Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
No, she thought, teeth gritted, this was no time to lose it.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
She shook her head but that sound-the soft, wet splash of blood hitting a hard surface-didn't disappear. "The dripping," she said, realizing the sound wasn't in her head. Horror choked off her breath but she made herself move forward, through the gloom and toward the very end of the cavernous space.
The nightmare came into sight slowly.
At first, Elena couldn't make sense of it, couldn't figure out what it was that she was seeing. Everything was in the wrong place. It was as if some sculptor had gotten his pieces mixed up, stuck them into place while blindfolded. That leg, the bone, it had been driven through a woman's sternum, her torso ending in a bloody stump. And that one, she had beautiful blue eyes but they were in the wrong place, staring out at Elena from the gaping maw of her neck.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The blood, it was everywhere. She glanced down in fresh horror, terrified she was standing in it. Her relief was crushing when she saw the rivulets were sluggish, easy to avoid. But the bodies continued to drip, hanging from a tangle of rope like the most macabre of puzzles. Now that she'd looked down, she didn't want to look back up.
"Elena." The rustle of Raphael's wings.
"A minute," she whispered, her voice raw.
"You don't need to look," he told her. "Just follow the scent."
"I need an example of his scent before I can go anywhere," she reminded him. "What he gave Michaela-"
"Michaela destroyed the package. She was in hysterics. Do what you can here. We'll visit her afterward."
Nodding, she swallowed. "Tell your vampires to vacate the area around the warehouse-at least a hundred yards in every direction." There was too much sensory input, as if the sheer amount of blood was amplifying everything, even her own hunter abilities.
"It's being done."
"If any of them are like Dmitri, they need to get out completely."
"There are none. Do you wish to scent those who came inside, for elimination purposes?"
It was a good idea but she knew that if she turned her back on this madness, she'd never return. "Did any of them spend a lot of time near the bodies?"
A pause. "Illium took on the task of determining if any had survived."
"It's obvious they're dead."
"The ones on the floor-their fate wasn't immediately clear."
She'd been so horrified by the hanging bodies that she hadn't paid attention to the pile below. Or perhaps she hadn't wanted to see, to know. Now she did and wished she hadn't. Unlike the nightmare above, these bodies looked as if they were sleeping, one on top of another. "Were they arranged like that?"
"Yes." A new voice.
She didn't turn, guessing it to be Illium. "Are your wings blue?" she asked, coating her pity and sorrow in a casing of dark humor. These three girls below, they were so young, their bodies smooth, uncharted by age.