Free Darkness Devours by Keri Arthur Page B

addicted. It was an almost incestuous relationship, one addiction feeding the other, a wheel in constant motion that no one could escape.
    You are not here to judge,
Azriel reminded me softly.
And the sooner you question him about the dead, the sooner we can be gone from this place.
    Good point. “Could one of the blood whores be a connection point between the men who died?”
    “No. We thought of that possibility—that perhapssomeone close to a whore might be taking a bit of retaliatory action—but the five men had different tastes when it came to their preferred source.”
    I frowned. “And there was no obvious connection between the men themselves?”
    He shook his head. “None that we could uncover.”
    Which meant I was totally out of ideas. Some investigator I was. I hesitated, then asked, “Where do the feeds happen? Out in the main bar?”
    “No. Watching another vampire feed can be an erotic experience, especially for one of the addicted. We keep the feedings in one-on-one soundproofed rooms. There is less chance of a frenzy being created that way.”
    And that, I thought with a chill, was his first real lie. There was too much desperation—and the scent of blood was too strong—in this place for the feedings to be entirely separated.
    “Where are these rooms?” I asked.
    “Downstairs.”
    “And the whores’ living quarters?”
    “Also downstairs, but on a separate level.”
    Living underground, never to see the light of day or breathe fresh air. It was a hell of a high price to pay for ecstasy.
    “Can we see the feeding rooms? And talk to a couple of the whores?”
    “Sure. But they have already been interviewed.”
    “And Hunter sent me here to do it all again.”
    He smiled. “And if one values life, one does not go against Hunter’s orders.”
    “Precisely.”
    He rose and headed for the door. I followed, Azrielat my back. As we headed left across the club floor, I noted that the scent of vampire and need seemed thicker than before. I edged a little closer to Marshall and said, “What time does this place start getting busy?”
    “Usually not until the sun sets. Most of our clients are lower-rung vampires and, as such, cannot handle much sunlight.”
    “Then why are there more vampires in here now than before?”
    He glanced over his shoulder. His expression was curious. Wary. “And how can you tell that?”
    “Werewolves tend to have sensitive noses.”
    He said “Ah” in a way that suggested he hadn’t known I was part wolf. Which was unusual, because vamps usually had no trouble differentiating between a human and a were. But then, I was only half were, so maybe that was screwing with his internal radar. Especially if he didn’t have a great deal to do with werewolves in the first place.
    He went through another door—one that led into a small foyer containing two elevators—before he answered the actual question. “The feeding rooms are flushed out after every session. The vampires within return to the bar when this happens.”
    “Flushed out?”
    He punched the DOWN button. “Cleaned and fumigated. If you are a wolf, you would have smelled the state of some of our customers. We may cater to the less fortunate among the vampire ranks, but that does not mean we can let our standards slip.”
    And I was betting that the flushing had little to dowith disease and pest control, and more to do with literal flushing. As in, the feedings often got a little more messy than what he was admitting.
    The elevator doors opened with a soft
ping
, revealing a dark wood interior and minimal light. It was only thanks to the fact that Azriel remained steadfastly at my back that I walked inside it.
    “I’ll take you down to the whores’ quarters first. By the time you’ve finished there, the cleanup will be done and you can look through the feeding rooms.”
    I nodded, although I wasn’t looking forward to either prospect. The doors closed and the elevator ground into action. As I watched