Read A Siren's Song (Ride of the Darkyrie 2) for Free Online
Authors: Saranna DeWylde
courtesies of this getting to know you crap.
“Thank God you’re not a writer.”
That made me laugh. “Why is that?”
“Jenna told me that you’re not only a detective, but you’re a profiler too.”
“Well, I don’t have all the letters after my name.” I’d have to talk to Jenna later about telling people about the profiling. That was probably what made him want to meet me. To see if he could slip under my radar.
Then I realized he hadn’t answered my question. “Why do writers annoy you?”
“I’m a painter. But that’s not why they hound me. If it was for my art, I’d be ecstatic. Patricia Cornwell wrote a book about my great-great-grandfather and now everyone else wants to write one, too.”
It clicked where I recognized his name from. Walter Sickert. The current darling of Ripperologists everywhere. My date for the evening was descended from Jack the Ripper, if recent theories were to be believed.
I knew then exactly how to lull him into a sense of safety. I nodded. “I know what that’s like. My father was Erik Hill.”
“That’s why you’re a cop. To make amends for what he did?” He raised a brow in question.
Not by a long shot, buddy . I managed to keep my laughter subdued to a chuckle. “Sure.” I nodded. “And it’s what I know.” Our eyes met and I looked at him meaningfully for a long moment. Yeah, that’s it. Come take tea with me said the spider to the fly.
“You’re not at all what I expected, Brynn.” Richard sounded pleased.
I’m usually not. “Neither are you.”
I suppose it was wrong, but he’d roused an academic curiosity. I wanted to slap him on a slide and shove him under a microscope. He was a killer to be sure, but was it something in the blood?
In the blood. In the blood. In the…
I pushed the thoughts of blood out of my head. The Capri Killer was gaining the market share of my brain. I had to be careful or I’d start thinking more and more like him until I was killing like him. I had to be careful not to fall too far down the rabbit hole when I climbed into their heads.
It had always been my belief that killers were born. Some switches were flipped by circumstance, but other had been on since they were mewling little beasts pushed from the dark of the womb. But this would be scientific proof. What about his father and his father before him? Had they been killers as well or had that dark depravity lain sleeping in the DNA the same as eye color and height, looking for the proper match to manifest?
“So how did you meet Jenna?”
He took a drink of his beer. “She answered my ad for a model when we were in college.”
“You guys have been friends a long time? I wonder how we didn’t meet before.” She was going to miss him when was gone. I’d spare her pain if I could, but I couldn’t allow him to keep walking around breathing. Killing.
“I’m really not very social. I’d rather work than socialize,” he said it like it was a dirty confession.
“Me too.” As we talked, I found I liked him. I’d try to make his death painless.
“This really isn’t my scene. Wanna get out of here?” Richard asked as he slipped his arm around my waist.
“Yeah, I do. Let me run to the restroom first and I’ll meet you outside.”
Jason still hadn’t come back to the table and Jenna was talking with a
“Thank God you’re not a writer.”
That made me laugh. “Why is that?”
“Jenna told me that you’re not only a detective, but you’re a profiler too.”
“Well, I don’t have all the letters after my name.” I’d have to talk to Jenna later about telling people about the profiling. That was probably what made him want to meet me. To see if he could slip under my radar.
Then I realized he hadn’t answered my question. “Why do writers annoy you?”
“I’m a painter. But that’s not why they hound me. If it was for my art, I’d be ecstatic. Patricia Cornwell wrote a book about my great-great-grandfather and now everyone else wants to write one, too.”
It clicked where I recognized his name from. Walter Sickert. The current darling of Ripperologists everywhere. My date for the evening was descended from Jack the Ripper, if recent theories were to be believed.
I knew then exactly how to lull him into a sense of safety. I nodded. “I know what that’s like. My father was Erik Hill.”
“That’s why you’re a cop. To make amends for what he did?” He raised a brow in question.
Not by a long shot, buddy . I managed to keep my laughter subdued to a chuckle. “Sure.” I nodded. “And it’s what I know.” Our eyes met and I looked at him meaningfully for a long moment. Yeah, that’s it. Come take tea with me said the spider to the fly.
“You’re not at all what I expected, Brynn.” Richard sounded pleased.
I’m usually not. “Neither are you.”
I suppose it was wrong, but he’d roused an academic curiosity. I wanted to slap him on a slide and shove him under a microscope. He was a killer to be sure, but was it something in the blood?
In the blood. In the blood. In the…
I pushed the thoughts of blood out of my head. The Capri Killer was gaining the market share of my brain. I had to be careful or I’d start thinking more and more like him until I was killing like him. I had to be careful not to fall too far down the rabbit hole when I climbed into their heads.
It had always been my belief that killers were born. Some switches were flipped by circumstance, but other had been on since they were mewling little beasts pushed from the dark of the womb. But this would be scientific proof. What about his father and his father before him? Had they been killers as well or had that dark depravity lain sleeping in the DNA the same as eye color and height, looking for the proper match to manifest?
“So how did you meet Jenna?”
He took a drink of his beer. “She answered my ad for a model when we were in college.”
“You guys have been friends a long time? I wonder how we didn’t meet before.” She was going to miss him when was gone. I’d spare her pain if I could, but I couldn’t allow him to keep walking around breathing. Killing.
“I’m really not very social. I’d rather work than socialize,” he said it like it was a dirty confession.
“Me too.” As we talked, I found I liked him. I’d try to make his death painless.
“This really isn’t my scene. Wanna get out of here?” Richard asked as he slipped his arm around my waist.
“Yeah, I do. Let me run to the restroom first and I’ll meet you outside.”
Jason still hadn’t come back to the table and Jenna was talking with a