House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City) (54 page)

59

“
W
hat do you mean,
Danika
was selling it?”

Tharion shook his head. “I don’t know if she was selling it or buying it or what, but right before synth started appearing on the streets, she was spotted on an Auxiliary boat in the dead of night. There was a crate of synth on board.”

Hunt murmured, “It always comes back to Danika.”

Above the roaring in her head, Bryce said, “Maybe she was confiscating it.”

“Maybe,” Tharion admitted, then ran a hand through his auburn hair. “But that synth—it’s some bad shit, Bryce. If Danika was involved in it—”

“She wasn’t. She never would have done something like that.” Her heart was racing so fast she thought she’d puke. She turned to Hunt. “But it explains why there were traces of it on her clothes, if she had to confiscate it for the Aux.”

Hunt’s face was grim. “Maybe.”

She crossed her arms. “What is it, exactly?”

“It’s synthetic magic,” Tharion said, eyes darting between them. “It started off as an aid for healing, but someone apparently realized that in super-concentrated doses, it can give humans strength greater than most Vanir. For short bursts, but it’s potent. They’ve tried to make it for centuries, but it seemed impossible. Most
people thought it was akin to alchemy—just as unlikely as turning something into gold. But apparently modern science made it work this time.” He angled his head. “Does this have to do with the demon you were hunting?”

“It’s a possibility,” Hunt said.

“I’ll let you know if I get any other reports,” Tharion said, and didn’t wait for a farewell before diving back into the water.

Bryce stared out at the river in the midday sun, gripping the white opal in her pocket.

“I know it wasn’t what you wanted to hear,” Hunt said cautiously beside her.

“Was she killed by whoever is creating the synth? If she was on that boat to seize their shipment?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Could the person selling the synth and the person searching for the Horn be the same, if the synth can possibly repair the Horn?”

He rubbed his chin. “I guess. But this could also be a dead end.”

She sighed. “I don’t get why she never mentioned it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t worth mentioning,” he suggested.

“Maybe,” she murmured. “Maybe.”

Bryce waited until Hunt hit the gym in her apartment building before she dialed Fury.

She didn’t know why she bothered. Fury hadn’t taken a call from her in months.

The call nearly went to audiomail before she answered. “Hey.”

Bryce slumped against her bed and blurted, “I’m shocked you picked up.”

“You caught me between jobs.”

Or maybe Juniper had bitten Fury’s head off about bailing.

Bryce said, “I thought you were coming back to hunt down whoever was behind the Raven’s bombing.”

“I thought so, too, but it turned out I didn’t need to cross the Haldren to do it.”

Bryce leaned against her headboard, stretching out her legs. “So
it really was the human rebellion behind it?” Maybe that
C
on the crates Ruhn thought was the Horn was just that: a letter.

“Yeah. Specifics and names are classified, though.”

Fury had said that to her so many times in the past that she’d lost count. “At least tell me if you found them?”

There was a good chance that Fury was sharpening her arsenal of weapons on the desk of whatever fancy hotel she was holed up in right now. “I said I was between jobs, didn’t I?”

“Congratulations?”

A soft laugh that still freaked Bryce the fuck out. “Sure.” Fury paused. “What’s up, B.”

As if that somehow erased two years of near-silence. “Did Danika ever mention synth to you?”

Bryce could have sworn something heavy and metallic clunked in the background. Fury said softly, “Who told you about synth?”

Bryce straightened. “I think it’s getting spread around here. I met a mer today who said Danika was seen on an Aux boat with a crate of it, right before she died.” She blew out a breath.

“It’s dangerous, Bryce. Really dangerous. Don’t fuck around with it.”

“I’m not.” Gods. “I haven’t touched any drugs in two years.” Then she added, unable to stop herself, “If you’d bothered to take my calls or visit, you would have known that.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Liar. Fucking liar and coward.
Bryce ground out, “Look, I wanted to know if Danika had ever mentioned synth to you before she died, because she didn’t mention it to me.”

Another one of those pauses.

“She did, didn’t she.” Even now, Bryce wasn’t sure why jealousy seared her chest.

“She might have said that there was some nasty shit being sold,” Fury said.

“You never thought to mention it to anyone?”

“I did. To you. At the White Raven the night Danika died. Someone tried to sell it to you then, for fuck’s sake. I told you to stay the Hel away from it.”

“And you still didn’t find the chance to mention then or after Danika died that she warned you about it in the first place?”

“A demon ripped her to shreds, Bryce. Drug busts didn’t seem connected to it.”

“And what if it was?”

“How?”

“I don’t know, I just …” Bryce tapped her foot on the bed. “Why wouldn’t she have told me?”

“Because …” Fury stopped herself.

“Because
what
?” Bryce snapped.

“All right,” Fury said, her voice sharpening. “Danika didn’t want to tell you because she didn’t want you getting near it. Even
thinking
about trying synth.”

Bryce shot to her feet. “Why the
fuck
would I ever—”

“Because we have literally seen you take everything.”

“You’ve been right there, taking everything with me, you—”

“Synth is
synthetic magic
, Bryce. To replace
real
magic. Of which you have
none
. It gives humans Vanir powers and strength for like an hour. And then it can seriously fuck you up. Make you addicted and worse. For the Vanir, it’s even riskier—a crazy high and superstrength, but it can easily turn bad. Danika didn’t want you even knowing something like that existed.”

“As if I’m so desperate to be like you big, tough Vanir that I’d take something—”

“Her goal was to protect you.
Always
. Even from yourself.”

The words struck like a slap to the face. Bryce’s throat closed up.

Fury blew out a breath. “Look, I know that came out harsh. But take my word for it: don’t mess with synth. If they’ve actually managed to mass-produce the stuff outside of an official lab and make it in even stronger concentrations, then it’s bad news. Stay away from it, and anyone who deals in it.”

Bryce’s hands shook, but she managed to say “All right” without sounding like she was one breath away from crying.

“Look, I gotta go,” Fury said. “I’ve got something to do tonight. But I’ll be back in Lunathion in a few days. I’m wanted at the
Summit in two weeks—it’s at some compound a few hours outside the city.”

Bryce didn’t ask why Fury Axtar would attend a Summit of various Valbaran leaders. She didn’t really care that Fury would be coming back at all.

“Maybe we can grab a meal,” Fury said.

“Sure.”

“Bryce.” Her name was both a reprimand and an apology. Fury sighed. “I’ll see you.”

Her throat burned, but she hung up. Took a few long breaths. Fury could go to Hel.

Bryce waited to call her brother until she’d plunked her ass down on the couch, opened her laptop, and pulled up the search engine. He answered on the second ring. “Yeah?”

“I want you to spare me the lectures and the warnings and all that shit, okay?”

Ruhn paused. “Okay.”

She put the call on speaker and leaned her forearms on her knees, the cursor hanging over the search bar.

Ruhn asked, “What’s going on with you and Athalar?”

“Nothing,” Bryce said, rubbing her eyes. “He’s not my type.”

“I was asking about why he’s not on the call, not whether you’re dating, but that’s good to know.”

She gritted her teeth and typed
synthetic magic
in the search bar. As the results filtered in, she said, “
Athalar
is off making those muscles of his even nicer.” Ruhn huffed a laugh.

She skimmed the results: small, short articles about the uses of a synthetic healing magic to aid in human healing. “That medwitch who sent you the information about synthetic magic—did she offer any thoughts on why or how it got onto the streets?”

“No. I think she’s more concerned about its origins—and an antidote. She told me she actually tested some of the kristallos venom she got out of Athalar from the other night against the synth, trying to formulate one. She thinks her healing magic can act like some kind of stabilizer for the venom to make the antidote, but she needs more of the venom to keep testing it out. I don’t know. It
sounded like some complex shit.” He added wryly, “If you run into a kristallos, ask it for some venom, would you?”

“Got a crush, Ruhn?”

He snorted. “She’s done us a huge favor. I’d like to repay her in whatever way we can.”

“All right.” She clicked through more results, including a patent filing from Redner Industries for the drug, dating back ten years. Way before Danika’s time working there.

“The research papers say only tiny amounts are released, even for the medwitches and their healing. It’s incredibly expensive and difficult to make.”

“What if … what if the formula and a shipment leaked two years ago from Redner, and Danika was sent out to track it down. And maybe she realized whoever wanted to steal the synth planned to use it to repair the Horn, and she stole the Horn before they could. And then they killed her for it.”

“But why keep it a secret?” Ruhn asked. “Why not bust the person behind it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a theory.” Better than nothing.

Ruhn went quiet again. She had the feeling a Serious Talk was coming and braced herself. “I think it’s admirable, Bryce. That you still care enough about Danika and the Pack of Devils to keep looking into this.”

“I was ordered to by my boss and the Governor, remember?”

“You would have looked once you heard it wasn’t Briggs anyway.” He sighed. “You know, Danika nearly beat the shit out of me once.”

“No she didn’t.”

“Oh, she did. We ran into each other in Redner Tower’s lobby when I went to meet up with Declan after some fancy meeting he was having with their top people. Wait—you dated that prick son of Redner’s, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she said tightly.

“Gross. Just gross, Bryce.”

“Tell me about Danika wiping the floor with your pathetic ass.”

She could nearly hear his smile through the phone. “I don’t know how we got into it about you, but we did.”

“What’d you say?”

“Why are you assuming I did the instigating? Did you ever meet Danika? She had a mouth on her like I’ve never seen.” He clicked his tongue, the admiration in the noise making Bryce’s chest clench. “Anyway, I told her to tell you that I was sorry. She told me to go fuck myself, and fuck my apology.”

Bryce blinked. “She never told me she ran into you.”

“
Ran into
is an understatement.” He whistled. “She hadn’t even made the Drop, and she nearly kicked my balls across the lobby. Declan had to … involve himself to stop it.”

It sounded like Danika all right. Even if everything else she’d learned lately didn’t.

60

“
I
t’s a stretch,” Hunt said an hour later from his spot beside her on the sectional. She’d filled him in on her latest theory, his brows rising with each word out of her mouth.

Bryce clicked through the pages on Redner Industries’ website. “Danika worked part-time at Redner. She rarely talked about the shit she did for them. Some kind of security division.” She pulled up the login page. “Maybe her old work account still has info on her assignments.”

Her fingers shook only slightly as she typed in Danika’s username, having seen it so many times on her phone in the past:
dfendyr
.

DFendyr—Defender. She’d never realized it until now. Fury’s harsh words rang through her head. Bryce ignored them.

She typed in one of Danika’s usual half-assed passwords: 1234567. Nothing.

“Again,” Hunt said warily, “it’s a stretch.” He leaned back against the cushions. “We’re better off doubling down with Danaan on looking for the Horn, not chasing down this drug.”

Bryce countered, “Danika was involved in this synth stuff and never said a word. You don’t think that’s weird? You don’t think there might be something more here?”

“She also didn’t tell you the truth about Philip Briggs,” Hunt
said carefully. “Or that she stole the Horn. Keeping things from you could have been standard for her.”

Bryce just typed in another password. Then another. And another.

“We need the full picture, Hunt,” she said, trying again.
She
needed the full picture. “It all ties together somehow.”

But every password failed. Every one of Danika’s usual combinations.

Bryce shut her eyes, foot bouncing on the carpet as she recited, “The Horn could possibly be healed by the synth in a large enough dose. Synthetic magic has obsidian salt as one of its ingredients. The kristallos can be summoned by obsidian salt …” Hunt remained silent as she thought it through. “The kristallos was bred to track the Horn. The kristallos’s venom can eat away at magic. The medwitch wants some venom to test if it’s possible to create an antidote to synth with her magic or something.”

“What?”

Her eyes opened. “Ruhn told me.” She filled him in on Ruhn’s half-joking request for more venom to give the medwitch.

Hunt’s eyes darkened. “Interesting. If the synth is on the verge of becoming a deadly street drug … we should help her get the venom.”

“What about the Horn?”

His jaw tightened. “We’ll keep looking. But if this drug explodes—not just in this city but across the territory, the world … that antidote is vital.” He scanned her face. “How can we get our hands on some venom for her?”

Bryce breathed, “If we summon a kristallos—”

“We don’t take that risk,” Hunt snarled. “We’ll figure out how to get the venom another way.”

“I can handle myself—”

“
I
can’t fucking handle myself, Quinlan. Not if you might be in danger.”

His words rippled between them. Emotion glinted in his eyes, if she dared to read what was there.

But Hunt’s phone buzzed, and he lifted his hips off the couch
to pull it from the back pocket of his pants. He glanced at the screen, and his wings shifted, tucking in slightly.

“Micah?” she dared ask.

“Just some legion shit,” he murmured, and stood. “I gotta head out for a few. Naomi will take watch.” He gestured to the computer. “Keep trying if you want, but let’s
think
, Bryce, before we do anything drastic to get our hands on that venom.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It was apparently acceptance enough for Hunt to leave, but not before ruffling her hair and leaning down to whisper, his lips brushing the curve of her ear, “JJ would be proud of you.” Her toes curled in her slippers, and stayed that way long after he’d left.

After trying another few password options, Bryce sighed and shut the computer. They were narrowing in on it—the truth. She could feel it.

But would she be ready for it?

Her cycle arrived the next morning like a gods-damned train barreling into her body, which Bryce decided was fitting, given what day it was.

She stepped into the great room to find Hunt making breakfast, his hair still mussed with sleep. He stiffened at her approach, though. Then he turned, his eyes darting over her. His preternatural sense of smell missed nothing. “You’re bleeding.”

“Every three months, like clockwork.” Pure-blooded Fae rarely had a cycle at all; humans had it monthly—she’d somehow settled somewhere in between.

She slid onto a stool at the kitchen counter. A glance at her phone showed no messages from Juniper or Fury. Not even a message from her mom biting her head off about bailing on the medwitch appointment.

“You need anything?” Hunt extended a plate of eggs and bacon toward her. Then a cup of coffee.

“I took something for the cramps.” She sipped her coffee. “But thanks.”

He grunted, going back to plating his own breakfast. He stood on the other side of the counter and wolfed down a few bites before he said, “Beyond the synth stuff and the antidote, I think the Horn ties everything together. We should concentrate on looking for it. There hasn’t been a murder since the temple guard, but I doubt the person has dropped the search for it since they’ve already gone to such trouble. If we get our hands on the Horn, I still feel like the killer will save us the trouble of looking for them and come right to us.”

“Or maybe they found wherever Danika hid it already.” She took another bite. “Maybe they’re just waiting until the Summit or something.”

“Maybe. If that’s the case, then we need to figure out who has it. Immediately.”

“But even Ruhn can’t find it. Danika didn’t leave any hint of where she hid it. None of her last known locations were likely hiding spots.”

“So maybe today we go back to square one. Look at everything we’ve learned and—”

“I can’t today.” She finished off her breakfast and brought the plate over to the sink. “I’ve got some meetings.”

“Reschedule them.”

“Jesiba needs them held today.”

He looked at her for a long moment, as if he could see through everything she’d said, but finally nodded.

She ignored the disappointment and concern in his face, his tone, as he said, “All right.”

Lehabah sighed. “You’re being mean today, BB. And don’t blame it on your cycle.”

Seated at the table in the heart of the gallery’s library, Bryce massaged her brows with her thumb and forefinger. “Sorry.”

Her phone lay dark and quiet on the table beside her.

“You didn’t invite Athie down here for lunch.”

“I didn’t need the distraction.” The lie was smooth. Hunt hadn’t
called her on the other lie, either—that Jesiba was watching the gallery cameras today, so he should stay on the roof.

But despite needing him, needing everyone, at arm’s length today, and despite claiming she couldn’t look for the Horn, she’d been combing over various texts regarding it for hours now. There was nothing in them but the same information, over and over.

A faint scratching sound stretched across the entire length of the library. Bryce pulled over Lehabah’s tablet and cranked up the volume on the speakers, blasting music through the space.

A loud, angry
thump
sounded. From the corner of her eye, she watched the n
ø
kk swim off, its translucent tail slashing through the dim water.

Pop music: Who would have thought it was such a strong deterrent for the creature?

“He wants to kill me,” Lehabah whispered. “I can tell.”

“I doubt you’d make a very satisfying snack,” Bryce said. “Not even a mouthful.”

“He knows that if I’m submerged in water, I’m dead in a heartbeat.”

It was another form of torture for the sprite, Bryce had realized early on. A way for Jesiba to keep Lehabah in line down here, caged within a cage, as surely as all the other animals throughout the space. No better way to intimidate a fire sprite than to have a hundred-thousand-gallon tank looming.

“He wants to kill you, too,” Lehabah whispered. “You ignore him, and he hates that. I can see the rage and hunger in his eyes when he looks at you, BB. Be careful when you feed him.”

“I am.” The feeding hatch was too small for it to fit through anyway. And since the n
ø
kk wouldn’t dare bring its head above the water for fear of the air, only its arms were a threat if the hatch was opened and the feeding platform was lowered into the water. But it kept to the bottom of the tank, hiding among the rocks whenever she dumped in the steaks, letting them drift lazily down.

It wanted to hunt. Wanted something big, juicy, and frightened.

Bryce glanced toward the dim tank, illuminated by three
built-in spotlights. “Jesiba will get bored with him soon and gift him to a client,” she lied to Lehabah.

“Why does she collect us at all?” the sprite whispered. “Am I not a person, too?” She pointed to the tattoo on her wrist. “Why do they insist on this?”

“Because we live in a republic that has decided that threats to its order have to be punished—and punished so thoroughly that it makes others hesitate to rebel, too.” Her words were flat. Cold.

“Have you ever thought of what it might be like—without the Asteri?”

Bryce shot her a look. “Be quiet, Lehabah.”

“But BB—”

“Be
quiet
, Lehabah.” There were cameras everywhere in this library, all with audio. They were exclusive to Jesiba, yes, but to speak of it here …

Lehabah drifted to her little couch. “Athie would talk to me about it.”

“Athie is a slave with little left to lose.”

“Don’t say such things, BB,” Lehabah hissed. “There is
always
something left to lose.”

Bryce was in a foul spirit. Maybe there was something going on with Ruhn or Juniper. Hunt had seen her checking her phone frequently this morning, as if waiting for a call or message. None had come. At least, as far as he could tell on the walk to the gallery. And, judging by the distant, sharp look still on her face as she left just before sunset, none had come in during the day, either.

But she didn’t head home. She went to a bakery.

Hunt kept to the rooftops nearby, watching while she walked into the aqua-painted interior and walked out three minutes later with a white box in her hands.

Then she turned her steps toward the river, dodging workers and tourists and shoppers all enjoying the end of the day. If she was aware that he followed, she didn’t seem to care. Didn’t even look up once as she aimed for a wooden bench along the river walkway.

The setting sun gilded the mists veiling the Bone Quarter. A few feet down the paved walkway, the dark arches of the Black Dock loomed. No mourning families stood beneath them today, waiting for the onyx boat to take their coffin.

Bryce sat on the bench overlooking the river and the Sleeping City, the white bakery box beside her, and checked her phone again.

Sick of waiting until she deigned to talk to him about whatever was eating her up, Hunt landed quietly before sliding onto the bench’s wooden planks, the box between them. “What’s up?”

Bryce stared out at the river. She looked drained. Like that first night he’d seen her, in the legion’s holding center.

She still wasn’t looking at him when she said, “Danika would have been twenty-five today.”

Hunt went still. “It’s … Today’s Danika’s birthday.”

She glanced to her phone, discarded at her side. “No one remembered. Not Juniper or Fury—not even my mom. Last year, they remembered, but … I guess it was a onetime thing.”

“You could have asked them.”

“I know they’re busy. And …” She ran a hand through her hair. “Honestly, I thought they’d remember. I
wanted
them to remember. Even just a message saying something bullshitty, like
I miss her
or whatever.”

“What’s in the box?”

“Chocolate croissants,” she said hoarsely. “Danika always wanted them on her birthday. They were her favorite.”

Hunt looked from the box to her, then to the looming Bone Quarter across the river. How many croissants had he seen her eating these weeks? Perhaps in part because they connected her to Danika the same way that scar on her thigh did. When he looked back at her, her mouth was a tight, trembling line.

“It sucks,” she said, her voice thick. “It sucks that everyone just … moves on, and forgets. They expect me to forget. But I can’t.” She rubbed at her chest. “I
can’t
forget. And maybe it’s fucking weird that I bought my dead friend a bunch of birthday croissants. But the world moved on. Like she never existed.”

He watched her for a long moment. Then he said, “Shahar was that for me. I’d never met anyone like her. I think I loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her in her palace, even though she was so high above me that she might as well have been the moon. But she saw me too. And somehow, she picked me. Out of all of them, she picked me.” He shook his head, the words creaking from him as they crept from that box he’d locked them in all this while. “I would have done anything for her. I
did
anything for her. Anything she asked. And when it all went to Hel, when they told me it was over, I refused to believe it. How could she be gone? It was like saying the sun was gone. It just … there was nothing left if she wasn’t there.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This won’t be a consolation, but it took me about fifty years before I really believed it. That it was over. Yet even now …”

“You still love her that much?”

He held her gaze, unflinching. “After my mother died, I basically fell into my grief. But Shahar—she brought me out of that. Made me feel alive for the first time. Aware of myself, of my potential. I’ll always love her, if only for that.”

She looked to the river. “I never realized it,” she murmured. “That you and I are mirrors.”

He hadn’t, either. But a voice floated back to him.
You look how I feel every day
, she’d whispered when she’d cleaned him up after Micah’s latest assignment. “Is it a bad thing?”

A half smile tugged at a corner of her mouth. “No. No, it isn’t.”