The Blood In the Beginning (5 page)

The hall was empty, so I headed to the ladies room first. It was a large, black and white tiled, twelve-stalled room with huge, gold-veined mirrors, full of scents — mostly cleaning products and perfume, some drugs. Interesting, as these were for staff only. I checked every stall, used the closest one, washed my hands and moved on. The men's had a few guys at the urinal, no blue silk shirts. The hallway was still empty, so I went past the elevator. Jason's office had the usual money counters at work, that was it. I nodded to him and kept going. At the end of the hall, I pushed through the double doors and walked the short distance to the next set marked as a staff entrance.

I cracked the door to have a peek, but the music knocked me back. Lights flashed as if filtered through an eggbeater on high speed. A sea of people undulated on the dance floor to techno-house beats. The balcony tables were full, and as my eye scanned upward I caught the slave cages, rocked by near naked dancers in chains. I locked onto the closest one, my mouth falling open.
Cate?
I knew she had moves, but … the security guards either side of the door turned to me, expressionless. I backed out, letting go of the door. It closed like an exhale, leaving me alone in the relatively silent hall. ‘He's not down here, Billy.' I spoke into my headset on the way to the elevator.

‘Right. Come on up.'

In the elevator, my fingers hovered over the console. There was a dark smudge on the button below UP that hadn't been there before. Without thinking, I swiped it, bringing my finger to my nose.
Blood?
As I did, the elevator kicked in. It took me a second to realise it was heading down.
What the hell?
I hadn't even pressed the damn thing. I hit the UP button several times, but nothing happened. I was definitely going down.

The lights went from white to deep-green as the elevator descended. A moment later, it stopped. The bell dinged and the doors slid open. Noise hit like a tidal wave. The visuals were a blur, my senses bombarded. I stood, stock-still, as the undeniable smell of blood, laced with fear and aggression, rushed up my nose. A gasp forced its way out of my throat and I slammed my hand over the UP button, hard enough to crack the console.

The doors remained open. I flattened myself against the side of the wall, unable to blink, or tear my eyes away. It was a ghoul's carnival, a page right out of Hieronymus Bosch.
Run!
The command coursed through my body, but there was nowhere to go. I jabbed the UP button. Nothing.

The music bounced off the walls. Amid blue lights and flashing strobes, naked bodies danced, gyrating to the rhythmic beats, but that's where any similarity with upstairs ended. People's faces were streaked, dark liquid dripping down their chins, and throats. Around the walls, victims hung from chains. People? Mannequins? I saw some move, struggling against the restraint. The far wall was taken up entirely with the floor to ceiling aquarium. It must run right up to the club level, but … this was different. The unearthly waters teemed with sharks, in a wild frenzy as they fed on chunks of flesh and bone. What were they feeding them? The bodies on the wall? Some of the chained victims looked dead, some not; all dripped blood. It flowed down their limbs into crystal goblets. My heart pounded, a sledgehammer in my chest. As the doors slowly closed enough to block most of my view, I thought I would escape unnoticed. Then a man's head turned, eyes looking straight at mine.

The security guard's name was Raphael. I'd met him earlier, in Jason's office, when they'd been counting out the dough. He'd seemed nice enough … until now. Nothing was very pleasant in this moment. He tapped his earpiece and started toward me. My thumb nearly broke as I rammed it into the UP button.
Run! Run! Run!
I thought my heart would explode. The doors had a fraction to go when his hand thrust between them. A second later he wrenched the elevator open with alarming strength. I reached for my Ruger, but stopped short.
Calm down!
Bile rushed up the back of my throat as he stepped in. I wasn't crazy enough to fire my weapon in an elevator, especially not the first night on the job. The doors closed behind him, trapping us both.

‘Ava Sykes, is it?' he asked, sounding more amused than anything.

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

‘Press the wrong button?' His brows went up. ‘Billy didn't say to check down here.' He laughed and hit the UP button once, while frowning at the cracked console.

‘My mistake,' I choked out, trying to steady my breathing.

He looked straight ahead and took the at-ease stance in front of the door, facing me. ‘How's it up top?'

Was he going to chit-chat before he …
before he what
? ‘All fine.' I tried not to squeak. ‘I'd better get back.'

‘We'll talk to Jason first.'

I started hyperventilating.

Raphael touched his earphone, glancing at me before speaking into the mic. ‘I found Ava in the basement.' He laughed, like tumbling lava rocks. Big guy; deep voice.

I could hear Jason's response easy enough in my own headset. Open channel.

Take over upstairs. I'll deal with it.

‘Right, boss.' He tapped the earpiece again, listened, then said, ‘Be there in a sec.'

Jason wasn't sounding in my headset any more, so either they were on a different frequency, or I'd been shut out. Fast work. The elevator was nearing the club floor, the lights going from green back to white. The glare stung my eyes. Raphael pulled out his shades and put them on. I sucked in my breath and went to plan B. I always had a plan B. ‘So, Raph …' I stepped closer. Damn, the guy was built like a brick shithouse. ‘When do I start work down there?' My hand went to his chest. He was four times wider than me at the shoulder, but not more than a few inches taller. ‘Looks like that's where the fun is, and the money.'

I must have sounded believable because he leaned in, taking the bait. I would have made a crack about men being easy, if I hadn't been scared shitless.

‘I could put in a word for you, but first, tell me your secret, Ava.'

That stumped me. ‘What secret?'

‘The guys have a poll going.'

I had no idea what he was talking about, but by now I was whispering in his ear. ‘Let's go and I'll show you.' My hand slid from his chest up to the back of his neck. I hoped he took the trembling in my fingers for excitement, not abject fear. My plan was to knee him in the face the minute the elevator stopped, and then run like hell.

‘I wish.' He pulled my arms down, pinning them to my sides. The bell dinged and doors opened. Advantage lost. He clamped my elbow and guided me to Jason's office. ‘Maybe later,' he whispered.

Great. If I survived Jason, I'd have Raphael to deal with. ‘Never mind. Moment's passed.'

‘We'll see.' He knocked on the door and Jason opened it.

‘Sykes.' He exhaled like this was the last thing he wanted to deal with. ‘You trying to make things difficult?'

I stumbled into the room, nudged from behind by Raph. I had sweaty palms, shaky hands. Pretty sure my nostrils were flared, still catching those floating molecules of blood.

‘Sit.'

I sat on the edge of the chair, trying not to make it obvious I was scanning for escape routes. As far as I could see, the only way out was the door behind me.

Jason took off his baseball cap and sat on the other side of the desk. He was in his early forties, medium height, buzz cut, and built like a weightlifter. A big one. He steepled his fingers. ‘What'd ya see, Sykes?'

Death, murder, torture, mayhem. A lot of blood dripping down limbs.
‘Nothing. The doors opened, and I knew I'd made a wrong turn.'
Horror film wrong.
‘I was focussed on the UP button. Sorry, but I might have cracked the casing.'

‘Don't care about that. Do care about the “torture, murder, mayhem” part.'

I swallowed hard as bile rose. ‘Pardon?' I knew I hadn't said that aloud.

He ignored me and picked up the phone. ‘Mr Bane. Our new girl had a little peek at VIP.'

I didn't miss the apologetic tone Jason took. Yeah, the big boss wasn't going to be happy, dealing with this. Jason hung up and turned back to me. ‘He's coming. Won't be a moment.'

CHAPTER FOUR

This would be a record hire and fire. I'd been working here less than five hours.
But would they just fire me, and let me go … or?

Jason looked smug. Whatever was going to happen next, he seemed pleased about it.
Shit!
It had been too good to be true. I should've done more research before signing on to guard a freaking orgy-soaked bloodbath in the basement.
What. The. Fucking. Fuck?
I didn't give a damn about the sex part. A person could get off however they pleased, provided it was consensual, safety words in place. But shackling bodies to the rafters and bleeding them like some prized buck — nuh-uh. Oh, hell no. I wasn't up for that, whether it was some perved-out foreplay or not. I was sweating buckets by the time Daniel arrived.

He swept into the room, total grace and poise. ‘Thanks, Jason.' He waved him away.

If Jason was miffed about the dismissal, he didn't let it show. Cap back on his head, he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

The room went dead silent. Daniel took his place in the chair behind the desk. Somehow, he managed to look like he was sitting on a throne. ‘Tell me what happened.' He showed almost no sign of concern. His blasé approach was terrifying, because I knew he would be very concerned. Wouldn't he?

My head was swimming.
And I thought the most dangerous thing about the job would be cinema overflow …

Daniel chuckled. ‘Did you see the floorshow?'

Huh?

‘VIP, what we call “the basement”. It's host to our most elaborate entertainment.'

‘You call that entertainment?'

‘Ava, my dear, we mustn't judge.'

To the contrary, Virgo here. We must.
‘People are being slaughtered.'

He looked at me as if trying to work something out. Finally, he said, ‘It's not real.'

No way.
‘I smelled it.'

‘Pheromones.'

‘What about them?'

‘They're used to excite clients on an unconscious level. To you, they would smell like blood.'

I didn't remember telling him about my supreme sense of smell, but I didn't start there. ‘What do you mean, clients?'

‘Our VIP clientele are exclusive, most paying ten thousand an hour for the illusions that … match their desires — bondage, S&M, BDSM.'

‘Stop.'
There's a safety word for you.
‘You're telling me people pay that kind of dough to be chained to a wall and …' My throat had gone dry.

Daniel Bane rose and went to the water cooler. He filled a cup and brought it to me. ‘If things work out, you could find yourself handling VIP security. It would be quite a step up.'

Try a step down.
I chugged the water and licked my lips. Was he bribing me? I tasted salt.

‘Ava, I assure you, what goes on in VIP, it's perfectly safe. No one's held against their will. We have a medical team in the back, if something goes too far.' He beamed me a smile, proud of himself. ‘We haven't lost anyone yet.' He took off his shades. Intense hazel-blue eyes pinned me to my seat. ‘I'm sorry you had a shock, but we do cater for an extreme demographic.'

I wondered where he was on that map.

Daniel kept up the gaze, waiting for me to respond. I was too numb. Finally, he stood. ‘Myself, I am more, shall we say, traditional. I take it you are, too?'

Were we talking about sexual preferences?
No way.
The sweat went clammy on my skin.

‘You're upset, Ava.' He spoke as if I were a child. ‘I want you to take the rest of the night off. You can collect your pay.'

‘I'm fired?' Relief and anxiety competed for space in my brain.

‘Of course not. You're just starting out with us.' He came around the side of the desk and put his arm over my shoulders. I stiffened and he calmly let go. ‘You've seen these, haven't you?' He pulled a flyer from a folder on the desk and handed it to me. It was slick, eye-catching and would have cost a mint to produce. ‘It's all part of the experience.'

Boy was it ever. There in glossy black and white, with a splash of green that no doubt was bright blood red to most people's eyes, were the victims chained to the wall and the dominants engaged in various acts of …
whoa, they really do that shit?
I handed the flyer back, unable to meet his gaze.

‘Keep it.' Daniel brushed lint off his sleeve. ‘I'll send Jason in to organise your pay. Now, if you'll excuse me.'

Before I replied, the shades were back on and he was out the door.

* * *

I didn't sit by myself for long. Jason appeared a minute later, looking a little less smug. Following him were two other security men, each carrying large moneybags. Yeah, it was the post-digital age. Many clubs were cash only now, with the new IDT protection in place. It was a complex law, but it kept identity theft down to a rumble. I didn't pretend to understand all the ins and outs, but the upshot was that if an establishment took funds via an appropriated ID, they were as liable as the crooks. The big backfire was that most clubs only dealt in cash now, unless the customer submitted to an elaborate background check and DNA scan. I wondered how well they screened the clientele in VIP. My brain stuck on the haunting images. I needed to clear my head.

‘We're about to start the sort.' Jason assumed I knew what that meant, and I did. Lucky's did one every night, though Poseidon had a much bigger table for the process. My eyes bugged out as they dumped piles of cash and started counting. They stacked the bills faster than any bank teller I'd ever seen. These guys knew their job. While I stood there, still numbed from my little wrong turn, Jason counted out c-notes, five one hundred dollar bills. He tapped the money on the table, and handed it over, crisp and clean, though
clean
had a multitude of meanings. I wasn't sure which one applied.