House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City) (58 page)

“So bossy,” Hunt purred against her neck, then claimed her mouth again. And as his lips settled over hers, nipping and taunting, he slid that finger deep into her.

Both of them groaned. “Fuck, Bryce,” he said again. “Fuck.”

Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head at the feeling of that finger. She rocked her hips, desperate to drive him deeper, and he obliged her, pulling out his finger nearly all the way, adding a second, and plunging both back into her.

She bucked, her nails digging into his chest. His thunderous heartbeat raged against her palms. She buried her face in his neck, biting and licking, starving for any taste of him while he pumped his hand into her again.

Hunt breathed into her ear, “I am going to fuck you until you can’t remember your gods-damned name.”

Gods, yes.
“Likewise,” she croaked.

Release shimmered in her, a wild and reckless song, and she rode his hand toward it. His other hand cupped her backside. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten this particular asset,” he murmured, squeezing for emphasis. “I have plans for this beautiful ass, Bryce. Filthy, filthy plans.”

She moaned again, and his fingers stroked into her, over and over.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he purred against her breast, his tongue flicking over her nipple just as one of his fingers curled inside her, hitting that gods-damned spot.

Bryce did. Hunt’s name on her lips, she tipped her head back and let go, riding his hand with abandon, driving them both into the couch cushions.

He groaned, and she swallowed the sound with an openmouthed kiss as every nerve in her body exploded into glorious starlight.

Then there was only breathing, and him—his body, his scent, that strength.

The starlight receded, and she opened her eyes to find him with his head tipped back, teeth bared.

Not in pleasure. In pain.

She’d driven him into the cushions. Shoved his wounded back right up against the couch.

Horror lurched through her like ice water, dousing any heat in her veins. “Oh gods. I am so sorry—”

He cracked his eyes open. That groan he’d made as she came had been
pain
, and she’d been so fucking wild for him that she hadn’t noticed—

“Are you hurt?” she demanded, hoisting herself up from his lap, reaching to remove his fingers, still deep inside her.

He halted her with his other hand on her wrist. “I’ll survive.” His eyes darkened as he looked at her bare breasts, still inches from his mouth. The dress shoved halfway down her body. “I have other things to distract me,” he murmured, leaning down for her peaked nipple.

Or trying to. A grimace passed over his face.

“Dark Hel, Hunt,” she barked, yanking out of his grip, off his
fingers, nearly falling from his lap. He didn’t even fight her as she grabbed his shoulder and peered at his back.

Fresh blood leaked through his bandages.

“Are you out of your mind?” she shouted, searching for anything in the immediate vicinity to press against the blood. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“As you like to say,” he panted, shaking slightly, “it’s my body. I decide its limits.”

She reined in the urge to strangle him, grabbing for her phone. “I’m calling a medwitch.”

He gripped her wrist again. “We’re not done here.”

“Oh yes we fucking are,” she seethed. “I’m not having sex with you when you’re spouting blood like a fountain.” An exaggeration, but still.

His eyes were dark—burning. So Bryce poked his back, a good six inches beneath his wound. His answering wince of pain settled the argument.

Setting her underwear to rights and sliding her dress back over her chest and arms, she dialed the public medwitch number.

The medwitch arrived and was gone within an hour. Hunt’s wound was fine, she’d declared, to Bryce’s knee-wobbling relief.

Then Hunt had the nerve to ask if he was cleared for sex.

The witch, to her credit, didn’t laugh. Just said,
When you’re able to fly again, then I’d say it’s safe for you to be sexually active as well.
She nodded toward the couch cushions—the bloodstain that would require a magi-spell to erase.
I’d suggest whatever … interaction caused tonight’s injury also be postponed until your wings are healed.

Hunt had looked ready to argue, but Bryce had hurried the witch out of the apartment. And then helped him to his bed. For all his questions, he swayed with each step. Nearly collapsed onto his bed. He answered a few messages on his phone, and was asleep before she’d shut off the lights.

Cleared for sex, indeed.

Bryce slept heavily in her own bed, despite what she’d learned and seen about the synth.

But she woke at three. And knew what she had to do.

She fired off an email with her request, and regardless of the late hour, received one back within twenty minutes: she’d need to wait until her request was approved by the 33rd. Bryce frowned. She didn’t have time for that.

She crept from her room. Hunt’s door was shut, his room dark beyond it. He didn’t so much as come to investigate as she slipped out of the apartment.

And headed for her old one.

She hadn’t been on this block in two years.

But as she rounded the corner and saw the flashing lights and terrified crowds, she knew.

Knew what building burned midway down the block.

Someone must have noticed that she’d logged on to Danika’s account at Redner Industries today. Or perhaps someone had been monitoring her email account—and seen the message she’d sent to the building’s landlord. Whoever had done this must have acted quickly, realizing that she’d wanted to come hunt for any other clues Danika might have left around the apartment.

There had to be more. Danika was smart enough to not have put everything she’d discovered in one place.

Terrified, weeping people—her old neighbors—had clustered on the street, hugging each other and gazing up at the blaze in disbelief. Fire licked at every windowsill.

She’d done this—brought this upon the people watching their homes burn. Her chest tightened, the pain barely eased by overhearing a passing water nymph announce to her firefighting squad that every resident was accounted for.

She had caused this.

But—it meant she was getting close.
Look toward where it hurts the most
, the Viper Queen had advised her all those weeks ago. She’d
thought the shifter meant what hurt her. But maybe it had been about the murderer all along.

And by circling in on the synth … Apparently, she’d hit a nerve.

Bryce was halfway home when her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her hastily repaired jacket, the white opal in the pocket clinking against the screen, already bracing herself for Hunt’s questions.

But it was from Tharion.

There’s a deal going down on the river right now. A boat is out there, signaling. Just past the Black Dock. Be there in five and I can get you out to see it.

She clenched the white opal in her fist and wrote back,
A synth deal?

Tharion answered,
No, a cotton candy deal
.

She rolled her eyes.
I’ll be there in three
.

And then she broke into a run. She didn’t call Hunt. Or Ruhn.

She knew what they’d say.
Do not fucking go there without me, Bryce
.
Wait
.

But she didn’t have time to waste.

65

B
ryce gripped Tharion’s waist so hard it was a wonder he didn’t have difficulty breathing. Beneath them, the wave skimmer bobbed on the river’s current. Only the occasional passing glow under the dark surface indicated that there was anything or anyone around them.

She’d hesitated when the mer arrived at the pier, the matte black wave skimmer idling.
It’s either this or swimming, Legs
, he’d informed her.

She’d opted for the wave skimmer, but had spent the last five minutes regretting it.

“Up there,” the mer male murmured, cutting the already quiet engine. It must have been a stealth vehicle from the River Queen’s stash. Or Tharion’s own, as her Captain of Intelligence.

Bryce beheld the small barge idling on the river. Mist drifted around them, turning the few firstlights on the barge into bobbing orbs.

“I count six people,” Tharion observed.

She peered into the gloom ahead. “I can’t make out what they are. Humanoid shapes.”

Tharion’s body hummed, and the wave skimmer drifted forward, carried on a current of his own making.

“Neat trick,” she murmured.

“It always gets the ladies,” he muttered back.

Bryce might have chuckled had they not neared the barge. “Keep downwind so they can’t scent us.”

“I know how to remain unseen, Legs.” But he obeyed her.

The people on the boat were hooded against the misting rain, but as they drifted closer—

“It’s the Viper Queen,” Bryce said, her voice hushed. No one else in this city would have the swagger to wear that ridiculous purple raincoat. “Lying
asshole
. She said she didn’t deal in synth.”

“No surprise,” Tharion growled. “She’s always up to shady shit.”

“Yeah, but is she buying or selling this time?”

“Only one way to find out.”

They drifted closer. The barge, they realized, was painted with a pair of snake eyes. And the crates piled on the rear of the barge … “Selling,” Tharion observed. He jerked his chin to a tall figure facing the Viper Queen, apparently in a heated discussion with someone beside them. “Those are the buyers.” A nod to the person half-hidden in the shadows, arguing with the tall figure. “Disagreeing about what it’s worth, probably.”

The Viper Queen was selling synth. Had it really been her this entire time? Behind Danika and the pack’s deaths, too, despite that alibi? Or had she merely gotten her hands on the substance once it leaked from the lab?

The arguing buyer shook their head with clear disgust. But their associate seemed to ignore whatever was said and chucked the Viper Queen what looked like a dark sack. She peered inside, and pulled something out. Gold flashed in the mist.

“That is a fuck-ton of money,” Tharion murmured. “Enough for that entire shipment, I bet.”

“Can you get closer so we can hear?”

Tharion nodded, and they drifted again. The barge loomed, the attention of all aboard fixed on the deal going down rather than the shadows beyond it.

The Viper Queen was saying to them, “I think you’ll find this to be sufficient for your goals.”

Bryce knew she should call Hunt and Ruhn and get every
legionary and Aux member over here to shut this down before more synth flooded the streets or wound up in worse hands. In the hands of fanatics like Philip Briggs and his ilk.

She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket, flicking a button to keep the screen from lighting up. A push of another button had the camera function appearing. She snapped a few photos of the boat, the Viper Queen, and the tall, dark figure she faced. Human, shifter, or Fae, she couldn’t tell with the jacket and hood.

Bryce pulled up Hunt’s number.

The Viper Queen said to the buyers, “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, don’t you?”

The tallest buyer didn’t reply. Just stiffly turned back to their companions, displeasure written in every movement as the firstlights illuminated the face beneath the hood.

“Holy fuck,” Tharion whispered.

Every thought eddied out of Bryce’s head.

There was nothing left in her but roaring silence as Hunt’s face became clear.

66

B
ryce didn’t know how she wound up on the barge. What she said to Tharion to make him pull up. How she climbed off the wave skimmer and onto the boat itself.

But it happened fast. Fast enough that Hunt had made it only three steps before Bryce was there, soaked and wondering if she’d puke.

Guns clicked, pointing at her. She didn’t see them.

She only saw Hunt whirl toward her, his eyes wide.

Of course she hadn’t recognized him from a distance. He had no wings. But the powerful build, the height, the angle of his head … That was all him.

And his colleague behind him, the one who’d handed over the money—Viktoria. Justinian emerged from the shadows beyond them, his wings painted black to conceal them in the moonlight.

Bryce was distantly aware of Tharion behind her, telling the Viper Queen that she was under arrest on behalf of the River Queen. Distantly aware of the Viper Queen chuckling.

But all she heard was Hunt breathe, “Bryce.”

“What the fuck is this?” she whispered. Rain slashed her face. She couldn’t hear, couldn’t get any air down, couldn’t think as she said again, her voice breaking, “What the
fuck
is this, Hunt?”

“It is exactly what it looks like,” a cold, deep voice said behind her.

In a storm of white wings, Micah emerged from the mists and landed, flanked by Isaiah, Naomi, and six other angels, all armed to the teeth and in legion black. But they made no move to incapacitate the Viper Queen or her cronies.

No, they all faced Hunt and his companions. Aimed their guns toward them.

Hunt looked at the Governor—then at the Viper Queen. He snarled softly, “You fucking bitch.”

The Viper Queen chuckled. She said to Micah, “You owe me a favor now, Governor.”

Micah jerked his chin in confirmation.

Viktoria hissed at her, halo crinkling on her brow, “You set us up.”

The Viper Queen crossed her arms. “I knew it would be worth my while to see who came sniffing around for this shit when word leaked that I got my hands on a shipment,” she said, motioning toward the synth. Her smile was pure poison as she looked at Hunt. “I was hoping it’d be you, Umbra Mortis.”

Bryce’s heart thundered. “What are you talking about?”

Hunt pivoted to her, his face bleak in the floodlights. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like this, Bryce. Maybe at first, but I saw that video tonight and I tried to stop it, stop them, but they wouldn’t fucking
listen
—”

“These three thought synth would be an easy way to regain what was taken from them,” the Viper Queen said. A vicious pause. “The power to overthrow their masters.”

The world shifted beneath her. Bryce said, “I don’t believe you.”

But the flicker of pain in Hunt’s eyes told her that her blind, stupid faith in his innocence had gutted him.

“It’s true,” Micah said, his voice like ice. “These three learned of the synth days ago, and have since been seeking a way to purchase it—and to distribute it among their fellow would-be rebels. To attain its powers long enough to break their halos, and finish what Shahar started on Mount Hermon.” He nodded toward the Viper Queen. “She was gracious enough to inform me of this plan, after Justinian tried to recruit a female under her … influence.”

Bryce shook her head. She was trembling so hard that Tharion gripped her around the waist.

“I told you I’d figure out your asking price, Athalar,” the Viper Queen said.

Bryce began crying. She hated every tear, every shuddering, stupid gasp. Hated the pain in Hunt’s eyes as he stared at her, only her, and said, “I’m sorry.”

But Bryce just asked, “
Days
ago?”

Silence.

She said again, “You knew about the synth
days
ago?”

Her heart—it was her stupid fucking heart that was cracking and cracking and cracking …

Hunt said, “Micah assigned me some targets. Three drug lords. They told me that two years ago, a small amount of synth leaked from the Redner lab and onto the streets. But it ran out fast—too fast. They said that finally, after two years of trying to replicate it, someone had figured out the formula at last, and it was now being made—and would be capable of amping up our power. I didn’t think it had anything to do with the case—not until recently. I didn’t know the truth of what the Hel it could even
do
until I saw that footage of the trials.”

“How.” Her word cut through the rain. “How did it leak?”

Hunt shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Micah said coldly, “Danika Fendyr.”

Bryce backed up a step, into Tharion’s grip. “That’s not possible.”

Hunt said with a gentleness that decimated her, “Danika sold it, Bryce. It’s why she was spotted on that boat with the crate of it. I figured it out nearly a week ago. She stole the formula for it, sold the stock, and—” He stopped himself.

“And
what
?” Bryce whispered. “And
what
, Hunt?”

“And Danika used it herself. Was addicted to it.”

She was going to be sick. “Danika would
never
have done that. She never would have done
any
of this.”

Hunt shook his head. “She did, Bryce.”

“No.”

When Micah didn’t interrupt them, Hunt said, “Look at the
evidence.” His voice was sharp as knives. “Look at the last messages between you. The drugs we found in your system that night—that was standard shit for you two. So what was one more kind of drug? One that in small doses could give an even more intense high? One that could take the edge off for Danika after a long day, after Sabine had ripped her apart yet again? One that gave her a taste of what it’d be like to be Prime of the wolves,
gave
her that power, since she was waiting to make the Drop with you?”

“
No
.”

Hunt’s voice cracked. “She took it, Bryce. All signs point to her killing those two CCU students the night the Horn was stolen. They saw her stealing the Horn and she chased them down and killed them.”

Bryce remembered Danika’s pallor when she’d told her about the students’ deaths, her haunted eyes.

“It’s not true.”

Hunt shook his head. As if he could undo it, unlearn it. “Those drug lords I killed said Danika was seen around the Meat Market. Talking about synth. It was how Danika knew Maximus Tertian—he was an addict like her. His girlfriend had no idea.”

“No.”

But Hunt looked to Micah. “I assume we’re going now.” He held out his wrists. For cuffs. Indeed, those were gorsian stones—thick, magic-killing manacles—gleaming in Isaiah’s hands.

The Archangel said, “Aren’t you going to tell her the rest?”

Hunt stilled. “It’s not necessary. Let’s go.”

“Tell me what,” Bryce whispered. Tharion’s hands tightened on her arms in warning.

“That he already knows the truth about Danika’s murder,” the Archangel said coldly. Bored. As if he’d done this a thousand times, in a thousand variations. As if he’d already guessed.

Bryce looked at Hunt and saw it in his eyes. She began shaking her head, weeping. “No.”

Hunt said, “Danika took the synth the night she died. Took too much of it. It drove her out of her mind. She slaughtered her own pack. And then herself.”

Only Tharion’s grip was keeping her upright. “No, no, no—”

Hunt said, “It’s why there was never any audio of the killer, Bryce.”

“She was begging for her life—”

“She was begging herself to stop,” Hunt said. “The only snarls on the recording were hers.”

Danika. Danika had killed the pack. Killed Thorne. Killed Connor.

And then ripped herself to shreds.

“But the Horn—”

“She must have stolen it just to piss off Sabine. And then probably sold it on the black market. It had nothing to do with any of this. It was always about the synth for her.”

Micah cut in, “I have it on good authority that Danika stole footage of the synth trials from Redner’s lab.”

“But the kristallos—”

“A side effect of the synth, when used in high doses,” Micah said. “The surge of powerful magic it grants the user also brings the ability to open portals, thanks to the obsidian salt in its formula. Danika did just that, accidentally summoning the kristallos. The black salt in the synth can have a mind of its own. A sentience. Its measurement in the synth’s formula matches the unholy number of the kristallos. With high doses of synth, the power of the salt gains control and can summon the kristallos. That’s why we’ve been seeing them recently—the drug is on the streets now, in doses often higher than recommended. Like you suspected, the kristallos feeds on vital organs, using the sewers to deposit bodies into the waterway. The two recent murder victims—the acolyte and the temple guard—were the unfortunate victims of someone high on the synth.”

Silence fell again. And Bryce turned once more to Hunt. “You knew.”

He held her stare. “I’m sorry.”

Her voice rose to a scream.
“You knew!”

Hunt lunged—one step toward her.

A gun gleamed in the dark, pressed against his head, and halted him in his tracks.

Bryce knew that handgun. The engraved silver wings on the black barrel.

“You move, angel, and you fucking die.”

Hunt held up his hands. But his eyes did not leave Bryce as Fury Axtar emerged from the shadows beyond the crates of synth.

Bryce didn’t question how Fury had arrived without even Micah noticing or how she knew to come. Fury Axtar was liquid night—she’d made herself infamous for knowing the world’s secrets.

Fury edged around Hunt, backing up to Bryce’s side. She pocketed the gun in the holster at her thigh, her usual skintight black suit gleaming with rain and her chin-length black hair dripping with it, but said to the Viper Queen, “Get the fuck out of my sight.”

A sly smile. “It’s my boat.”

“Then go somewhere I can’t see your face.”

Bryce didn’t have it in her to be shocked that the Viper Queen obeyed Fury’s order.

Didn’t have it in her to do anything but stare at Hunt. “You knew,” she said again.

Hunt’s eyes scanned hers. “I never wanted you to be hurt. I never wanted you to know—”

“You knew, you knew, you knew!”
He’d figured out the truth, and for nearly a week, he’d said nothing to her. Had let her go on and on about how much she loved her friend, how great Danika had been, and had led her in fucking
circles
. “All your talk about the synth being a waste of my time to look into …” She could barely get the words out. “Because you realized the truth already. Because you
lied
.” She threw out an arm to the crates of drugs. “Because you learned the truth and then realized you wanted the synth for yourself? And when you wanted to help the medwitch find an antidote … It was for
yourself
. And all of this for what—to rebel again?”

Hunt slid to his knees, as if he’d beg her forgiveness. “At first, yes, but it was all just based on a rumor of what it could do. Then tonight I saw that footage you found, and I wanted to pull out from the deal. I knew it wasn’t right—any of it. Even with the antidote, it was too dangerous. I realized
all
this was the wrong path. But you
and me, Bryce …
You
are where I want to end up. A life—with
you
.
You
are my fucking path.” He pointed to Justinian and Viktoria, stone-faced and handcuffed. “I messaged them that it was over, but they got spooked, contacted the Viper Queen, and insisted it was going down
tonight.
I swear, I came here only to stop it, to put a fucking
end
to it before it became a disaster. I
never
—”

She grabbed the white opal from her pocket and hurled it at him.

Hurled it so hard it slammed into Hunt’s head. Blood flowed from his temple. As if the halo itself were bleeding.

“I never want to see you again,” she whispered as Hunt gazed at the blood-splattered opal on the deck.

“That won’t be a problem,” Micah said, and Isaiah stepped forward, gorsian stone manacles gleaming like amethyst fire. The same as those around Viktoria’s and Justinian’s wrists.

Bryce couldn’t stop shaking as she leaned back into Tharion, Fury a silent force beside her.

“Bryce, I’m sorry,” Hunt said as a grim-looking Isaiah clapped the shackles on him. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you—”

“That’s enough,” Fury said. “You’ve said and done enough.” She looked to Micah. “She’s done with you. All of you.” She tugged Bryce toward her wave skimmer idling beside Tharion’s, the mer male guarding their backs. “You bother her again and I’ll pay
you
a visit, Governor.”

Bryce didn’t notice as she was eased onto the wave skimmer. As Fury got on in front of her and gunned the engine. As Tharion slipped onto his and trailed, to guard the way back to shore.

“Bryce,” Hunt tried again as she wrapped her arms around Fury’s tiny waist. “Your heart was already so broken, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was—”

She didn’t look back at him as the wind whipped her hair and the wave skimmer launched into the rain and darkness.

“
BRYCE!
” Hunt roared.

She didn’t look back.