"It's not like I planned such deaths," he said. My instinct said it was another lie. "But even if I had, what the hell do any of us have to fear from ghosts? They're not likely to be the cause of our current troubles, given that they have no flesh, let alone teeth."
"They may not be responsible," Azriel said, before I could reply, "but the depth of their anger and grief is certainly enough to attract other entities."
As Marshall's gaze swept Azriel, it narrowed a little. Trying to read him, I thought, and knew he'd have more luck trying to read the metal walls around us. After a moment, he must have realized this himself, for he said, "What other sorts of entities might we be talking about? Demons?"
"That is always possible, given what is going on elsewhere," Azriel replied. "But we should not limit our search to just demons. There are spirits more than capable of this type of kill. Wendigos and Rakshasa would be two of them."
"Rakshasa? I've never heard of them," Marshall said.
Neither had I, but I wasn't about to mention that.
Azriel glanced at me, amusement briefly creasing the corners of his eyes. "Rakshasa are unrighteous spirits—always female—able to take on various physical forms. Like Wendigos, they are malevolent and cannibalistic, and their fingernails are venomous."
"Well, both of those certainly fit what's happened to our victims." I crossed my arms and tried to ignore the rising sense of dread. I really, really didn't want to face a spirit that could take on human form and eat me, but I had a growing suspicion that such a confrontation lay in my future. "How do we go about catching and killing this thing, whatever it is?"
"It has found the perfect hunting ground in this place," Azriel said. "It will be back."
"Unfortunately, it's not exactly a place I can hang around very easily."
"In flesh form, no," Azriel agreed. "But you have other options."
Options I wasn't going to discuss with Marshall earwigging. I glanced at my watch and grimaced. It was nearly four. I had to be at the café in two hours—so much for my relaxing afternoon. "We need to check out the home of the last vamp who died before I have to go to work."
"Meaning I can open the feeding rooms now?" Marshall asked.
I studied him distastefully, wondering why nature had paired an uncaring heart with such a merry countenance. But I guess that could be said about a lot of successful businessmen, and that's all Marshall was. And the people who had died were nothing more than stock. "Yeah," I said, my voice barely civil. "Just not this one."
He didn't look pleased, but I guessed if he feared Hunter enough, he'd obey. And if not, he'd open the room again once I left, and bugger the consequences.