Darkness Devours (10 page)

I stared at him as the realization of what was happening in that room sank in.
That’s
why the antiseptic was so strong. They were cleaning, all right, only it wasn’t for the dirt, blood, and bugs that might come off their clients. It was the bloody remnants of humanity they were washing away.

I turned my back on him, my fists clenched against the sudden rise of anger. I hated what this place was doing to people. Hated that I couldn’t do anything about it. Because of Hunter, because of the threat she represented—not just to me but to all those I cared for. And even to those I didn’t, like Jak.

Azriel touched my back again, but this time the
surge of warmth failed to calm. I took a deep breath that did just as little, then walked toward that room.

The closer I got, the more my skin crawled.

I reached out and gripped the handle. The metal felt cold under my touch. Cold and somehow otherworldly.

There are ghosts within,
Azriel said.
Many, many ghosts
.

I wasn’t afraid of ghosts. I never had been. Until now. I licked my lips and pushed the door open.

It hit me. Not the ghosts themselves, but rather their anger. The force of it was so strong it thrust me back into Azriel. He grabbed my waist, holding me upright as I battled to breathe against the sheer force of emotion that was battering us.

It wasn’t ordinary anger. It was
murderous
.

These ghosts were angry enough to kill.

And maybe even had.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, staring into the room with wide eyes. The ghosts were filmy wisps, but there were so many of them that their presence made the room appear fog-bound. “Can you feel that?”

“They are not pleased about something,” Azriel agreed. His body was pressed against mine, an oddly comforting sensation.

“That is an understatement,” I muttered, knowing I should move and yet reluctant to do so. He didn’t seem inclined to move, either. “Can ghosts actually muster the energy to kill?”

“No. As many as there are here, they would never hold enough power to take one life, let alone five. Besides, the victims were poisoned and then eaten. That is not the behavior of ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” Marshall said, suddenly appearing beside us. He’d moved so silently I hadn’t even heard his approach.

I nodded toward the room. “There’s at least twenty in there, which suggests to me you’ve been understating what actually goes on in this room.”

“I haven’t understated anything. The joint feedings
are dangerous. I told you that.” He peered into the room. “I can’t see any ghosts.”

“If you’re not psychic, you wouldn’t.” I somewhat reluctantly pulled away from the comfort of Azriel’s support. “Did any of our victims use this room?”

His gaze met mine. “Yes.”

“All of them?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

Which meant this room—and these ghosts—was the connection. But why the depth of anger? I frowned at the swirling, ethereal mass. If I wanted answers, I really had no other option but to go in there and try to talk to them.

Whether they’d be willing to talk to
me
was another matter entirely. I wasn’t my mother, and talking to the souls of those who’d refused—or been unable—to move on from this world wasn’t something I’d ever tried before. My strength lay in talking to the souls of those who still lived but were close to the next world—the sick, the dying, the comatose.

Although Tao’s soul had remained elusive to even me.

I flexed my fingers, suddenly aware of Amaya’s hissing again. Her energy swarmed down my spine, pinpricks of power that tickled and burned. She wanted in that room. Maybe demons weren’t the only thing she liked to eat.

I shivered, though I wasn’t sure whether the cause was my sword’s apparently insatiable hunger or the waves of emotion continuing to roll out of the feeding room. I glanced Marshall’s way again. “I want a list of everyone who died in here.”

“That is not—”

“Do it for me, or do it for Hunter. Your choice.” And we both knew Hunter wouldn’t take no for an answer, so there really wasn’t any choice in the matter. “I don’t know if the dead in here
are
the connection, but it’s a possibility we need to follow.”

He nodded, though his expression suggested he was far from happy. Not that I really gave a damn about that. I took a deep, steadying breath, then stepped into the room. The energy of the ghosts crawled across my skin and the air felt like molasses with the intensity of their anger. Amaya’s hissing intensified, and the sound met the fury of the ghosts head-on and countered it. Enough that I could breathe a little more easily, anyway.

I studied the vaporous forms flitting around me. I could see them, feel them, and if I concentrated hard enough, I could hear them. But it was a very distant thunder, unclear but nevertheless threatening.

“Are you seeking revenge?” I asked them.

The rhythm of their murmuring neither increased nor decreased. Either they couldn’t hear me or they were simply ignoring me.

I frowned, but tried again. “Are you responsible for the deaths of five addicted vampires?”

Still nothing in the way of any discernible response. Frustrated, I glanced at Azriel, but he merely shrugged. “As I have said before, I am neither able nor allowed to communicate with the lost ones.”

Which left us with little more than we’d already had. I glanced around the metal emptiness of the room, trying not to visualize how they’d all died, then spun on my heel and walked out. To say Amaya was unhappy
with this was another one of those understatements. And her pissed-off hissing was giving me a damn headache.

As the door slammed shut behind me and the sound echoed down the long hall, I said to Marshall, “I suggest you stop using that room. It wouldn’t be wise to introduce any more anger into it.”

“It’s not like I planned such deaths,” he said. My instinct said it was another lie. “But even if I
had
, what the hell do any of us have to fear from ghosts? They’re not likely to be the cause of our current troubles, given that they have no flesh, let alone teeth.”

“They may not be responsible,” Azriel said, before I could reply, “but the depth of their anger and grief is certainly enough to attract other entities.”

As Marshall’s gaze swept Azriel, it narrowed a little. Trying to read him, I thought, and knew he’d have more luck trying to read the metal walls around us. After a moment, he must have realized this himself, for he said, “What other sorts of entities might we be talking about? Demons?”

“That is always possible, given what is going on elsewhere,” Azriel replied. “But we should not limit our search to just demons. There are spirits more than capable of this type of kill. Wendigos and Rakshasa would be two of them.”

“Rakshasa? I’ve never heard of them,” Marshall said.

Neither had I, but I wasn’t about to mention that.

Azriel glanced at me, amusement briefly creasing the corners of his eyes. “Rakshasa are unrighteous spirits—always female—able to take on various physical forms.
Like Wendigos, they are malevolent and cannibalistic, and their fingernails are venomous.”

“Well, both of those certainly fit what’s happened to our victims.” I crossed my arms and tried to ignore the rising sense of dread. I really,
really
didn’t want to face a spirit that could take on human form and eat me, but I had a growing suspicion that such a confrontation lay in my future. “How do we go about catching and killing this thing, whatever it is?”

“It has found the perfect hunting ground in this place,” Azriel said. “It will be back.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not exactly a place I can hang around very easily.”

“In flesh form, no,” Azriel agreed. “But you have other options.”

Options I wasn’t going to discuss with Marshall earwigging. I glanced at my watch and grimaced. It was nearly four. I had to be at the café in two hours—so much for my relaxing afternoon. “We need to check out the home of the last vamp who died before I have to go to work.”

“Meaning I can open the feeding rooms now?” Marshall asked.

I studied him distastefully, wondering why nature had paired an uncaring heart with such a merry countenance. But I guess that could be said about a lot of successful businessmen, and that’s all Marshall was. And the people who had died were nothing more than stock. “Yeah,” I said, my voice barely civil. “Just not this one.”

He didn’t look pleased, but I guessed if he feared Hunter enough, he’d obey. And if not, he’d open the room again once I left, and bugger the consequences.

“Excellent,” was all he said.

He motioned us toward the elevator. It bounced us up to the lower ground floor and we stepped once more into the stinking morass of needy vampires.

I crossed my arms and followed Marshall through the darkness. The flickering light of the two swords cast eerie shadows across the gaunt faces of the nearest vampires, and it was all I could do to keep walking at a steady pace.

It was a huge relief to reenter the little foyer and watch the double doors close securely behind us.

“We’ll be in contact if we need anything else,” I said, clasping Marshall’s offered hand. This time his grip was much stronger. “What was the name of the last victim, by the way?”

Hunter may have sent me his name and address, but it never hurt to double-check. She liked her games.

Marshall seemed amused, and I suspected its cause was Hunter’s aversion to information giving. Obviously, he was well acquainted with it. “Jake Green. What about the ghosts?”

I shrugged. “I’ll tell Hunter. She’ll probably know someone who can disperse them for you.”

Which wouldn’t solve anything if he just kept on creating more of them, but that really wasn’t my problem right now.

Although it might be in the future.

Azriel touched a hand lightly to my back, guiding me out the front door and into the black and red hall. Valdis gave me enough light to see by, although her flames still held a tinge of red. Thankfully, Amaya had calmed somewhat, though I think it was going to take
hospital-strength painkillers to get rid of the headache she’d given me. To be fair, though, that could just as much have been caused by the situation we’d been in as by her song.

“Where to next?” Azriel asked, as he began climbing the steps.

The street-level door opened as we approached and the sudden rush of sunlight had me blinking back tears. “According to Hunter, Jake Green lived about five minutes away, on Little Miller Street. Flat one-twelve. I’ll meet you there.” I looked around, wondering where the Cazador was.

“He awaits near your motorbike,” Azriel said and winked out of existence.

I grimaced and made my way back to my bike. It was tempting to look around to see if I could pinpoint our shadow’s position, but that might only give the game away. He might be invisible, but I doubted he was dumb. I climbed onto my bike and rode across to Little Miller Street.

It turned out Green’s flat wasn’t actually a flat, but an old redbrick warehouse that had been turned into accommodations for the homeless. I studied the building for a moment, then turned the bike around and parked farther down the street, near another—cleaner—factory. Maybe I was doing the homeless a great injustice, but I’d rather be safe than sorry when it came to my bike. Azriel was waiting out in the front. I opened the somewhat grubby-looking door and stepped into the carpeted foyer. Inside were two people; the woman behind the desk was tall, thin, and blond, and she looked somewhat harassed. The man standing in front
of the desk was older, grimier, and smelled of dirt, urine, and booze. And he didn’t sound happy—although it was hard to say since he wasn’t actually speaking English.

The woman’s gaze landed on us. “I don’t suppose either of you speak German, do you? I only know a couple of phrases.”

I shook my head, but Azriel stepped forward and touched the man on the shoulder. He said something in the same guttural tones that the man was using, got a reply, then turned to the woman. “His name is Hans Klein and he is seeking accommodation for the night. He has fourteen dollars.”

As Azriel said this, Hans dumped his money on the counter. It was grubbier than he was. The blonde didn’t bat an eyelid—she was obviously used to it. “Could you explain that he has to fill out these forms? Can he write?”

Azriel asked, then nodded and said, “We are here to view room one-twelve.”

“Jake Green’s room?” Her gaze came to me. “Are you Risa Jones? If you are, we were told to expect you.”

Obviously, Hunter had been in contact with her. Either that, or she was psychic. I showed her my driver’s license and, once she’d checked it, she put a key on the desk. “Up the stairs, second to last door on the right.”

“Thanks.” I swept up the key and headed for the stairs. The hall above was basic but clean, and I suspected the same would apply to the rooms themselves. But to the homeless, basic was probably like five-star to us. I glanced at Azriel. “How come you know German?”

“Reapers do not only collect English-speaking souls.”

“I know, but isn’t it against the rules for reapers to communicate with the souls they collect?”

“There is no rule against it, but generally most souls have no desire to speak. However, there are always one or two who like to talk.” His amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You would be one of them, I think.”

“Are you suggesting I talk too much?”

“I would never suggest anything like that,” he said, the gravity in his voice belied by the twinkle in his eyes, “even if it is true.”

I laughed, though the sound died on my lips as the smell of death began to invade the air. I stopped in front of room one-twelve, staring at the police tape that barred our entrance. Even though I wasn’t squeamish, I really didn’t want to go in there. I’d been in the presence of death far too much today.

“I can view it alone, if you prefer,” Azriel said.

I shook my head. “The Directorate sets up mobile recording units at crime scenes. Hunter will know if I don’t go in there.”

“But this is not a Directorate investigation.”