Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

No last name. But then, that was to be expected given that these people were being treated as little more than cattle. I guess they had to be thankful that they got a name rather than just a number.

I stepped into the room. The walls, floor, and bedding were all a soft green—a color that was renowned for enhancing the feeling of tranquillity and calm. The only splashes of color came in the form of a white bedside table and a bookcase filled with old books. There was no TV, no radio—in fact, nothing that would give this woman access to what was happening in the world beyond her cell.

As the door swished shut behind us, my gaze met Amanda’s. She was a generously built woman with thick brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and several chins. Marshall might not be giving his whores access to the outside world, but he obviously provided a bountiful table—which I guess made sense, considering how often the whores were fed from.

She was clothed in a checked cotton dress and lying on the bed, a book in one hand and a Coke sitting on the bedside table. Her eyes—which were an odd shade of green-gray—showed little in the way of interest.

“Amanda?” I spoke softly, though I wasn’t sure why. Marshall might not be able to hear me, but I had no doubt he was monitoring our every move, even if I couldn’t see any cameras. “I’m Risa Jones. I need to ask you a few questions.”

She didn’t respond, just returned her attention to her book. Obviously it was more interesting than I was. I glanced at it briefly. A romance—one I’d read and enjoyed.

I walked across the room—it took only three steps—and squatted beside the bed. “How long have you been here, Amanda?”

She shrugged and continued reading.

“Have you ever experienced any problems when you feed the vampires? Or witnessed such events?”

This time she didn’t even bother shrugging. Maybe I should have questioned the whore Marshall had been pointing me toward. Maybe he’d simply picked a more talkative one.

I made a frustrated sound and glanced at Azriel as he squatted beside me. “Well, this was a great idea.”

“Let me try,” he said, and lightly touched two fingers to Amanda’s forehead.

Her face went slack. Azriel closed his eyes and, for several minutes, there was little noise other than the sound of both my and Amanda’s breathing.

Then Azriel opened his eyes again. She cannot answer you, he said, his mind voice grim. Because she does not know.

How can she not know the answer to such basic questions? I asked, confused. I mean, even if Marshall has placed some sort of restriction on her ability to speak about her experiences here, it’d be right there in her memories, wouldn’t it?

It should be, but it’s not.

My gaze went to Amanda. So her memories have been cleansed?

Recent memories, yes. The touch is deft, but it was nevertheless there. It has Marshall’s taint.

His use of the word “taint” suggested he had no liking for Marshall, even if he showed no hint of it in any other way. What about her past? Has that been erased, as well?

He frowned, glancing at her. Valdis flickered with an odd purple-red fire. I wondered if it was anger or distaste.

Anger, Azriel said, and the woman’s past has not been erased. It simply does not exist.

I raised my eyebrows. How can her past not have been erased if she has no memory of it?

That I do not know. He rose and held out a hand. But you will get no answers from her, because she has none.

I placed my hand in his and let him pull me upright. He didn’t release me immediately and I can’t say I was upset about that. Something strange goes on here.

Which was definitely an understatement. Do you think it’s worth attempting to talk to any of the others?

He shrugged. We could try. I suspect the result would be the same.

So did I. Still, we had to try, if only to tell Hunter that we had. I pulled my hand from his, but curled my fingers to retain the heat of his touch a little bit longer as I walked across to the door and knocked on it. It opened immediately.>“Downstairs.”

“And the whores’ living quarters?”

“Also downstairs, but on a separate level.”

Living underground, never to see the light of day or breathe fresh air. It was a hell of a high price to pay for ecstasy.