.
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