I gave Azriel a somewhat dark glance, then returned my gaze to Marshall. "I hope they realize this circus might well have caused us to miss the arrival of the Rakshasa—and wasn't killing her our actual reason for being here?"
"It is the reason you are in this club, yes," Marshall agreed, "but not the reason you are on this floor. And trust me, I am no more happy about this waste than you are."
"Then why the fuck didn't you do something to stop it? You run the damn place."
His expression darkened. "I may run it, but that doesn't mean I have free rein to do as I wish. And I am beholden to the council for certain supplies."
The blood whores, I thought wearily, and scrubbed a bloody hand across my face.
Marshall added, "And the Rakshasa would not have made an appearance as yet, simply because there has been no killing in that room."
I stared at him for a moment, his words echoing through my brain. "Meaning you know exactly when someone is going to be killed?"
He seemed surprised by the question. "Of course."
"So you send men and women in there to feed the vampires, knowing they're going to die?" I said it flatly, without emotion, even though anger boiled through me, a silent scream of anger that reminded me of Amaya.
"The blood whores in our employ know and understand the risks—and sign a document stating as much." He shrugged. "We do not, however, waste valuable stock. Only the older ones who are reaching the point where it is not economically feasible to keep repairing them."
Economically feasible. God, they really were treating the whores like cattle.
And that whole document-signing thing was a farce, because we weren't talking about regular blood whores here, but people who'd been born and bred for this life. I very much doubted they'd have any understanding at all of what they'd signed.
The fury continued to build in me, and Amaya's kill chant began inside my head again. The urge to do just that was so strong that my legs quivered with the need to move. I didn't, but it was such a close-run thing that it scared the hell out of me.
"I won't stay in this room," I said, through gritted teeth. "Give me another—preferably one with a sink so I can clean up."
He nodded and stepped back, waving us into the hall. I stepped over the bodies and various body parts, noting that the few vampires who were alive were quiet, and showing little of their previous almost insane hunger. Suggesting, perhaps, that it had been ramped up for the occasion by an outside force—either some sort of drug or another vampire.