He raised a pale eyebrow, his blue eyes holding more than a little hint of amusement. "The boss said you'd be back for those. He left a message that you were to be directed into the security office and given the good coffee."
I snorted softly. "As if that's going to let him off the hook for giving me the run-around."
And given the apparent history between Jack and Dante, the only legitimate reason I think of for him doing something like that was to piss off Jack.
Boris's gum-chewing grin grew. "He also said that if you were still here after midnight, he would give you a more personal apology."
I glanced at my watch. I had fifty-eight minutes to get out of here, then. "I take it the tapes set up and ready to go?"
He nodded. "Security is the red door at the other end of the bar. I'll buzz them to let them know you're coming. Coffee will be along in five minutes."
"Thanks." I headed down towards the red door. The darkness seemed to get deeper the further into it I moved.
Many of the humans who were in the room wandered around like vapid ghosts, their expressions either edged with anxiety or pleasure, depending on where they were within their fix cycle. The cloying scent of blood and ecstasy mingled with undertones of hunger that were coming from the many vampires in the room, and despite my distaste for everything that was going on here, my pulse surged again. Desire—be it for blood or sex—was a powerful emotion, and no wolf was immune to its effects. Several vampires who leaned up against the bar about half way down the room stood up abruptly, their gazes swinging in my direction and teeth protruding in excitement. The scent of fresh, available blood did that to a vamp.
I got my badge out and held it up. It might be dark, but they'd see it well enough. "Sorry, boys, here on official business."
Their surge of excitement was snuffed out almost instantly. The lead vampire—a thin, brown haired man with a boyish face and ancient hazel eyes—looked me up and down, his lip curling in distaste.
"So you're one of those. Shame."
"If you mean that I'm a guardian, then yes. And I totally agree with it being a shame, but hey, sometimes you've got to go with the flow."
His dour expression suggested he didn't see any humor in my reply. Apparently, neither did the other three, who all edged closer to their leader and flexed various muscles. I raised my eyebrows, wondering if they were stupid enough to seriously consider attacking a guardian.
"Lay off, boys," the bartender said, his voice holding the whip of command. Obviously, the laid-back attitude was a front.
The brown haired man snarled, then turned around and stalked off into the shadows. His friends followed. Three seconds later they all had women on their arms.
I shook my head and glanced at the bartender. "All this freely available blood must be making them a little crazy."
He grinned. "They meant no harm. Besides, they know the boss won't abide any trouble inside the building."
And they feared Starke more than they feared a guardian. Or maybe they simply feared that Starke would cut them off from their easy feed.
I continued on to the red door and rapped my knuckles against it loudly—although the sound was almost lost in the thump of music coming from the speakers three feet away.
But the door opened, revealing a tall black vamp with startling green eyes. "You the guardian?"
"I am." I got out my badge and flashed it again.
He stepped aside and waved me in. "The tapes have been set up to run on the end computer. The boss said you'd want to view from one o'clock onwards."
One o'clock being the time Grant Haven had finished work and was walking towards Dante's, only to be met by someone wielding a saw. Why he'd simply let them hack off his head was a question I'd forgotten to ask Jack, which meant I'd actually have to read the report later.
But Mandy Jones had reported his death at one-twenty, so at least there weren't going to be mountains of tape to view.
"That's perfect." I walked over to the desk and sat down.
The vamp shut the door then ambled over. "Press this button to play, this one for slo-mo, and that one for pause. If you want to print any of the frames, just hit this one."
"Thanks."
He nodded and went back to his screens. I pressed the play and leaned back in the chair, watching as the computer worked its way through the various tapes. The bartender came in with my coffee about half way through, the scent of cinnamon and hazelnut filling the small room.
"I'll have one of those," the big vamp said, not taking his eyes off the screens.
"Then you can get it yourself at shift change," the bartender said, slamming the door as he exited.
"He's such a charmer," the black guy muttered. "You do realize he only got you one because he wants to get into your pants?"
"Actually, it's your boss that wants to do that." I took a sip of the hot liquid, and sighed in pleasure. "How long have you worked here?"
He shrugged. "A year and a half."
The timer was winding up to one-twenty, so I concentrated on the screen for several minutes, but could see neither Mandy nor the stranger who'd apparently paid her to call the murder in. As the camera view switched, I said, "And do you enjoy it?"
"Yeah. The conditions here are pretty good."
I glanced at him. "They are? The place looks pretty run down to me, and I imagine staff amenities are much the same."
He flashed me a grin, revealing rows of shiny white teeth but no fangs. He wasn't getting turned on by what he was watching on the screen, but then, I suppose if he was, he'd be of no use in this job.
"Most club venues have pretty crappy amenities for staff, no matter how up-market they claim to be."
"So why not work at one with a better rep?"
"Because this one pays above-the-average wages."
"Why? No offense, but it doesn't exactly look like a hard job, and this place hasn't had much in the way of trouble." At least, not the sort that attracted police or Directorate intervention. Not until the recent beheading on its front doorstep, anyway.
"Maybe there's been no trouble because the boss pays us well to ensure there isn't."
Good point. I sipped my coffee for several minutes, watching the ebb and flow of blood seduction on the screen. The timer was again nearing one-twenty. I leaned forward, watching the screen closely.
Mandy suddenly appeared in camera view. A tall, dark-haired vampire escorted her into the corner shadows, lifted her arm, and bared his teeth. A look of pure ecstasy crossed her face as his teeth pierced her flesh and he began to drink.
"What's Dante like as a boss?"
He shrugged. "Keeps to himself, mostly. We only see him if there's trouble."
"What about the ladies? I imagine he's got a few of them traipsing to and from his bedroom."
He laughed. It was a surprisingly high sound—like his voice was on the edge of breaking. It made me wonder just how old he'd been when he'd turned. His gangly frame did remind me somewhat of a teenager, but not all vamps were muscle bound. Quite the opposite, in fact.
"With his looks, and that mojo he has happening? Hell, yeah. There's practically a parade of woman traipsing upstairs to be with him."
"So he picks his bedmates from the women in the club?" Dante didn't actually seem the type to go for blood whores. But then, why would he run a club like this if he wasn't?
"No." He hesitated. "But some of them seem the type. They have that look, if you know what I mean."
I did. But if Starke wasn't getting his bed partners from this club, did that necessarily mean that he was getting them from others? And if that was the case, why would he bring them back here?