House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City) (51 page)

“A sorceress who chose to join Flame and Shadow and turns her enemies into animals.” Bryce motioned to the smaller tanks and terrariums built into the shelves around them, then rubbed at the persistent ache in her thigh beneath her pink dress. When she’d finally worked up the nerve to emerge from her bedroom this morning after the kitchen fiasco, Hunt had looked at her for a long, long moment. But he’d said nothing.

“You should see a medwitch about that leg,” he said now. Hunt didn’t look up from where he was leafing through some report Justinian had sent over that morning for a second opinion. She’d asked what it was, but he’d told her it was classified, and that was that.

“My leg is fine.” She didn’t bother to turn from where she once again began typing in the details for the Korsaki contract Jesiba was so eager to have finalized. Mindless busywork, but work that had to be done at some point.

Especially since they were again at a dead end. No word had arrived from Viktoria about the Mimir test results. Why Danika had stolen the Horn, who wanted it so badly that they’d kill her for it … Bryce still had no idea. But if Ruhn was right about a method to heal the Horn … It all had to tie together somehow.

And she knew that while they’d killed the one kristallos demon, there were other kristallos waiting in Hel that could still be summoned to hunt the Horn. And if its kind had failed so far, when the breed had literally been created by the Princes of Hel to track the Horn … How could she even hope to find it?

Then there was the matter of those gruesome, pulping killings … which hadn’t been done by a kristallos. Hunt had already put in a request to have the footage checked again, but nothing had come through.

Hunt’s phone buzzed, and he fished it from his pocket, glimpsed at the screen, then put it away. From across the desk, she could just barely make out the text box of a message on the screen.

“Not going to write back?”

His mouth twisted to the side. “Just one of my colleagues, busting my balls.” His eyes flickered when he looked at her, though. And when she smiled at him, shrugging, his throat bobbed—just slightly.

Hunt said a bit roughly, “I gotta head out for a while. Naomi will come to stand guard. I’ll pick you up when you’re ready to leave.”

Before she could ask about it, he was gone.

“I know it’s been a while,” Bryce said, her phone wedged between her shoulder and ear.

Hunt had been waiting outside the gallery while she locked up, smiling at Syrinx scratching at the door. The chimera yowled in protest when he realized Bryce wasn’t bringing him along yet, and Hunt stooped to scratch his fuzzy golden head before Bryce shut the door, locking him in.

“I’ll have to look at my calendar,” Bryce was saying, nodding her hello to Hunt.

She looked beautiful today, in a rose-pink dress, pearls at her ears, and hair swept back on either side with matching pearl combs.

Fuck,
beautiful
wasn’t even the right word for it.

She’d emerged from her bedroom and he’d been struck stupid.

She hadn’t seemed to notice that
he’d
noticed, though he supposed she knew that she looked gorgeous every day. Yet there was a light to her today, a color that hadn’t been there before, a glow in her amber eyes and flush to her skin.

But that pink dress … It had distracted him all day.

So had their encounter in the kitchen this morning. He’d done his best to ignore it—to forget about how close he’d come to begging her to touch him, to let him touch her. It hadn’t stopped him from being in a state of semi-arousal all day.

He had to get his shit together. Considering that their investigation had slowed this past week, he couldn’t afford distractions. Couldn’t afford to ogle her every time she wasn’t looking. This afternoon, she’d been rising up onto her toes, arm straining to grab some book on a high shelf in the library, and it was like that color pink was the fucking Horn, and he was a kristallos demon.

He’d been out of his chair in an instant, at her side a heartbeat after that, and had pulled the book off the shelf for her.

She’d stood there, though, when he’d held the book out. Hadn’t backed up a step as she looked between the outstretched book and his face. His blood had begun pounding in his ears, his skin becoming too tight. Just like it had this morning when he’d seen her
breasts peak, and had scented how filthy her own thoughts had turned.

But she’d just taken the book and walked away. Unfazed and unaware of his sheer stupidity.

It hadn’t improved as the hours had passed. And when she’d smiled at him earlier … He’d been half-relieved to be called away from the gallery a minute later. It was while he was heading back, breathing in the brisk air off the Istros, that Viktoria sent him a message:
I found something
.
Meet me at Munin and Hugin in 15.

He debated telling the wraith to wait. To delay the inevitable bad news coming their way, to go just a few more days with that beautiful smile on Bryce’s face and that desire starting to smolder in her eyes, but … Micah’s warnings rang in his ears. The Summit was still two weeks away, but Hunt knew Sandriel’s presence had stretched Micah’s patience thinner than usual. That if he delayed much longer, he’d find his bargain null and void.

So whatever intel Vik had, however bad … he’d find a way to deal with it. He called
Bryce Kicks Ass
and told her to get
her
ass outside to meet him.

“I don’t know, Mom,” Bryce was saying into her phone, falling into step with Hunt as they started down the street. The setting sun bathed the city in gold and orange, gilding even the puddles of filth. “Of course I miss you, but maybe next month?”

They passed an alley a few blocks away, neon signs pointing to the small tea bars and ancient food stalls cramming its length. Several tattoo shops lay interspersed, some of the artists or patrons smoking outside before the evening rush of drunken idiots.

“What—
this
weekend? Well, I have a guest—” She clicked her tongue. “No, it’s a long story. He’s like … a roommate? His name? Uh, Athie.
No
, Mom.” She sighed. “This weekend
really
doesn’t work. No, I’m not blowing you guys off again.” She gritted her teeth. “What about a video chat, then? Mmhmm, yeah, of course I’ll make the time.” Bryce winced again. “Okay, Mom. Bye.”

Bryce turned to him, grimacing.

“Your mom seems … insistent,” Hunt said carefully.

“I’m video chatting with my parents at seven.” She sighed at the sky. “They want to meet you.”

Viktoria was at the bar when they arrived, a glass of whiskey in front of her. She offered them both a grave smile, then slid a file over as they seated themselves to her left.

“What did you find?” Bryce asked, opening the cream-colored folder.

“Read it,” Viktoria said, then glanced toward the cameras in the bar. Recording everything.

Bryce nodded, taking the warning, and Hunt leaned closer as her head dipped to read, unable to stop himself from stretching out his wing, ever so slightly, around her back.

He forgot about it, though, when he beheld the test results. “This can’t be right,” he said quietly.

“That’s what I said,” Viktoria said, her narrow face impassive.

There, on the Fae’s Mimir screening, lay the results: small bits of something synthetic. Not organic, not technological, not magic—but a combination of all three.

Find what is in-between,
Aidas had said.

“Danika freelanced for Redner Industries,” Bryce said. “They do all sorts of experiments. Would that explain this?”

“It might,” Viktoria said. “But I’m running the Mimir on every other sample we have—from the others. Initial tests also came up positive on Maximus Tertian’s clothes.” The tattoo on Viktoria’s brow bunched as she frowned. “It’s not pure magic, or tech, or organic. It’s a hybrid, with its other traces causing it to be canceled out in the other categories. A cloaking device, almost.”

Bryce frowned. “What is it, exactly?”

Hunt knew Viktoria well enough to read the caution in the wraith’s eyes. She said to Bryce, “It’s some sort of … drug. From what I can find, it looks like it’s mostly used for medical purposes in very small doses, but might have leaked onto the streets—which led to doses that are far from safe.”

“Danika wouldn’t have taken a drug like that.”

“Of course not,” Viktoria said quickly. “But she was exposed to it—all her clothes were. Whether that was upon her death or before it, however, is unclear. We’re about to run the test on the samples we took from the Pack of Devils and the two most recent victims.”

“Tertian was in the Meat Market,” Hunt murmured. “He might have taken it.”

But Bryce demanded, “What’s it called? This thing?”

Viktoria pointed to the results. “Exactly what it sounds like. Synth.”

Bryce whipped her head around to look at Hunt. “Ruhn said that medwitch mentioned a synthetic healing compound that could possibly repair …” She didn’t finish the statement.

Hunt’s eyes were dark as the Pit, a haunted look in them. “It might be the same one.”

Viktoria held up her hands. “Again, I’m still testing the other victims, but … I just thought you should know.”

Bryce hopped off the stool. “Thanks.”

Hunt let her reach the front door before he murmured to the wraith, “Keep it quiet, Vik.”

“Already wiped the files from the legion database,” Vik said.

They barely spoke while they returned to the gallery, grabbed Syrinx, and headed home. Only when they stood in her kitchen, Hunt leaning against the counter, did he say, “Investigations can take time. We’re getting closer. That’s a good thing.”

She dumped food in Syrinx’s bowl, face unreadable. “What do you think about this synth?”

Hunt considered his words carefully. “As you said, it could have just been exposure Danika had at Redner. Tertian could have just taken it as a recreational drug right before he died. And we’re still waiting to find out if it shows up on the clothes of the remaining victims.”

“I want to know about it,” she said, pulling out her phone and dialing.

“It might not be worth our—”

Ruhn picked up. “Yeah?”

“That synthetic healing drug you heard about from the medwitch. What do you know about it?”

“She sent over some research a couple days ago. A lot of it’s been redacted by Redner Industries, but I’m going through it. Why?”

Bryce glanced toward Hunt’s open bedroom door—to the photo of her and Danika on the dresser, Hunt realized. “There were traces of something called synth on Danika’s clothes—it’s a relatively new synthetic medicine. And it sounds like it’s leaked onto the streets and is being used in higher concentrations as an illegal substance. I’m wondering if it’s the same thing.”

“Yeah, this research is on synth.” Pages rustled in the background. “It can do some pretty amazing things. There’s a list of ingredients here—again, a lot of it was redacted, but …”

Ruhn’s silence was like a bomb dropping.

“But what?” Hunt said into the phone, leaning close enough to hear Bryce’s thundering heart.

“Obsidian salt is listed as one of the ingredients.”

“Obsidian …” Bryce blinked at Hunt. “Could the synth be used to summon a demon? If someone didn’t have the power on their own, could the obsidian salt in the drug let them call on something like the kristallos?”

“I’m not sure,” Ruhn said. “I’ll read through this and let you know what I find.”

“Okay.” Bryce blew out a breath, and Hunt pulled a step away as she began pacing again. “Thanks, Ruhn.”

Ruhn’s pause was different this time. “No problem, Bryce.” He hung up.

Hunt met her stare. She said, “We need to figure out who’s selling this stuff. Tertian must have known before he died. We’re going to the Meat Market.” Because if there was one place in this city where a drug like that might be available, it’d be in that cesspit.

Hunt swallowed. “We need to be
careful
—”

“I want answers.” She aimed for the front closet.

Hunt stepped into her path. “We’ll go tomorrow.” She drew up short, mouth opening. But Hunt shook his head. “Take tonight off.”

“It can’t—”

“Yes, it can wait, Bryce. Talk to your parents tonight. I’ll put on some real clothes,” he added, gesturing to his battle-suit. “And then tomorrow, we’ll go to the Meat Market to ask around. It can wait.” Hunt, despite himself, grabbed her hand. Ran his thumb over the back of it. “Enjoy talking to your parents, Bryce. They’re
alive.
Don’t miss out on a moment of it. Not for this.” She still looked like she’d object, insist they go hunt down the synth, so he said, “I wish I had that luxury.”

She looked down at his hand, gripping hers, for a second—for a lifetime. She asked, “What happened to your parents?”

He said, throat tight, “My mother never told me who my father is. And she … She was a low-ranking angel. She cleaned the villas of some of the more powerful angels, because they didn’t trust humans or other Vanir to do it.” His chest ached at the memory of his mother’s beautiful, gentle face. Her soft smile and dark, angular eyes. The lullabies he could still hear, more than two hundred years later.

“She worked day and night to keep me fed and never once complained, because she knew that if she did, she’d be out of a job and she had me to think about. When I was a foot soldier, and sending home every copper I made, she refused to spend it. Apparently, someone heard I was doing that, thought she had tons of money hidden in her apartment, and broke in one night. Killed her and took the money. All five hundred silver marks she’d amassed over her life, and the fifty gold marks I’d managed to send her after five years in service.”

“I am so sorry, Hunt.”

“None of the angels—the powerful, adored angels—that my mother worked for bothered to care that she’d been killed. No one investigated who did it, and no one granted me leave to mourn. She was nothing to them. But she was … she was everything to me.” His throat ached. “I made the Drop and joined Shahar’s cause soon
after that. I battled on Mount Hermon that day for her—my mother. In her memory.” Shahar had taken those memories and made them into weapons.