“No.”
I waited, but she wasn’t forthcoming with any further information. Which was damn annoying given that they supposedly wanted this case solved, and wanted my help to do it.
A slight smile teased her lips. The bitch might not be reading my mind, but she was certainly reading my reactions to this whole situation and enjoying them. And while she wanted my help to find the keys and—to a lesser extent, it seemed—to hunt down this killer, she was also very much a cat toying with a mouse it might yet decide to eat.
If the three council members didn’t devour me first.
“The first two victims had high-profile jobs in the advertising industry,” she drawled eventually. “The third was little more than a pen pusher in the local government’s vampire affairs department. The last two were living off charity.”
“If the first two victims were high profile, why did they come to a place like this? You’ve inferred this is not one of your more up-market blood whore clubs.”
“It isn’t,” Marshall said. “But there are some who do not wish their addiction to be known in the wider vampire community, and so they attend clubs that they would otherwise consider beneath them.”
Vamps like the first two victims might not want their addiction known, but in coming to this particular club, they’d served that information up to Hunter on a silver platter. And I had no doubt that she would use it to her own advantage. “How long has each of the victims been addicted?”
“All five were long-term addictives.”
“Define ‘long-term.’”
“Centuries rather than years.”
That raised my eyebrows. For some reason I’d been thinking blood whores were a modern phenomenon, but I guess it made sense that they’d been around almost as long as vampires. After all, addictions had been alive as long as humanity—it was just the substances that had changed over time.
“Meaning the Rakshasa could be specifically targeting those who have caused the most suffering.”
“It is a possibility.” Her tone suggested it was one they’d already thought of.
“So maybe all you have to do is tell longtime addictives to avoid the club until this thing is either caught or goes away.”
“That,” she said heavily, “is extremely naive thinking.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what you get when you expect a restaurateur to become a hunter.”
Her green eyes flashed again, and Amaya’s hissing suddenly sharpened—one bitch wanting to taste another’s blood.
I shivered again, suddenly realizing I was beginning to understand the static language of my demon sword. That was almost as scary as the four people who stood so elegantly in front of me.
“You are far more than just a restaurateur, Risa, and we both know it. Although your current level of questioning is more than a little disappointing.”
I wasn’t so worried about disappointing her right now—which was probably proof of my insanity—but rather the three silent council members. The tightly coiled energy radiating off them seemed to be getting stronger—even the ghosts were reacting to it. The moaning and wailing had sharpened to a continuous shriek that vibrated through every part of my being. Between it and Amaya, I felt like I was being torn apart by sound.
I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the assault on my senses, tried to think more like Aunt Riley. There had to be some similarities in all five murders besides this room and the manner of their deaths. If there was one thing I’d gleaned over the years from hanging around two guardians, it was the fact that most killings had a particular pattern, even if it wasn’t immediately evident.
“Okay, then, what about the times of their deaths?”
Hunter paused. “All between the hours of two and three. An exact time of death could not be determined due to the extensive damage done to the bodies.”
I frowned. “Does that mean you also have no idea when the inhibitor was introduced via the scratches? Or where it was applied?”
Marshall said, “I checked the security footage. All the victims bore scratches when they left this club, but this is not entirely unusual.”
They had good cameras installed if they could pick up minor scratches. “No, but in this situation, it’s definitely another link. What time did they all leave the club?”
“All five left at different times.”
I frowned. “So had they been here feeding beforehand for very long?”
“Yes,” Marshall said. “As has been noted, they were long-term addictives. Unfortunately, the longer the term, the greater the need.”