Soho Slasher: Jack Is Back: A Harbinger Crossover Novel to International Hunters, Inc.

by Ben Hopkin

  “Kent,” Kyra said as soon as Kent stopped moving. “I feel like I’ve ruined everything. I’m not sure exactly what to do here.”

  “Well, I can think of one thing that should probably be off the list,” he responded, lifting an eyebrow and holding up a hand, as if to fend her off. When Kyra didn’t respond, he shrugged. “Hey, not your fault. You couldn’t help yourself.”

  “No, that’s just it,” Kyra replied, not allowing herself to be teased. “I could help it. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did it anyway. I told you. I’m a sociopath.”

  “Yep.”

  “Hold on. What?” That had not been what she was expecting.

  Kent sighed and scratched the stubble on his cheek. “First off, no one’s really using ‘sociopath’ anymore. It’s called ‘antisocial personality disorder.’ So if you’re going to embrace it, at least know what it’s called.” He pinned her with his gaze. “And you should. Embrace it.”

  “What are you talking about?” She had come here to get some closure, say goodbye, and try to salvage what she could of the relationship. Not get lectured about how to best be a sociopath. Or whatever the hell she was supposed to call it.

  “It’s a spectrum, like anything else,” Kent said, drawing a line with his finger. “You’re a bit farther down the wackadoo side than some, sure, but considering your background, is that really a shocker?”

  “Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” Kyra asked, starting to feel a slight prickling of something strange. Was she getting irritated? Seriously, no one but Kent could get these kinds of reactions out of her.

  “I’m not here to make you feel better. I’m here to tell you the truth.” Kent’s eyes were kind but unrelenting. “That’s what I do, and that’s why you trust me.”

  He was right. She could always trust that Kent would say what needed saying. It had always been that way.

  “So I’m crazy?”

  “More than most. A lot less than many.” The profiler reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. No tingle of seduction in the slightest. It was the touch of a father figure. “And that’s a gift. Use it.”

  “How is being crazy a gift.”

  “Because you don’t think the same way as anyone else. You see things that others don’t see. Go places others aren’t willing to go.”

  The more Kent talked, the clearer Kyra’s vision became. She could see what he was describing, see it in her own persona. The way she could stay cool in tense situations. Think through things that would cause others to blindly react.

  A gift.

  Kent held up a finger. “Don’t use it on the ones you care about.” His tone got stern. “Not ever.”

  “But you do that all the time.”

  “No,” the profiler answered. “I don’t. I tease, I taunt, I teach. But I never manipulate. Not with the ones I love.”

  And as she thought about what he was saying, Kyra realized it was true. She also recognized that he was talking about her.

  An energy passed between them. An understanding. They were similar. Kindred spirits. No more than that, but also no less.

  Kyra realized that it was more than enough.

  * * *

  Nicole watched as the exotic brunette beauty followed her husband back over to where she was seated, waiting for them. The girl was gorgeous, no doubt about it.

  No, to be honest, as Nicole looked closer, she saw that this waif of Kent’s was less stunning and more compelling. There was an intelligence there, but also a wildness. Like staring into the eyes of a tiger. One that hadn’t eaten in a while.

  Time to talk some sense into this young lady.

  “Okay. My turn.” Nicole motioned for Kyra to come closer. Kent looked back and forth between the two of them, shook his head, and went off, probably in search of a comic book store. Or in lieu of that, a bookstore that might have a limited supply of graphic novels in the back corner of their shop.

  “Nicole, I know you said--” Kyra began.

  “I did, and I meant it. Now shut up for a second.”

  Kyra went silent. At least she understood the situation well enough to get that Nicole was going to have her say. What she couldn’t know was that Nicole already cared about her. Just as she did any of Kent’s stray SK kids.

  “This is going to be short and sweet, so listen up.” Nicole kept her tone brisk and light. “We’re going to talk about dating.”

  She could see from Kyra’s eyes dilating that the statement had been unexpected. Hey, just because Nicole wasn’t as out there as Kent didn’t mean she couldn’t have a few tricks up her sleeve.

  “Kent and I talked about you, and I just wanted to warn you about something.”

  “Don’t go kissing other women’s husbands?” Kyra said, then grimaced. “Sorry. Was that too soon?”

  “No, it was actually pretty clever,” Nicole said with some appreciation. “And whether or not you kiss other women’s husbands is up to you and the kind of person you want to be.”

  Kyra shook her head, looking like she was about to reply, but Nicole cut her off. “Look, Kyra, I just wanted to warn you about dating other sociopaths.”

  “Apparently we’re not sociopaths, we’re…”

  “I know,” Nicole said. “Antisocial whatever. Doesn’t matter. Just don’t date another one.”

  “Why not? They’d get me,” the woman said, and Nicole could have sworn that under the confident tone, there was a cry of a softer, weaker child breaking through.

  “There has to be trust,” Nicole corrected her, keeping her tone gentle. “A sociopath would never trust you, and you could never trust him. One’s enough in a relationship.”

  A light seemed to dawn in Kyra’s eyes, and she nodded slowly. “I think I get what you’re saying.”

  Truth was, this girl was a lot less messed up than she thought she was. Give her a chance to be with someone on the normal end of things and she might just figure it out.

  Someone that wasn’t an antisocial personality could learn to trust Kyra, as long as she made sure her actions were trustworthy. And the mere fact that the other person wasn’t as messed up as Kyra would help earn her trust.

  Kent could help her survive her horrific childhood. Make her a better profiler. Give her back her life. But Nicole had her part to play here too.

  Nicole could help make sure that life was a positive one.

  * * *

  Kyra stacked up the last of the paperwork, breathing out a sigh of relief. This, by far, was the worst part of the job.

  “Finished?” came a British voice she recognized. Alfie Birtwhistle.

  “Yes. Finally.”

  “Too bad,” the inspector said, smiling at her. “I was coming down to offer my assistance.”

  “With paperwork?” Kyra asked. “You must be a glutton for punishment.”

  “Not at all. I rather enjoy it. Calms me.”

  Kyra shrugged, taking another look at this short, stuffy inspector. “Have you ever considered doing any work on the side?”

  Birtwhistle’s face went still. “Depends. Might there be travel involved?”

  “Certainly. My team is an international one.”

  “Then that’s it. I’m sorry, but I have no interest.”

  Kyra frowned. “But--”

  “No. Not a bit of it. I hate airplanes. And trains.” He paused for a moment. “And autos, for that matter. Don’t care much for bicycles, either.”

  Waving off the laundry list of Alfie’s traveling don’ts, Kyra responded. “What if the travel were minimal?” Seeing that there was no change in the man’s face, she continued. “Nonexistent?”

  “Then we should talk,” the inspector said as he walked back the same way he had come.

  “But wait. How should I contact you?” Kyra called after him.

  Still walking, Alfie spoke over his shoulder. “My card’s already in with your things.” He pointed in the direction of Kyra’s small array of baggage that was sitting by the doorway, await
ing the time for her eventual exit. He must have planted the card on his way in.

  Just as the short man was leaving, another figure entered. Kyra felt a stab of recognition. Blonde hair, blue eyes, chiseled jaw. There were two women at the far end of the large space that ogled him as he strolled along, narrowing the space in between the door and Kyra with each long stride.

  “Jacques,” she uttered after a moment. “What are you doing here?”

  Her PR manager shrugged his well-defined shoulders, giving her a sly sideways smile. “I was in the area and thought I’d drop in. I seem to recall an offer of fish and chips.”

  Right. During the last conversation she had shared with Jacques, Kyra had thrown caution to the wind, deciding to use the obvious attraction the man felt for her to some advantage. It had been a good plan.

  But Kent’s words rang in her ears. This was not someone to manipulate. He was a good man. A friend.

  Not a mark.

  Kyra looked up at Jacques, searching for a way to do this gently. That was not her style. You needed someone to rip off a Band-Aid? Extract a bullet? Amputate a limb? Kyra was the one to turn to. Gentle let-down? Not so much.

  But just because it wasn’t her strong suit, didn’t mean she couldn’t try. Jacques was worth it.

  “Jacques, I…” Kyra began. She stopped and regrouped. “I’ve had a bit too much of fish and chips since I’ve been here. I no longer think it’s such a good idea.” She made sure and added some emphasis to the last phrase, hoping it would land.

  And it did.

  Jacques was nothing if not socially aware and adept. Kyra watched as the excitement that had been in his eyes dimmed to something less enthused. There was disappointment there, perhaps even some hurt, but he masked it quickly.

  “Of course,” he said. “Besides, there is far too much to talk about to spend time on trivial things like eating.”

  That was clearly a lie. To Jacques, food was akin to air, if air came in a million delicious varieties. But Kyra let the statement slide. That was how this friendship thing was supposed to work, right? Mutual respect for each other’s soft spots?

  “What’s going on?” she replied, eager to change the subject.

  “Offers are coming in… how do you say? Hand over foot?”

  “Hand over fist,” Kyra corrected him.

  “You English make no sense,” he said, but then shook his head, part of his enthusiasm returning. “Our services have been requested.”

  “That’s fantastic! Where?”

  “Everywhere!” Jacques opened up his satchel and pulled out a map. “I have marked them all.” He spread the paper over the desk where Kyra was sitting.

  On the map were more dots than could possibly be for them. She stopped counting at twelve.

  “These are all potential jobs?” Kyra asked, stunned.

  “These are the confirmed offers,” Jacques corrected her. “There are twice as many requests for more information about our company.”

  “But…” Kyra looked over the map. It almost seemed as if there were fewer countries without a red mark on them than those with. “How…?”

  “This case,” Jacques said, waving his arms at the New Scotland Yard building.

  “I only solved it a day ago,” she protested.

  The Belgian PR manager pinned her down with a withering look. “After all this time, you still don’t understand how quickly I can get the word out? Twitter. Facebook. I even posted on LinkedIn and Google Plus.”

  That 24-hour news cycle Jacques was always blabbering on about was apparently a real thing. And the financial woes of International Hunters, Inc. seemed to be a thing of the past.

  “Where should we go next?” Jacques asked, waving his hand across the map spread out in front of Kyra.

  “Helsinki,” she answered without hesitation.

  “But that’s one of the old ones,” he answered with a slight frown. “They can’t pay us as much as these others.”

  Kyra stood up and walked over to where her baggage was sitting. “Doesn’t matter. We said we’d go. So we go. We’ll sort out these others afterwards.”

  Jacques seemed about to speak, but then must have seen something in Kyra’s eyes that warned him off. “Fine. We will do it your way.”

  And they would. Because it was her company. Squaring her shoulders, Kyra felt for the first time that this was going to work.

  And it was all possible because of Kent. Without this case, without Jack the Ripper, none of this would be happening.

  Without his guidance, Kyra would be out planting the seeds of the team’s eventual disintegration. On every level, it came back to Kent. He’d reforged her.

  She was now Kyra 2.0.

  As she scooped up her bags, she glanced back at Jacques and caught him looking at her with sad eyes. He covered the look as soon as he saw her looking, but in that moment, his soul had been exposed.

  And something else came back to her. The words that Nicole had spoken. About how she needed to date good men. Non-sociopathic men.

  That man would never be Jacques, but there might be some interesting clues there that might help her in the future. She could practice on the man. Not seduction, but… what?

  Friendship. That’s what it could be. They could be friends.

  But for now, it was time to head out to Helsinki. Where the next job of many awaited her team.

  * * *

  Kent settled into the seat of the airplane, watching while Nicole struggled to get both of their carry-on bags into the overhead compartment. A woman across the aisle took in the scene, gave Kent a sour look and shook her head.

  “What?” Kent challenged the woman. “I have broken ribs.” He glanced back at Nicole. “Doing a great job there, babe.”

  Nicole finished shoving in their luggage, sat down beside him and elbowed him in the side, avoiding his bruises. Mostly.

  “This has been an amazing trip,” she said. “But I’m ready to get home and go to a restaurant where they actually serve vegetables instead of those damned canned peas.”

  Kent was about to answer when his cell phone rang. Hitting the screen to answer, Kent spoke into the device. “Harbinger.”

  “Kent, what the hell are you doing with my fiancée’s phone?”

  It was Ruben.

  Eh. Kent would have to deal with that another day. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.” Pushing the button to end the call, Kent reclined his seat and leaned back. The cell immediately began ringing again, but Kent ignored it.

  A flight attendant moved down the aisle toward their row, leaning over the seats in front of them to speak to Kent. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and it appeared that her teeth were either veneers or had been bleached to a blinding whiteness.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to turn off your mobile device,” she said in the false dulcet tones of an annoyed flight attendant. “And please return your seat to its upright position.”

  “The phone I’ll turn off with pleasure,” Kent answered. “But I can’t do anything about the seat, I’m afraid.” He smiled at the woman, matching her tooth for tooth.

  “Oh, is it stuck?” she asked, her tone now concerned.

  “No. I just have internal injuries that keep me from being in an ‘upright position’,” Kent replied. “Got a note from my doctor and everything.” He made motions as if he was searching for the document, making certain that he moaned every time he moved.

  The attendant looked about the plane. “Well, there’s no one behind you,” she said. “So perhaps we can just keep this between ourselves for this once.”

  “You bet,” Kent whispered back, giving the woman a wink. She glanced at Nicole, looked down at her ring and Kent’s, then huffed and walked back toward the front of the plane.

  “You know, it’s really unfair,” Nicole complained. “You shouldn’t be able to get away with stuff like that.” She sighed. “Forget it. I’m just happy to be going home.”

  And so, Kent realized,
was he.

  Afterword

  Thank you very much for going on this adventure with Kent, Nicole and Kyra. Hopefully you enjoyed reading about their story as much as we enjoyed writing it.

  If you did enjoy Soho Slasher, we'd love to ask you a favor and go back to Amazon and leave a review. We indie authors live and die by our reviews!

  We’d also like to enlist your help. If you find any, and we mean any typos, spelling errors or anything funky, please contact us directly at authorbenhopkin@gmail.com. Even though this book has gone through a gazillion edits, we are all only human and your input is greatly appreciated!

  From time to time, we may add short stories to our novels. There is a new, easy and exciting way to update your collection. Go do it now so that you are ready for any updates whenever they appear…

  It is super simple, Sign into your account on Amazon.com then hit the “Your Account” button. Now hit “Manage My Kindle” (even if you don't have a Kindle this will update your preferences on your Kindle app). A new banner should read “Learn more about Auto-updates” Click on this link. It will take you to a window where you can opt into auto-updates. If you opt in, that means the day a collection is updated, it will whispersync to your Kindle or app automatically! Voila!

  You can read away. Once you opt in for auto-updates, you can just sit back and relax while you wait for the next book to upload. How awesome is that?

  Want to know the exact moment anything of mine that is new goes live?

  Sign up for updates from amazon.com itself on my author's page (if you go there, could you hit the “like” button as well? Thanks!)… Click on the "Stay Up to Date" link

  Looking for other great mysteries? Check out the Darc Murders Collection or the Nursery Rhyme Murders Collection. Need more suggestions? Check out the next section for more mystery/thrillers from Ben!

  Other Works by Ben Hopkin

  The Darc Murder Mystery Collection

  Praise for Darc Murders Mysteries...

  “A pathological serial killer is terrorizing Seattle and the only person standing in his way is Detective Robi Darcmel. From the chilling opening scene to the last lines of the first episode, I don't remember taking a deep breath. As one observer notes in the opening scene at the slaughter house to a man clearly intrigued by the sight and smell of blood, visceral and flesh--”You are one sick puppy, dude.” Indeed...This is a fascinating if horrific read. One of the most unusual “heros” I can imagine, Detective Robi Darcmel has Asperger's Syndrome… Be prepared to be shocked, and hooked.”