Fourteen

 

“How about we trade you keeping all of your bones and internal organs as they currently sit, in return for the information?” Alasdair said.

I turned to face the dealer with a sharp smile. I’d never had much patience for people like him who preyed on the weak and desperate. A predator hunted for prey. They just used people and sat back to roll in their money.

“No, I don’t think I like that deal. I’ll take a vial of blood from each of you, then I’ll consider it,” the dealer said as he took a drink from his scotch.

“Gray, I believe he’d like to see your fire,” Alasdair said.

I wanted to look back at him and ask him what the fuck he was thinking, that surely, breaking his nose would be the better move. We couldn’t afford to look weak or disjointed, though, so I gave the dealer my most predatory grin and watched as Grayson’s hands caught fire. My own fire called to me. It began coursing through my veins.

The deep pleasure of the fire pulsing through me was like nothing else. If that was what Misha felt when she was on Tempo, I could see why she was hooked. I kept my focus on the dealer as I tried to stop my fire from slipping out onto my hands. No one was supposed to know I could do that.

The dealer yawned and finished his drink.

Suddenly, his hair burst into flames, and he flailed trying to put it out. The fire dripped down onto his shirt, which quickly caught fire, too.

He ran around the flat screaming while we watched and waited.

“There’s a lot more where that came from,” Gray said coldly.

“Put it out. Put it out. Fuck. Please.”

Rather than pulling the fire back like I pictured, Grayson pulled up a large mixing bowl, filled it with water, and threw it over the dealer. The edges of his face were bright pink and already blistering. His hair and shirt were both gone.

“I get the Tempo via a dead drop. I have no idea who the guy is. All I know is I got a letter one day from someone saying I could triple my income if I started selling this Tempo shit. I like money, so sue me.”

“Where’s this dead drop?” Alasdair demanded.

I focused on tamping the fire back down within me before he noticed there was something off about me.

“A farm house an hour from here. There’s a storage chest. I leave a note with how much I need and the cash; the next day, the drug’s waiting for me.”

“Address,” Alasdair demanded.

The guy wrote it down with shaky hands and gave it to Grayson.

“I suggest you invest in some healing salve,” Alasdair said with a sharp smile.

We walked out to the lift and Gray hit the button to the bottom floor.

“The security saw our faces,” I said.

“Byrne won’t talk. He’s not that stupid,” Gray said.

Gray and Alasdair both got a text at the same time.

“Fuck,” Gray said.

Alasdair growled.

“Another witchling has gone missing, and the fae are up in arms about something,” Alasdair said.

“Fantastic,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

 

 

 

 

We arrived at Saoirse’s church to find a pair of sidhe pacing around the main area where the pews would usually be and Saoirse ignoring them as she sat near her altar drinking tea.

“Ah, gentlemen. Meet Rhys and Lark,” Saoirse said as she stood.

The sidhe were stunning, as all of their kind were. Their cold pale blue eyes shone in the pale light of the church, and they each had blood-red ribbons tying back their long dark hair. The woman whom I assumed was Lark gave Grayson a sharp-toothed smile.

“You’d fetch a nice price,” she said to him.

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Saoirse.

“You said more witchlings have vanished?” he asked.

“Witches are a dime a dozen, we have a bigger problem here,” the male sidhe snarled.

“A young male witch has gone missing this time - also fifteen, with a little magic. He was lost from the Firenze coven in county Kerry,” Saoirse said as she brought a folder over to us.

“And Rhys and Lark have some… disturbing news,” she said.

“Disturbing! That is a gross understatement. Someone has created and distributed a powder that drains the magic from supernals!” Rhys said icily.

“Permanently?” I asked.

“I do not like where your mind is going,” Rhys said.

I smiled sweetly.

“We do not know if it’s permanent. Thus far it has lasted four days.”

Lark had crept closer to Grayson and was running her long fingers up over his arm towards his throat. Saoirse moved with a speed I didn’t think humans were capable of. She had her hand wrapped around Lark’s throat with the sidhe on her knees at her feet before I’d completely comprehended what had happened.

“Mr. Hawke didn’t harm you because he is a gentleman, an affliction I do not suffer from. You will treat these men with the respect their status affords. Do you understand?” Saoirse said as she squeezed Lark’s throat tighter.

The sidhe lowered her eyes and let out a noise which passed for understanding. Saoirse released her and stepped back with a polite smile on her face.

“And how many have been attacked with this powder, and by whom?” she asked Rhys.

“Five that I have heard of, and by humans. Not even hunters, just simpering humans.”

“We will look into it.”

She looked behind him at the door and put her hands behind her back.

Lark growled and whispered something in a fae language that I was sure was deeply offensive. To my surprise, Saoirse spoke in the same language in a furious deep growl that made a blush creep up over Lark’s cheeks. She lowered her eyes and gave a small bow to Saoirse before hurrying out.

I was glad Saoirse was on my side.