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She nodded, and swept rather regally from the room, the three councillors following silently in her wake. The dark energy of their presence seemed to linger long after they’d gone.
“Risa,” Marshall said, the sudden sound of his voice making me jump. “You need to step inside. Our first customer will arrive in a few minutes.”
Oh god. I closed my eyes for a moment, then, with Amaya spitting fire all over the place, I forced my feet forward and entered the box-room. It was even smaller than it looked, barely big enough to hold two chairs. Interestingly, there was a camera discreetly placed in one corner, and the back wall was not only padded, but had hand grips. I didn’t want to know why. I really didn’t—but that didn’t stop my imagination throwing up all sorts of sick possibilities.
The door whooshed shut and the darkness closed in. As did fear.
“Are you all right?” Azriel asked.
“No, I’m fucking not,” I snapped. Amaya’s hissing increased, buzzing through my brain like a saw, sharp and hungry. Her fire spilled across the darkness, giving it a creepy glow. I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. It didn’t do a whole lot to ease either her noise or the tension and dread roiling around inside me. “Sorry. This isn’t your fault.”
“No,” he agreed. “But that does not mean I cannot help you.”
I eyed him for a minute, then said, “How?”
“You do not need to be here to watch. I can do that.”
“Nice thought, but there’s one problem.” I pointed at the camera. “We’re not the only ones watching. And we have no idea whether it’s Marshall, Hunter, or those fucking councillors behind that camera.” Hell, for all I knew, they could be recording everything we said, as well.
“I could find out.”
“And what good would knowing do? It doesn’t alter the fact that I have to stay here for the entire evening.”
He fell silent, but the room beyond suddenly wasn’t. The ghosts began to moan, the sound one of agitation and horror. It crawled across my skin like a rash, making me itch. Making me shiver.
Then came the sound of footsteps. Two pairs entering, one leaving. A blood whore being delivered. My stomach began to churn. I couldn’t listen to this. I really couldn’t.
“Then don’t,” Azriel said, and touched two fingers to my forehead lightly. “Sleep, Risa. I will guard this night.”
“I can’t—” But the protest died on my lips. Sleep closed in and I knew no more.
I woke hours later, feeling stiff and less than refreshed. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, mingling with the stench of antiseptic. In the other room, someone whistled tunelessly, the sound grating across waking nerves.
I stretched, trying to work the kinks out of my body, and realized I was lying across the two chairs, my back against the padded wall and my coat under my head. I opened my eyes. Azriel leaned against the far wall, underneath the camera. His arms were crossed and his eyes were hooded. But a strange red-purple fire flickered along Valdis’s sharp sides.
“I should be angry at you for knocking me out like that,” I said. “But all I want to know is, can you force me to do things other than making me sleep?”
His gaze met mine briefly, then pulled away. “If I could, you can be assured that I would have by now.”
I could hear no lie in his words, and relief slithered through me. I pushed rather stiffly upright and said, “I’m gathering nothing happened?”
“Plenty happened,” he said, his voice harsh. “But it wasn’t the sort of action we seek.”
I glanced at him sharply. “You’re angry.”
“Obviously.”
“Why?”
He flicked a hand toward the other room. “What happens in that room is beyond an abomination. Yet there is nothing I can do about it.”
“Reaper rules?”
“Reaper rules,” he agreed grimly. “Sometimes, I wish—” He stopped, then shrugged. “But I cannot. This perversity is one of human nature, and therefore it is something I am not able to stop.”
I swung my feet off the other chair, wincing a little as stiff muscles protested the movement. “Why the anger now? Why not before, when we first discovered the truth about this room?”
“Before there were merely words and ghosts. Tonight, there was death, and a soul being set free by the brutal death of her body. Blood whores may be well aware of the risks involved in their addiction, but those who work here are not. It goes against every instinct to simply stand here and listen to that happen, Risa.”
