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“So maybe he wants to help us,” Malakai began dubiously, eyes wide with exaggerated intensity. “So what? I don’t trust his boss.”
“Neither do I, but we won’t need these, you’ll just be wasting them.”
“Fine, you salt hog.” Malakai lifted himself up in his seat to get his hand in the back pocket of his gray jeans. Darien watched as he retrieved a glass bottle of eye drops, thick and black as ink. He tipped his head back and dripped three drops into each eye. By the time he’d twisted the cap back on, his eyes were solid black, and there were dark lines showing through the thin skin around his eyes and on his temples.
“Venom?” Darien scoffed. “Really? You know that shit is highly addictive, right?”
Malakai tucked the bottle back into his pocket. “You won’t share your salt, so this is what I have to do.”
“When did you become paranoid?” Darien asked, throwing the bag of black salt back into the compartment and slamming the lid shut.
“I’m not paranoid, I’m smart. And you’re clearly not smart.” Malakai opened his door and placed a booted foot on the damp pavement. “You coming or what?” He glanced back, hair swaying in the breeze. “What are you staring at, dumbass?”
“You look terrifying.” Darien had only taken Venom once, and that was two years ago. He was rip-roaring drunk at a nightclub and thought it’d be a good idea, and when he’d stumbled into the bathroom, he’d nearly scared the piss out of himself when he saw his reflection. He might’ve even smashed the glass, but he couldn’t really remember.
When Malakai smiled, the combination of sharp silver canines and black-veined eyes reminded Darien of that monster under the Strangler Fig. “Good,” Malakai said. “That way if they are planning an ambush, they’ll think twice before messing with us.”
Yeah, that was probably true. Venom allowed hellsehers to dive deeper into their stores of magic than Stygian salts, but unlike the salts, it came with a hefty price. Not only was it addicting, but because of the heaps of magic a person could access while on Venom, their risk of contracting the Tricking increased almost tenfold.
Malakai could go ahead and mess around with Venom, but Darien would pass. He didn’t come this far in life, ditching the drugs years ago, only to end up right back on them again. He adjusted the gun that was strapped near his hip—concealed by his jeans and hoodie—and got out of the car.
Finn was waiting for them in a gray sedan near the gates to a wrecking yard. Boots splashed in puddles of mud as Darien and Malakai crossed the parking lot, and gulls yacked from their perches on warehouse roofs. They both kept their hoods up, concealing their faces from view, regardless that the area was seemingly deserted. Still, Darien scanned his surroundings with his Sight, looking through the walls of the buildings and the rusted skeletons of old vehicles, the trees and the cement barricades lining the roads up on the hill.
When they were several feet from the vehicle, Finn got out of the driver’s side, leaving the engine running as he shut the door. There were spells on the car, but Darien could see through them just enough to tell there was no one else inside.
Mud squelched as Finn approached at a casual pace, hands in his jacket pockets. “I have to admit this is weird,” Finn said.
“It’s just as weird for us,” Darien replied. He cast a pointed look about the area. “Where’s your backup?”
“Don’t need them. I trust you guys.”
Malakai gave a derisive snort. “That’s pretty ballsy. Isn’t having backup a requirement for hotshot detectives like you?”
“They’re on standby on thirty-fourth.” He jerked his chin at the roads up top. “Go have a look if you don’t believe me.”
Malakai grunted in irritation.
Finn frowned at the dark webbing around Malakai’s eyes. “I’m going to pretend I don’t see you high on Venom right now.”
The Reaper took his right hand out of the pocket of his hoodie and gave Finn the middle finger.
“Alright, enough pissing around,” Darien said, reaching into his back pocket. “I’ve got Gaven’s trust with his newest route and a few names of old clients who buy in bulk.” He pulled out the photocopy of the route Gaven had given him at the Advocate and handed it to Finn.
A storm rumbled in the distance as Finn unfolded the square of paper and scanned it. Darien could smell the rain coming, an earthy zing made more pungent with the threat of lightning—a sharp odor that reminded him of electrical sparks.
“So, what’s the plan?” Darien prompted. “You wanted dealer intel, I’ve brought you dealer intel. Now tell me how long I need to pretend to tolerate these guys until we can throw them behind bars.”
“This is only one route,” Finn sighed, stroking the dark stubble on his chin. “One route, and it’s probably temporary, considering Gaven is smart enough to not fully trust you yet, and no locations for where they or their buyers keep their supplies.” He slapped the paper with the back of his hand and shook his head.
“How many do you want?” Darien snapped. “The longer I do this, the riskier it’ll get.”
“It’s a start, I’m not complaining,” Finn said quickly. He refolded the paper and tucked it into his jacket. “I want you to watch Gaven for the next little while, see if he frequents this route or if it’s a one-time thing, and see if you can find out where he keeps his supplies. These men he’s selling to…they buy these weapons in the hundreds, if not thousands. They, and Gaven, need to be taken down.”
Gang activity in Angelthene was at an all-time high, just like its drug problem. People were dying every day. Innocents were getting caught in the crossfire, including those few students who’d died only a couple of weeks ago, killed by a Blood Stave attack—a horrible tragedy that never should’ve happened. And it wasn’t just Angelthene; it was the whole state of Witheredge, and Gaven and his men were the suppliers who fuelled these crimes, bringing in magic staves charged with Blood Magic from overseas. At least, that was what the rumors claimed. But Gaven was careful to keep his roots buried deep. Darien would be willing to bet that where he sourced his weapons from was a lot closer than he claimed.
Darien said, “As soon as we find out where they keep their supplies, I want you to arrest Gaven, his men, and his clients. Got it?”
“I’ll run it by Nolan,” Finn replied. “But I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
