Page 58 of Skin Trade

“He thinks it is. What Alex says--”

“We had a deal. I kept up my end of it, if he shows up and she learns about this.”

Aamon, definitely Aamon, but there was something else too.

“Sir, with all due respect. This could solve a huge problem of yours and put you in good standing with Alexander.”

Someone let out a long sigh and she was sure it was Seth. Of all the vampires she’d known and seen, he was the one who seemed to put over normal human behaviours. Like he had forgotten he wasn’t meant to breathe.

Payton stepped closer, her foot on the edge of the carpet where a gap had purposely been left, revealing the dark wooden floor underneath. She didn’t want to step on that. Memories of being a child and trying to sneak down the stairs came to her. That missing piece on the third step that always gave her away, or the way the banister creaked if she were to lean against it too much. She strained, almost like she could listen harder, know exactly what or whom they were speaking of, if she could only be closer to them.

“If it is not seen to, Alexander will come here himself. I am sure I need not remind you of what he said last time there was an issue.”

“There is no issue,” Seth said. “Things are not ready, not in place. I will speak with Alex myself.”

“No.”

When Payton moved, the edge of her foot kicked against the tiniest of stones. Something that would have come in attached to the tread on someone else’s shoe, but it skittered across the wooden part of the floor, singing its rat-a-tat-tat as it went. Her heart froze, stopping solidly in her chest for a whole moment. She set her mouth into a firm line and held her breath, as if that could stop the sound.

“You need to know--” Aamon stopped. Payton raised her gaze to where she could see the faint outline of Seth. Whatever Aamon was about to say, caught and he stopped. Payton backed away. Any moment that door was going to open all the way and she would be exposed to them all. Caught again by Aamon, doing something she was not meant to be.

She stepped back, her hand up as if she might be able to ward off anyone who came to her. She almost yelped as she turned, sure as hell one of them would be standing behind her, able to sneak up in that way all vampires could do. But there was no one there. No one was talking either.

Shit.

She turned and bolted, not caring at the sound her shoes made as they slapped against the floor, not caring for the echo in the otherwise empty corridor. She rounded the corner to get back to the lift, but almost skidded to a halt when she saw the lift had already been called and was currently residing on floor ten.

She ran into it, slamming her hand against it. A quick glance behind her. There was no one, but she heard shoes, footsteps. Someone was coming. She ducked to the side, to the door that led to the stairs and threw herself through it and then dodged behind the glass pane.

Her heart hammered so wildly in her chest that she couldn’t catch her breath. She blinked, long and hard, murmuring to herself for them to go away. Even if it was Seth. She didn’t want to face him now. Not when she had been clearly snooping and listening to what they’d been discussing. Probably something top secret, too, and she’d be wanted dead for what she had heard, or not heard, because whatever it was didn’t make any bit of sense to her, but they would never see it that way.

She dared herself to peer through the small window of the door. No one was there. She didn’t risk anything though by going back through or even standing so she could be seen. No. Instead, she kept herself low and crept to the stairs. It was only when she was on the turning off the last steps, did she allow herself to stand.

The doors were closed. She stopped beside them so she could listen for anyone coming down behind her or watch for their shadows. There was no one. Thank God.

It was only when she stepped out into the foyer and the noise of that, did she let her shoulders relax. This place was such a contrast with sounds. The way everything could be contained behind a door, and the moment anyone went through them a slice of sound could escape. The foyer was loud, buzzing with people coming and going. Mostly coming. Two security men stood beside the doors and outside, lines of people queued in both directions to get into the place.

“Payton,” Sky called from the reception. She grinned at her, that full grin, showing her fangs and her white teeth. She really did belong on some eighties pop video. She waved at Payton, waved her over.

“Hey,” Payton said, not liking the way she sounded breathless. “What’s going on here?”

“Friday night,” Sky said. She nodded to the doors that led the way to the club. “Big nights on Fridays. Everyone coming here for a taste of the forbidden.”

Couples came in, people on their own, groups. Such a diverse range of people waking in. One man held the hand of a woman who seemed to glow as she walked, as if the light clung to her and refused to let go.

“You okay? Did you drink all of the--”

“Most of it.” More guards stood next to the lines of people. They stood about two feet apart, if that, with guns in their hands, ready to fire, and spares hooked to their hips. They wore big thick jackets, protection from something that would attack them.

“The thirsty,” Sky said. “The queue makes a nice menu for them. Why hunt when there is a lovely platter outside the main clubs for them to take bites from? The guards …” She pointed to one of the men. “Sir keeps his clientele safe. It is why he gets so busy here. He looks after his people.”

Payton nodded. “I was reading about them, the thirsty I mean. It said they’re getting braver. Or something like that. They even said one came into a woman’s home.”

“Yes. We have had them in here too.”

“Inside?”

“They get into the cellar. It is easy for them. It is dark and they can hide, and then when someone goes down to change a barrel or something, they pounce.” Sky demonstrated by turning her hands into claws and thrusting them at Payton. “No one has got hurt yet. They’re like rats. Big giant rats. They get so hungry; they do not care what they do. Starving makes them crazy. I just pray they never get in when the sun has risen, and we are all sleeping.”

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