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Although if Mariehadset a trap in the very heart of Maelle’s powerbase, something must have gone seriously wrong for our resident vamp.
Like, Roger was dead, and she was captive somewhere. Although I couldn’t imagine Maelle allowing herself to be taken without one hell of a fight, even if Roger was the price she paid.
I ignored the whisper that suggested intuition rather than reason was right on the money—if not now, then not too far ahead in the future—and, with wisps of inner wild magic buzzing all around me, walked across the road. The sheer weight of silence that surrounded the building felt deeply, darkly menacing.
Trepidation increased, although my psychic senses weren’t yet picking up anything untoward. The outer doors were closed but not, I soon discovered, locked. I opened one warily and peered inside, all my senses, physical and magical, alert.
And caught the faintest metallic scent.
Blood.
Fuck.
I pressed back against the half-open door and slowly, carefully, eased inside. Nothing had changed in the brief time since I’d last been here. The foyer area remained empty, and plastic still covered the entry into the main bar.
The farther I stepped inside, the stronger that metallic scent became. I still wasn’t hearing any movement, and there was no hint of magic. There wasn’t even the lingering remnants of darker magic, and there should have been if there’d been an attack on Maelle’s base. She definitely wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. Hell, if her earlier comments were anything to go by, she’d have welcomed it, simply because such an attack would counter the restrictions the turning ceremony had placed on her.
When I reached the plastic covering the door, I pushed one edge aside with the knife and peered inside. The place was darker than hell itself and just as fucking hot.
Not that I’d personally been to hell, but hey, I’d read the stories.
I created a light sphere and cast it forward. If there was someone or something waiting deeper within the building, it would give warning that I was here. But if that something waiting was vampires, it wouldn’t actually matter. They’d have sensed my erratic heartbeat as soon as I’d entered.
The sphere’s light cast warmth across the area directly ahead of the door, but long shadows continued to haunt the vast spaces beyond the sphere’s reach.
At first glance, it appeared nothing had changed since I was last here, and to me that was just more evidence to the fact that something had happened. Maelle had been pulling out all the stops—magical and physical—to get the building up and running ASAP. I couldn’t imagine her just letting everyone down tools and take a break.
I frowned and cast the light toward the ceiling. The front face of the control unit the electrician had been working on was back in place, and there wasn’t a dark stain underneath it to suggest Maelle had forgotten about the man and let him drop. Which was a relief, though it was somewhat tempered by the fact that I couldn’t see anything else close by to explain the scent.
I eased inside the main room then stopped to the right of the plastic and moved the sphere’s position. Its light caressed the various bits of building equipment and tools piled on the floor near the base of the steps, but the bar remained in shadows. I flicked the light in that direction. The blood scent wasn’t coming from that area, but I wasn’t about to take one step farther until I was sure the shadows there hid nothing unusual.
They didn’t, as it turned out.
I nevertheless ran the sphere down the bar’s full length. The marble’s purple veins gleamed in the soft light despite the faint coating of grit and sawdust on its surface. I warily inspected the long walkway between it and the currently empty alcohol fridges lining the wall. Still nothing. The danger—and the blood—I sensed definitely wasn’t coming from this area.
Which only confirmed what I already knew.
I swept the light across the building’s rear wall and then around to the staircase leading up to Maelle’s lair. It was open, which didn’t really mean anything, as it had been the first time I’d come back here.
I moved the light on toward the booths and discovered two more had been completed since I’d last been here. Which wasn’t all that much progress in the scheme of things.
I flicked the sphere back to the entrance into Maelle’s lair. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to go up there and check. I flexed my fingers against the hilt of my dagger, then headed down the steps, my footsteps echoing softly on the bare concrete.
The closer I got to the staircase, the stronger the blood scent became. I pushed the sphere into the stairwell and spotted a bloody handprint that was little more than a red smear across the marble’s purple veins. I swore softly and scanned the walls and steps above me, searching for bloody puddles or, God help me, bits of flesh and gore. But that lone print was the extent of it.
Instinct was pretty damn certain I’d find a while lot more than bloody prints in Maelle’s lair, but she refused to say whose.
Which meant there was only one way to find out.
I edged up the steps, my back against the wall opposite the bloody print and the knife held in front of me. The silence was oppressive, as was the heat, though the sweat trickling down my spine had very little to do with the latter.
I reached the top step, then paused. There was another bloody print on the wall beside the door into Maelle’s office. Someone had obviously pressed one hand against it while they opened the door with the other.
Did the fact the door no longer remained open mean whoever had might yet wait inside?
I still wasn’t sensing any sort of presence—magical or not—but that didn’t mean squat when we were dealing with vamps capable of transport spells.
I didn’t want to go inside. I really didn’t.
