Page 29 of Tainted Souls
General Lee is waiting for me in the hallway, his expression grave. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll keep you updated.”
I look back through the observation window at Max, the man I’ve built my life around, now slowly being destroyed from within. Then I glance down the corridor at the other rooms, all filled with innocent people suffering the same fate. Our plan better work.
I salute the general on my way out.
The streets of Penn City have transformed overnight.
Keepers patrol in pairs, their weapons visible rather than concealed. Humans hurry along with their heads down, donation bands gleaming under the streetlights. The usual bustle of nightlife has been replaced by a tense silence, broken only by the occasional wail of sirens in the distance.
I stick to the shadows, my boots silent on the pavement as I pass four separate checkpoint stations where citizens’ IDs are scanned with heightened scrutiny. My mind spins with contingencies, unwilling to rely on the authorities alone.
There’s information inside this city—about the female Whiteshade, about Revenant, about why they’re both so obsessed with me.
All I have to do is find the right place to look.
Viktor’s den lies beneath a butcher shop on the edge of the district, accessible only through a trapdoor hidden behind a freezer. Surrounding buildings crowd together like rotting teeth, garbage bags littering the cracks between them.
The shop is closed at this hour, but blood brokers never sleep.
I circle quietly around to the back alley, finding the service entrance unlocked as expected. The miasma hits me first—raw meat, industrial chemicals, and the unmistakable tang of blood. Pigeons scatter at the clang of a loose shutter, wings thrumming against the brick walls. A small dome camera perches above, its lens glinting like an owl watching for prey from a mile away. I give it a small wave and a wink.
Inside, animal carcasses hang from hooks along the wall. My boots squeak faintly on the cold tiled floor as I navigate past stacked crates of meat and barrels of preservatives. In the far corner of the freezer, I find the hidden panel, its edges worn from repeated use. With a soft shove, it slides away to reveal a steep staircase plunging into darkness. Music thumps from below, a heavy bassline that vibrates through the concrete steps.
I descend slowly with my dagger in hand, senses alert for any surprises. At the bottom, a muscular man guards a reinforced door with crossed arms. “Closed,” he grunts when I step into the light, my reputation preceding me. “Viktor doesn’t want you here.”
“Too late. I already am.” I regrip my dagger to draw attention to it. “We can do this the easy or the hard way, but I’m getting in.”
The bouncer’s nostrils flare as he takes a menacing step forward. His hand hovers near what I assume is a concealed weapon, assessing me and how far I might be willing to go. I stand my ground, not flinching. Truth is, with everything that has already gone down tonight, causing a scene is the last thing they would want.
Finally, he steps aside, punching a code into the keypad beside the door. It swings open with a hydraulic shrill, revealing the den beyond. The underground space is larger than it appears from outside, with low ceilings and exposed pipes running along industrial walls.
The lighting is a deep vermillion, casting everything in a fiery hue that makes it difficult to distinguish vampire from human. In the center, a circular bar serves drinks that I know contain more than just alcohol. Around the edges of the room, secluded booths host private conversations and whispered transactions.
Viktor sits at the far end, behind a desk elevated on a platform that allows him to survey his domain. He is a slender man with auburn hair and tiny moles on his face which resemble freckles from a distance. His green eyes narrow when they land on me, the scar running from his temple to his jaw twitching as his face contorts into a scowl.
I cut across the room, shouldering past a pair of customers who hiss at my intrusion.
“If you’ve come to threaten my business again,” Viktor begins, his accent a telltale sign that he’s not originally from Aevrane.
Before he can finish, I state, “I’m a prime suspect in everything that went down tonight.”
It’s only half a lie.
Viktor’s eyes flick to the bouncer who seems to have followed me in, then back to me. “Not my problem.” His hands busily flip through a stack of vouchers as he resumes tallying the credits.
He waves me off in a way that tells me he has business to attend to and wishes to be undisturbed by my presence.
Not my problem.
“Allow me to clarify why it is.” One of my hands finds my waist, while the other slams the dagger into his desk. “I’m not going to take accountability for something I didn’t do. So, you’re going to give me a list of all illegal citizens you’ve helped smuggle in the past few months.”
Viktor’s expression darkens as he slowly rises from his chair, towering over me despite his slender frame. His fingers tap rhythmically against the wooden desk, deliberately avoiding the embedded dagger.
“You have some nerve coming in here, damaging my property, and making demands like that.” His voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “I’m not giving a rascal like you anything.”
“Are you sure about that? If you don’t, your business is done for.” Both my hands find his desk as I lean forward, feigning surprise. “You don’t think I’ve come here alone, do you? You really think they’d let me out of their sight? After what happened tonight? There’s a team waiting for me outside, Viktor. There are teams all over the district, and they expect me to deliver on what I told them. That I can get that list in return for not being asked further questions. If anything, you should be thanking me.”
A flicker of unease crosses his face. Good.
