On either side of the room were three private boxes. Each had once held a collection of seats, but according to local news coverage those had since been removed and taken to storage or alternate theaters. I stood under the archway that led into the room and took in the entirety of the scene, smelling the air for goons who I knew waited within.
I removed my scarf, hat and gloves and tucked them beneath a nearby seat so they wouldn’t reveal my arrival too soon. I kept the jacket on, unwilling to leave my extra ammunition anywhere out of arm’s reach. Removing one of the guns from my waistband, I held it as my only comfort.
I smelled the group of guards before I heard them. Pressing my back against the wall, I ducked behind one of the heavy, red velvet curtains and waited without breathing. There was laughter and a chorus of booming male voices that didn’t falter as they passed me. I had gone unnoticed.
There were three of them and their scents were muddled together, but the whole group reeked of wolf. I must have escaped detection because they were used to smelling their own kind. I was willing to take any small kindnesses the universe was offering me right then.
They moved upward to one of the boxes and settled there. I waited until I heard the scraping of metal chairs being rearranged, followed by the dull creak of settling bodies, before I pushed back the curtain to get a look at where they were. Their voices were coming from a box closest to the movie screen.
These were the daytime guards of whichever vampires were hiding beneath the theater. Given what I’d learned from Brigit, and how it fit with my own assessment, I also believed they were working for Marcus. I didn’t recognize any of their voices from the brawl at the Chameleon, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been there.
I surveyed the main floor of the theater to make sure I hadn’t missed any guards. Since I was here to take Peyton alive, I didn’t want there to be unnecessary casualties. There were plenty of ways to render a man useless aside from killing him, and I was proficient in most of them. I may have been a killer, but none of the guards had done anything to warrant being murdered.
If I could find Peyton and get in touch with one of the daytime servants of the council, this whole ordeal could be finished without any bloodshed.
Trying to take on three werewolves at the same time wasn’t an ideal option if I wanted to finish out the day without a body count. I needed to split them up and hope one of them would tell me where to find Peyton. It might take a little
persuasion, but broken fingers healed. So did bullet wounds.
I slipped away from the curtain and back into the lobby. The lethargy of day was wearing off as a wave of adrenaline overcame me. I spotted the sign for Second Balcony and Left Boxes and stole towards it in the shadows of the unlit room.
I’d never been more aware of my wolf than when I stalked down the hallway towards the sound of their voices. I ducked into the box one over from theirs and stayed low to the ground. Snippets of their conversation were now audible, and I sat and listened, waiting for a good moment to make my move.
“Christ, Jackson, chill out. You’re making me all antsy. ”
“Sorry. ” The voice sounded young and strained with worry. “It’s just, I mean, this is creepy, isn’t it?”
“Creepy?” The man who responded gave the word a mocking tone. “What’s so fucking creepy?”
“Knowing there are vampires, like, below us?”
“Get a grip, kid. Boogeyman ain’t gonna get you. ”
One of them let out a huff of air, and the trio fell into silence. Muffled chewing noises and the squeak of Styrofoam were the only sounds in the theater.
Staying low to the ground, I used my heel to drag a heavy metal bar towards me. It looked to be the post that once held a bank of seats in place, judging by the discolored seat-shaped rectangle on the floor around it. The bar rolled closer with the slightest metallic ringing, but still I held my breath and froze.
Their munching continued.
I picked up the bar, and when I heard one of them clear his throat, I shuttled the post over the edge of the box. The fall seemed to last an eternity before the clatter of metal meeting a concrete floor reverberated through the room, bouncing off the ceiling and back into the wings.
“What the…?” Chair legs squealed on the floor of the guards’ booth. “Jackson, stay here and keep an eye out. Come on, Al. ”
Two of the guards stomped down the stairs back to the lobby. Once I could hear them below, I slipped out of the box and into the one next door. Before the young werewolf could call out, I clamped my hand over his mouth and dragged him to the floor.
“Shhh,” I warned. My gun was drawn and glinting in the dim overhead light of the box. “Don’t make me use this. ”
His bright green eyes were wide, and his pulse quickened. He managed to nod against the force of my hand. Jackson was so young it made me sick to have to scare him like this. Sure, he was guarding Alexandre Peyton and probably worked for Marcus Sullivan, but he didn’t look more than twenty years old. I doubted he understood the implications of keeping the company he did.
“Where is Peyton?”
His brows knit together, confusion clouding his features.
“The vampire,” I clarified. “Where is the vampire?”
At that his eyes widened with understanding. He nodded again and mumbled something into my hand.
“If I let you talk, do you promise not to call them?” I held the gun to his temple. “You don’t want to call them. ”