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“Donuts.” Tissue paper crinkled in the background. “Whisking Witch makes the best honey-glaze.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Listen, if you’ve got a minute, would you mind looking into something for me?”
“Sure. I got Old Trusty right here.” Keys clacked. Darien presumed he was signing into his laptop.
“Try to find a Detective Nolan at the Magical Protections Unit.”
“You want me to find dirt on him?”
“I want you to find anything on him—I don’t care what it is. A photograph, a date of birth, an address, a fucking marriage certificate, I don’t care.”
“Is there something I should know?”
“Just looking out,” Darien said, accelerating into the lane that was moving faster than the one he was currently in. “For all of us.”
“One Detective Nolan, coming right up.” A burp ripped through the speaker, causing Darien to pull the phone away from his ear.
“Fuck, Atlas. That was nasty.”
“Sorry.” He burped again, but at least this time it was quiet.
“I’ll call you later.” Darien made to hang up when something caught his eye and stilled his hand.
There were several lanes of backed-up traffic up ahead, taillights glowing red.
“Ah, shit.” Darien slammed on the brake, tires losing traction in the puddles that hadn’t dried since the last spell of rain. The steering wheel juddered in hand as the car came to a lurching halt, the bumper missing the car in front of him by a hair’s breadth.
“What?” Tanner asked.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “They still haven’t fixed the lights on Angelthene Boulevard.” They had become finnicky shortly after Kalendae, a side effect that had likely stemmed from the replica of the Arcanum Well. But a few broken lights was a far smaller price to pay than a destroyed city and the deaths of nearly nine million people. “I’ll see you tonight. Save me a donut, will you?”
“Too late. I’m currently feasting on the last one.”
“Asshole.” He hung up in the middle of Tanner’s laughter and tossed the phone into the cupholder, loose change clinking in the bottom of it.
Darien turned up the music until the bass vibrated the speakers. He inched the car forward, staring out his window at the water streaming alongside the curb, storm drains gummed up with garbage and debris. It would take a while to get through the intersection that had turned into a four-way stop, so the music would help him not to think.
It was a soft rock song—his favorite song. He drowned himself in the beat as a new bout of rain fell from the sky. Droplets splashed the windshield and triggered the wipers.
Another rainy day, another broken light, and another person he didn’t fully trust.
—
By the time Darien got through the intersection, he was ready to go to sleep. He sped down Angelthene Boulevard, weaving the car through six lanes of traffic, eager to ditch the heavy congestion that had left his foot inching toward the accelerator, the temptation to cause an accident thrumming in his blood. One more minute in that line of traffic, and he would’ve been done for.
The drumming of the rain and the growl of the engine nearly drowned out the sound of his phone rattling in the cupholder with an incoming call. He grabbed it, keeping an eye on the cars he was flying by as he read the caller identification.
The name on the screen wasn’t one he saw very often. He answered just before her call could go to voicemail, ignoring the feeling of his stomach twisting into a tight knot. “Sab. What’s going on?”
“I just got off the phone with Loren,” Sabrine replied, the sentence crackling from bad reception.
Darien turned the volume up. “What’s going on?” he said again, pressing the device against his ear.
“She said her dad called her and told her his townhouse was broken into. I don’t know if she wanted me to call you, but I thought you should know. She went by herself to meet him. The whole place is destroyed—”
“I’m on my way.” He hung up and set his phone in his lap.
With a quick check in the rear-view mirror, he cranked the steering wheel to the right and pulled a sharp U-turn. Horns blared and tires screeched as vehicles swerved to a stop, barely avoiding collision.
