Page 27 of The Bloody Ruin Asylum & Taproom (Sam Quinn #7)

“I believe,” Vlad said, “if you’ll recall correctly, I’m the one who interrupted, asking why we were meeting in one of the least hospitable locations in the Guild.

Sam was merely coming up with a way to make this tunnel entrance more comfortable.

You’re the one who blew up for no reason.

” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Now that that is settled, what do you have to tell us?”

Cadmael closed his eyes briefly and then said, “Like Thomas, Henry”—he glanced at me—“the other Australian Counselor, has been seeking me out for no discernible reason this past week, dropping comments about how he thinks the Guild may be overstepping in some respects.

“After I walked the townspeople out with you, he came back with Thomas, wondering why I didn’t see feeding from humans to be our right. They launched into age-old arguments about not denying our nature or hiding our power.”

Giving his head a quick shake, he added, “I’ve heard the same points countless times over the millennia and the answer is always the same. Humans outnumber us and we are powerless during the day.”

“The ones who are pushing for the dissolution of the Guild,” Vlad said, “are too young to have experienced what it was like when Hunters ruled.”

“We live quite comfortably in the shadows,” Clive said.

“Making ourselves known to the world will not only inspire a new generation of Hunters but will cause governments and banks to seize our assets.” He finally released the arm around me.

“They’ve obviously never had to feed from livestock in the fields or hide in sewers to escape the sun. ”

“It’s not just the Australian Counselors,” Cadmael said. “At least one of the Asian Counselors—Dakila—seems to be spending a great deal of time with them.”

“Perhaps instead of these interminable meetings, we should have history lessons,” Clive said.

“Maybe you should,” I suggested. “The internet is everywhere. Get a channel or site, one you need a password for or an invitation to, and fill it with interviews with older, more experienced vampires. Don’t show faces or names, just stories.

Teach the youngsters that their desire to be rock stars will lead to your extermination. ”

They were silent. Whatever. I thought it was a good idea.

“I like that,” Clive finally said. “If someone finds it who shouldn’t, they’re anonymous stories that could just as easily be fiction or the work of a conspiracy theorist in a basement.”

Both Vlad and Cadmael looked thoughtful, considering.

“In fact,” I added, “we can set it up that way. Make it look like the ravings of a nutjob. Lame graphics. A black background with red font so bright it makes your eyes water. It’ll be too embarrassingly bad to be real.”

Vlad nodded slowly. “It won’t change the minds of the zealots, but it might sway those who are unsure.”

“In the meantime,” Cadmael said, “we need to keep those three from destroying the Guild.”

Is Sebastian still in the hall?

I checked. Yep.

Clive rested his palm on the door. “Sebastian is outside. We shouldn’t all go out at once.”

Vlad gave Clive an appraising look and then said, “Wait here. I’ll lead him away.” With one more wary glance at Clive, Vlad went through the door.

Nice! Now Vlad isn’t sure what other gifts you might have, I said to him.

It doesn’t pay to be boring or predictable.

At least not around vamps. Can we eat now? I’m starving.

You tell me, Clive said. Have they gone?

I checked. No vamps. “Let’s go,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Show me where the kitchen is.” Clive and I were ignoring Cadmael. He could come or go as he saw fit. I didn’t want to spend more time with him than was absolutely necessary.

How’s your throat? Clive asked.

Okay. He wasn’t trying to kill me. If he had been, I’d be dead. He hates wolves and really wanted me to shut up.

I’m sorry, he said. I’ve known Cadmael for centuries. I have no idea why he has such an issue with you.

I don’t want to think about him anymore. I just want to eat.

We slipped around the door and strode down the hall.

The kitchen is in the opposite wing. We were still speaking mind-to-mind. There was no point in letting anyone who might be listening know where we were going.

The men’s side? Dang. So far, I’d only dealt with female ghosts—I couldn’t believe I’d only now realized that. Men had been in this asylum too. I’d seen the two male attendants. Did they stick to their wing even in death?

As we walked across the white marble of the entry, I slowed.

The ghosts I was already dealing with were bad enough.

If the men hadn’t realized I was here, I didn’t want to announce it by walking through their wing.

Of course, I did know how to get rid of them, assuming they understood Hungarian, or now Romanian.

Problem? Clive asked.

I sped up. No, just thinking. My stomach growled.

We turned down the hall into what used to be the men’s wing.

There are offices here for each of the Guild members, including a suite of rooms: sitting room, bedroom, bathroom, et cetera, Clive told me.

Vlad has rooms up here but stays in the basement?

Apparently, Clive responded. One would assume he finds face-gnawing ghosts and the stench of dead vermin preferable to living beside others of our kind.

I don’t know, I replied. He’s probably not wrong.

Clive opened the door to a large—and thankfully empty—kitchen. The cabinets were a country white, the appliances a smokey steel. White marble floors continued into this room, the counters a darker, gray-veined marble.

He pointed at a pantry door. “I found the protein bars in there.”

I went to the overlarge refrigerator first, looking for real food. There were steaks, but I didn’t want to take a Renfield’s dinner. I mean, were they dicks to me? Sure, but that didn’t mean it was cool for me to steal their food.

Opening one of the drawers, I found sliced lunch meats. “Did you happen to see where the bread was? I can make a sandwich and take it back with me.”

Clive opened the door to the pantry, looked in, and came back with a loaf of dark brown bread.

“Perfect.” I grabbed condiments, along with a tomato, and got to work. “If you have vampy things to do, go ahead.”

He watched me for a moment more. I’ll go find Sebastian. See if I can find out how deep in this he is, how rotten the Guild has become.

Be careful. Cornered animals lash out.

He gave me a kiss and went in search of answers.

I finished making the sandwich, put things away, and took a large bottle of water and some candy bars from the pantry. As I headed for the door, though, the overhead lights flickered and went out as the ghost of an attendant walked in, his eyes gleaming silver.

Grinning, leering, he sauntered in, forcing me back. He reached out a hand, running a finger down my cheek. It was a whisper against my skin but I felt it, and he knew it. His gaze fired as he tried to force me into the corner.

Hands full, I pushed with my magic. Megy!

He staggered back, bared his teeth, and then dove at me.

I was slammed into the cabinet behind me, bouncing my head off the corner of the wooden uppers.

I had the presence of mind to at least drop the plated sandwich on the counter as I was sliding to the floor, water bottle and candy bars raining down around me.

I’m walking down a tiled hall. A gas lamp sputters sickly yellow light. Something feels off. Passing by a door, a man’s face suddenly fills the window as he pounds on the wood, shaking the door in its frame.

A large, meaty fist shoots out, hitting the door beneath the window, and the patient falls back. Angry, sneering words in Hungarian issue from my mouth.

No wonder I feel weird. I’m in a bigger, taller body. I don’t want to be in this guy’s head. I recognized him in the kitchen. He’s one of the men who attacked Léna on her first night.

He stops at the next door, uses his key to let himself in. A sweaty old man with an uneven beard is lying in his bed. The smell is overwhelming. The man has soiled himself. He raises a frail arm, barely lifting it off the mattress. His voice is weak, but he seems to be asking for help.

The attendant lifts the thin blanket, sees the mess, and curses at the old man, shaking his head and walking out. In the hall, he locks the door again. Another attendant comes around the corner, and they talk. The asshole forcing me on this ride-along points back at the door we just exited.

The other attendant shakes his head and begins to move on, but Asshole grabs the other guy’s arm and yanks him back, sending him into the wall. Voice deep, he seems to threaten the other one and then walks on.

A door opens to the left and a slight man with dark, thinning hair and a mustache, wearing a white coat, waves in the asshole. A dirty, sweaty man in his forties is strapped to the bed, but one of the straps—on his right wrist—was ripped, or perhaps bitten through.

The patient is waving the freed fist, trying to hit the White Coat. The White Coat moves his little table on wheels away from the bed and says something to the attendant, who pulls a new strap from his pocket.

The angry man’s focus changes from White Coat to Asshole, screaming at him instead. His flailing fist catches Asshole on the cheek before Asshole wrestles the patient’s arm to the bed frame. Asshole throws his weight on the man as he straps him down again.

With the man unable to move, White Coat takes a large glass and metal syringe from the bowl on his rolling table, moves back to the side of the man’s bed, and gives him a shot. The man continues to rail for a minute and then loses steam, his head dropping back, his eyes becoming vacant.

The White Coat is already leaving as the man’s mouth hangs open.

Asshole circles the bed. He looks out the door, sees White Coat entering the next room, and goes back to the now sedated man.

Asshole says something low and guttural before his fist shoots out, punching the man in the jaw.

A whimper comes from the patient. Asshole chuckles on his way out.

Around the corner, another White Coat appears. This is the man from the bleeding photo. Even in living color, his skin is pasty and his eyes almost black. He says something to Asshole before moving into one of the patients’ rooms.

Asshole grumbles under his breath but continues down the hall, opens a door, and heads into the basement. Muffled shouts erupt as the door closes.