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“Please,” he said, and motioned us on.
Our footsteps echoed as we climbed. The metal door at the top was open and the room beyond filled with shadows despite the bright array of lights that constantly swept across the dark windows. A black glass desk dominated the rear portion of the room; a couple of plush-looking chairs sat at the front of this and a third behind it.
Maelle stood near the glass panel with her back to the door but turned as we entered. Tonight she wore a Regency riding habit that was dark blue in color and had gold braid across her chest. Her rich chestnut hair had been plaited and curled around the top of her head and looked rather crown-like. Her porcelain skin was perfect; there were no lines on her face and absolutely no indication that she was, in fact, centuries old—if not older.
Her lips were a stark contrast to her skin, though the deep ruby red was not due to lipstick but was rather an indicator of how recently she’d fed. It was a sight that always had relief surging—I’d already survived one vampire attack and I had no intention of going through that again. And while Maelle had vowed to the council not to drink from the unwilling, she also seemed rather determined to taste the power in my blood.
“What murders do you wish to speak to me about?” Her softly accented voice carried easily over the thumping base of the music coming from below. “The only death the gossips whisper about is that of the groom late last week.”
“The person behind that one struck again last night.”
“Another groom?”
“It was a newlywed couple this time.” I hesitated. “The rangers initially suspected a vampire, but it hasn’t the usual hallmarks.”
“So you’ve come to the local expert for advice?” Her expression was amused, thankfully. She motioned toward the cha
irs in front of the desk, her movement elegant. “Please, sit. Can I get either of you a drink?”
“Thanks, but no.” Belle perched on the edge of the chair, her spine stiff.
And with good reason, came Belle’s thought. The bitch might want to taste your blood, but she wants me in her bed.
Oh, I don’t think you’ll escape the whole blood thing. I think that’s part and parcel of her loving. To Maelle, I added, “A sparkling water will be fine, thanks.”
She handed me my drink and then picked up hers and sat down at the desk. The liquid inside the glass was thick and a deep red in color, and I had a suspicion it wasn’t tomato juice.
“Give me the details of these murders.” She took another sip that left her lips an even richer color.
I thrust down the mild rise of horror and obeyed.
She frowned. “You are right—while there are certainly vampires who prefer to drain, few would eat the flesh of their victims, let alone go to the trouble of extracting the heart in such a manner.”
“Why’s that?” Belle asked. “Vampires are capable of processing food and liquids, aren’t they?”
“Liquids, yes, but we only consume food on rare occasions, when it is necessary for appearances’ sake.” She shrugged. “The change we undergo to become eternal alters the structure of our digestive system, and leaves us incapable of processing solid food. The result can be… unpleasant.”
If the woman who’d rolled around in the bloody remnants of a body that had exploded right here in this room considered the results of eating unpleasant, then it was not something I ever wanted to see.
“Do you have any idea what sort of creature might be responsible for these deaths?”
“There are many who would fit the bill, and this reservation has already seen a number of them.” She took another sip of her drink. I hadn’t thought her lip color could get any deeper, but I was wrong. They were so damn dark now, they were almost black. “But you have suspicions, do you not?”
“We were thinking it might be some sort of ghoul.”
“Perhaps, although the fact there was nearly a week between attacks would suggest it is not a standard ghoul.” She paused. “If one has come into the reservation, however, that is grave news indeed.”
Belle frowned. “Why? I mean, they’re no worse than some of the other supernatural critters that have hunted here.”
“Except many ghouls have insatiable appetites.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Belle muttered. “This reservation doesn’t appear to attract the milder form of evil.”
“Indeed it does not.” The glint in Maelle’s eyes suggested she was including herself in that statement. Her gaze switched to me, and the glint was replaced by something altogether more intent. “Why was your café attacked this evening?”
I blinked even as my stomach twisted. “Who told you that?”
She waved a hand. “Anyone with an ounce of magical knowledge would have seen the dismembered threads carried on the wind.”
