And in my head, the ghosts grieved and wept and raged at a world that wasn't capable of hearing.
Then it happened.
As the vampire sucked the last droplets of life from the woman, three bloody rents appeared on his back, stretching from his left shoulder to his right butt cheek. He snarled in fury and spun, but this foe was not one someone like him could see.
But the ghosts could, and they were screaming for murder, not just blood.
The Rakshasa obviously wasn't about to change the pattern of her hunt just to appease the ghosts, though, and nothing further happened. After a few minutes of somewhat confused searching, the vampire stepped over the broken body at his feet and left the room.
"The Rakshasa has also left," Azriel said. "But she waits outside for her victim."
I frowned as I pulled my shirt back on. "Will she sense us leaving?"
"I do not know how sensitive the Rakshasa is to those of us who guide and guard, so I cannot answer that."
It was a risk we would have to take if we were to have any chance of killing this thing. I walked over to the panel, found the intercom, and swiped my hand across it. "Marshall? You there?"
He didn't answer immediately, which suggested he hadn't been keeping an eye on us—although that didn't mean the council wasn't. When he finally came online, his blue eyes were bright and somewhat annoyed. I wondered what we'd interrupted. "What do you want?"
"I want the address of the vamp that's just left the ghost's room," I said without preamble. "The Rakshasa just marked him."
Marshall sucked in a breath. "So kill her."
I snorted. "If it was that easy, I wouldn't be here."
He grunted in acknowledgment of my point. "Jerry Harcourt was the vamp just in there. He rents a room in Lyle Place boardinghouse—it's only a few minutes down the road."
Which meant we'd better hurry if we wanted to set our trap. "Thanks."