I'm a reaper. The human—and non-human—mind is open to us in all its chaotic glory.
So what can you tell me about Marshall's comment?
We go to meet others.
The elevator doors opened, revealing the basic metal corridor of the feeding rooms. Others? I asked silently, then glanced at Hunter. "Why the hell are we here?"
"I wish to see this room of ghosts," she said, as she stepped out of the elevator. "And it is as good a place as any to discuss what you need to know."
The others wait in that room. There are three—all vampires.
I hardly expected them to be anything else, given the place we were in, but the point was, why the hell were they there?
They are there to see you. To talk to you.
Oh god, I thought with sudden clarity. It's the council. Or part of the council.
Was it a trap? It couldn't be. Hunter wanted to use me; she didn't want me dead.
But Hunter wasn't the council. She didn't control it. Not yet.
I licked my lips and reluctantly trailed after her.
"Going to that room isn't a good idea." In more ways than one. And yet I couldn't retreat, couldn't run. Hunter might be striding purposefully toward the feeding room, but there was a coiled readiness in every moment. She would react—fast and brutally—if I ran. "The fact that they're ghosts doesn't mean they're incapable of understanding everything that goes on in that room. If we discuss anything there, they might just pass the information on to whatever is causing this."
She glanced over her shoulder at me. "I know."
I blinked. That wasn't exactly the answer I'd been expecting. "Maybe I'm a little slow, but wouldn't the ghosts passing on the information mean the killer may run?"