A voice that she easily crushed as the stench of rotting flesh became nearly overwhelming.
“Dios,” Santiago muttered. “What has that gargoyle done?” Levet abruptly stepped around a corner, his gray skin an ashen shade in the moonlight. “I did nothing beyond locate a room hidden behind a spell of illusion,” he said, defending himself.
Santiago made a sound of disgust. “That’s why we didn’t catch the stench miles away.”
Nefri muttered an ancient curse, infuriated by the knowledge she’d allowed Santiago’s arrival to distract her. She’d been too long behind the Veil. The constant peace and sense of security had dulled her senses and made her sloppy. “I should have searched for illusions the moment I arrived,” she chastised herself.
“Ah yes, I forgot that little talent,” Santiago drawled, referring to her rare ability to break through lesser spells.
“I wish I had left the illusion in place.” Levet shifted uneasily, his wings drooping. “I do not believe you want to see what has been done, ma chérie.”
Nefri was certain he was right. The smell alone was enough to make her stomach clench. And there was something else. Something as dark and ancient as time.
But she’d been sent by the Oracles for a reason. She couldn’t turn her back on her duty.
“Merci, Levet, but I must know what’s happened.”
“A massacre,” the tiny gargoyle breathed, reluctantly stepping aside as Nefri rounded the corner and moved toward the open door.
She’d barely reached the edge of the threshold when Santiago was angling to put his body between her and whatever was waiting inside, his sword drawn and his fangs exposed.
She rolled her eyes at his protective manner. She was one of the most powerful demons ever to walk the earth. The last thing she needed was a knight in shining armor. But even as the clan chief in her warned she needed to nip his Neanderthal behavior in the bud, another part was wryly accepting that Santiago was far too stubborn to be properly trained.
A knowledge that should have annoyed her, not sent a tiny thrill of excitement shooting through her heart.
The inane thought was swiftly forgotten as Santiago came to a sharp halt, his broad back tensing. “What the . . .” He made a sound of disgust. “Cristo. It looks like the set of Saw.”
She frowned in confusion. “What?”
“A horror flick.”
Nefri shuddered. Her time behind the Veil meant that she wasn’t always up to date with human entertainment, but she did know that the current trend in films included a lot of blood and violence.
Steeling her nerves, she forced herself to step past Santiago’s large body and studied the carnage spread across the room.
Levet had been right.
It was bad.
Even by demon standards.
The victims were all human, some male and some female, although it was nearly impossible to tell in the hideous mix of body parts, some of which were still shackled to the walls while others were piled in the middle of the blood-soaked floor.
“Were they tortured?” she asked, pointing to the knives and even an ax that were nearly hidden beneath the gore.
Santiago returned his sword to its scabbard, his expression grim. “Worse.”
“What could be worse?”
“They were forced to torture themselves trying to escape. The room reeks of . . .”
“Fear,” she finished for him, the lingering terror in the room crawling over her skin like an insidious disease.
They fell silent as they considered the slaughter. With an effort, Nefri coldly stripped away the horror of what she was seeing to concentrate on basic facts.
There were five—no six—humans spread across the wooden floor. They were all young, perhaps in their early twenties, and what was left of their clothing suggested they hadn’t been homeless. Local college students?
They’d been held in the room for at least a week and occasionally fed and watered if the amount of waste mixed in with the mess was any indication. They’d been physically fit. There was no other way they could have endured such punishment for such a length of time.