“We left everything as we found it—foundthem,” she informed me.
The stale scent got worse as I entered the dimly lit chamber. My vision adjusted quickly, and I took in what appeared to be a common area with several thickly cushioned chairs and two long, deep-seated couches.
One of the chairs was occupied. A head rested against the back, its short, wavy brown hair ruffled by the churning ceiling fans.
“We found two in here during our evening patrols,” Hisa explained as I walked forward. Each Ascended’s home was checked in the morning and at night to make sure they were where they were supposed to be. “There are two more in one of the bedchambers down here and another in the other.”
Rounding the chair, I looked down. A man was seated, one leg crossed over the other, pale hands resting in the lap of his trousers. Next to him, a woman lay on her side on the floor, her long, golden hair splayed across the thick, gray carpet. My attention returned to the man. His clothing wasn’t wrinkled, nor were there signs of a struggle. My gaze lifted to his face.
I stiffened.
He appeared to be in his third decade of life or so, even though he could’ve been dozens of years older—if not hundreds. But his skin was like an elderly mortal’s: paper-thin, stretchedtaut over bone, and a ghastly shade of white—too pale for even an Ascended.
A few small drops of blood stood out on the high collar of his white shirt. Mortal eyes wouldn’t have seen them, but I did. I reached forward and carefully moved the stiff collar to the side.
He had two small puncture wounds on his throat, the edges of the torn skin purple.
Letting go of the collar, I knelt and turned to the woman on the floor. The others were quiet as I scooped the hair away from her neck, my fingers brushing her ice-cold skin.
I found the same wounds on her throat.
Wounds I knew hadn’t been made by any weapon. Fangs had done this.
The Ascended had been drained of blood.
What the fuck?
If not for my confusion, I would’ve thought an Ascended—a vampry—dying in the manner so many of their victims did was highly ironic.
“Are the others the same?” I rose.
Hisa nodded. “The bite marks are the only wounds we’ve been able to find.”
“They’ve been drained of blood.” I stated the obvious because it needed to be said. “Which doesn’t make sense.”
“Exactly.” Naill stood in the entryway, his arms crossed.
A vampry’s blood held no value. The Ascended fed on each other for pleasure, but I’d never heard of an Ascended draining another’s blood to the point of death.
I glanced around the space. Beside the chair was a gilded table with an ashtray and a half-smoked cigar next to a wineglass. “How many Ascended were supposed to be in this home?”
“When we placed them into lockdown, there were four,” she answered, resting a hand on the hilt of her sword.
I frowned and turned to Hisa. “Someone got in and out under our watch?”
“Ma’lin and Vasilis were covering this home,” she said. “They said no one came in or out.”
I knew Kastor Vasilis. He was a wolven roughly Jasper’s age. Ma’lin? It took me a moment to put a face to the name. Nerina. She had been in the Crown Guard for many years.
“They also confirmed that the four we found dead this evening were alive this morning.” Hisa paused. “I believe them. I also believe those stationed at the other homes—where you will find the same.”
I nodded absently and turned. Crossing the space, I checked the Ascended in the bedchambers, finding what Hisa had said. “And none of them showed any signs of struggle?”
“No.” Naill shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Not even a scratch.”
I walked out of the bedchamber and jerked to a halt. My gaze swung to the two in the common area. I started to move, then turned back to the two before me. My eyes narrowed. “So, they died somewhere in the last ten to twelve hours.”
“I was wondering when you would realize the next utterly unexplainable event,” Emil said. “They haven’t turned. They’re not Craven.”
