He withdrew Valdis. Her fire flickered across the dull concrete walls and danced through the darkness. "I will sense more than see if anyone nears."
I stepped to one side and waved him through. No one could ever accuse me of letting valor get the better of sanity—at least not when it came to stepping into dark vampire pits.
He moved into the stairwell, his steps barely audible on the concrete. I followed, keeping close, my fingers itching with the need to reach out and touch him—to keep a physical connection between us as the door silently closed and the shadows pressed close.
The walk down seemed to take forever, but in reality it was only a few minutes before the stairs gave way to a long corridor. The air here was cool and musty, and surprisingly free of the scent of vampire. Black tiles lined the walls and the floor was covered by a dark red rubber matting that swallowed all sound.
Valdis's bright flame lifted the darkness, revealing the doorway at the far end of the corridor. It was metal and extremely solid. Not something that would be broken down in any great hurry.
I glanced behind me, wondering if our astral-traveling Cazador was still following us.
No, Azriel said. He awaits on the street.
Wonder why?
Azriel shrugged. Maybe Hunter fears that one of the vampires in this place will sense him and give warning.
Maybe. And it was good to know that we weren't going to be shadowed absolutely everywhere.
The door opened as we approached. The room beyond was small and somewhat intimate in its feel. While the black and red theme continued here, electric wall sconces gave the room a muted warmth and the combination of blackwood furniture and well-padded sofas lent it a feeling of casual elegance. A small desk hugged the right side rear of the room, and behind it sat a woman. Like the room itself, she was black, from the tips of her hair to the leather pumps that were evident underneath the desk.
"Brett Marshall waits for you in the main room, Ms. Jones," she said in a smoky sort of voice. "Please go in."
Two doors—which I hadn't actually noticed until that point—slid silently open at her words, revealing a larger, darker room. The air that wafted out was filled with the aromas of vampire, blood, and hunger. A shiver ran through me as Amaya's hissing began to filter across the back of my thoughts.
I glanced at Azriel. How many people are there?
A dozen vampires, and at least twenty humans. Distaste ran through his thoughts. They are thralls, and yet not.