This section also had dead animals on hooks, but they were in various states of getting skinned and, as it turned out, bled.
Elliot stopped us in front of a lamb that hung upside down above a bucket, blood dripping from its slit throat and into the pool of red liquid in the container.
“I’m sure you’re aware that, when we get a call about someone complaining about the freshness of our blood supply, we get a bit antsy these days,” Elliot said as he looked emotionlessly at the hapless animal in front of us. “Let me demonstrate what we are doing, and explain why.”
He pointed at the dead lamb. “Previously, due to religious sensitivities and improved texture of the meat, we would take a bolt gun to the forehead of each animal before we slid their throat and let them bleed to death. The bolt gun technically left them brain dead, but their hearts still beat. These days, we kill the animal dead before we drain their blood, and the reason is quite simple: vampires can sustain themselves on animal blood—but only fresh animal blood taken while the heart still beats. When we found this out, we changed our procedure, so we would no longer be feeding the filthy monsters.”
I stared at the dead lamb, trying to gather my thoughts enough to get through this without raising his suspicion of me further than it was becoming obvious it already was. “But… won’t that just… make them attack humans more? And what about the religious people? And my sausage? It seems to me you’re punishing your human customers and potentially making the streets even more unsafe in one swoop.”
Elliot snorted. “The vampires who break into butcher shops to steal their blood supply are weak. Desperate. They won’t survive long with their supply cut off. Any vampire who would have a chance at going undetected while preying on humans would never stoop so low as to feed on animal blood—least of all pre-bottled. No, our new policy ensures the monsters don’t grow stronger and increase their numbers—and I’m afraid both religion and grandma’s recipe has to take a secondary seat to the protection of human life. I’m sure you agree?”
“Uh… huh,” I mumbled, as images of Warin’s reaction to my dinner offering flashed before my mind’s eye. By supplying butchers with dead blood, they weren’t just starving vampires unwilling or unable to feed on humans… they were actively killing them.
“Now, seeing as this is in the middle of the day, I am comforted in the fact that you are no vampire,” Elliot said. When I lifted my gaze to his, he gave me that same thin smile as before. “But I know there are certain… sympathizers out there. Servants to the undead. You seem like a smart girl, Olivia. Can I count on your support for Bolton & Son’s new policy? You do wish to make the streets safer, don’t you?”
9
A large raven sat on the roof of my car when I stumbled out the office door, more than keen on putting as much distance between myself and the House of Horrors and its creepy PR agent some minutes later.
“I would get the hell out of here, if I were you,” I muttered at the bird, and shuddered at the memory of the dead lamb and all the other carcasses I’d gotten way too close a look of today.
It cawed at me and flapped its wings, lazily flying up to sit on the side of the gate leading in.
“Smart bird,” I said as I quickly climbed into my Fiesta and shoved the key into the ignition.
I drove out the gate, only breathing in a deep sigh of relief once I could no longer see the industrial estate in my rearview mirror. I could, however, see the raven following me, and managed a small smile. Seemed it’d taken my warning to heart.
* * *
I spent the rest of the afternoon in a jittery mess, and when my phone went off just after five, displaying an unknown number, I hesitated to answer.
You think you’re being phone stalked by slaughterhouse employees now, Liv? I snarked at myself before I pushed the answer button. Worst-case scenario, it’d be a determined telemarketer. And best-case scenario…
“Liv?” The voice on the other end was deep and smooth and automatically made my lips curl up into a smile. “It’s Warin. I’m calling to hear if you have time to see me this evening?”
“Of course,” I answered, hastily casting a glance around my once-again messy living room.
“Good. I shall be there in fifteen minutes.” He didn’t wait for my confirmation before he hung up.
Well, shit. I glanced down at my attire—I’d changed into my most comfortable pajamas and a pair of fluffy pink socks once I got in this afternoon—and mentally calculated what needed a last-ditch effort the most, me or the living room.
* * *
I ended up deciding on the room, so when the buzzer by my door sounded fifteen minutes later, I’d just finished the pile of dishes by the sink. I hurried over to buzz Warin in.
I unlocked my front door just as there was a light knock. Vamp speed was so handy for getting around quickly.
“Hey, you,” I said when I opened the door.
“Liv,” he said, nodding in greeting.
I stepped aside, and he walked in without needing an invitation this time. I couldn’t help but smile when his eyes seemed immediately drawn by my painting of the sunset again.
Something about his presence in my small home seemed to ease all the tension that’d accumulated in my shoulders after the day’s excursion, his aura of calm projecting out in almost tangible waves.
“Oh! Wait here a sec, while I still remember it this time!” I hurried into my bedroom and grabbed the small pile of neatly folded clothes I’d borrowed from him in August.
“I’ve got the clothes you lent me this summer,” I said when I re-entered the living room.
“Oh. Thank you.” Warin turned from his study of the sunset, mild surprise clear on his face, and I realized he’d forgotten about the shirt and boxers completely. I supposed someone who lived in a mansion the size of Warin’s home wouldn’t care much about a couple of items of clothing, even if they were expensive pieces. I was pretty sure the cost of the shirt alone would have paid a month’s rent for me.
He accepted the items from me with a polite smile.
And then he bent his head to sniff them.
I froze, insulted. “I have washed them.”
He raised his head to shoot me a quizzical look, potentially at my frosty tone. “They smell of you.”
“They’re clean. But I can have them dry-cleaned for you, if you prefer.” I folded my arms across my chest, lips pinched in what was undoubtedly a decent imitation of my grandmother.
Warin blinked a single time as he took in my displeased expression, and then comprehension seemed to dawn across his beautiful features.
“Oh, I am sorry, Liv. It was not… That they smell of you is not a negative observation. I am truly sorry… I forgot humans don’t…”
“Sniff things?” My tone was still a tad curt, but it seemed he’d just had a “vampire moment.” I was pretty sure I’d done a lot of things that would be considered a faux pas in his eyes too. “Is it kind of like when dogs say hello to each other?”