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Neither of them said anything more as they drove to Casa Brewery. It wasn’t safe to talk in a vehicle that wasn’t their own; they would need to save their words for when they were alone again, without the chance of a hidden recording device hearing them.
It came as no surprise to Darien that the people picking up the crates were merely middlemen. Whoever was buying the contents of these crates were smart enough not to show their faces. Casa Brewery was a useless location as well—a mere pickup point that Darien knew was temporary, an assumption that was soon confirmed by the men who’d purchased the crates leaving the parking lot of the deserted brewery, disappearing down an unlit side road.
Another plan. Darien would have to think of another plan to find answers as to what Gaven was selling.
Two routes down, and one had gone to shit, with nothing useful to pass along to Finn.
Oh well. One for one was better than o for two.
—
“We were tailed,” Darien said, chewing on a toothpick to curb his nicotine craving as he spoke to Solace on the phone. He and Malakai were back in his car, parked on a dark street around the corner from the Bonefish Market. “Middlemen picked up the delivery at Casa Brewery, and then we were tailed again back to the Iron Dock.”
Finn swore. “Alright. How big was the delivery?”
“Six crates. They were all coated in concealment spells; we couldn’t see inside.” The tension Finn was exuding echoed Darien’s own. The detective seemed to be getting as tired of this shit as Darien was. Darien said, “Any news to report on your end?”
“The three hellseher autopsies will be completed by morning.” That was fast. “I put the best pathologist at the General on the job.”
“Give me a shout when they’re done, will you?”
“I will.”
Darien hung up and threw his phone onto the console, where it slid against the base of the windshield. He started the car and drove up the hill, taking the access road onto the highway, accelerating to merge with the sparse nightly traffic.
Malakai said, “What now?”
“Our best shot at getting answers lies in figuring out where Gaven keeps his supplies.”
“I’ve got Brodie and Macen still on it. And when they’re not on it, Sylvan and Valen are. Sooner or later, they’ll need to find something. The guy’s gotta check in on his supplies at some point…” His words trailed off as he studied Darien with a look of disgust.
“What?” Darien demanded.
“What’s with the toothpick?”
“It’s a distraction.”
“From what?”
“I’m quitting smoking.”
Malakai wheezed a laugh. A long, drawn-out wheeze that was soon shifting into booming laughter. “You? Quit smoking?” The wheezing returned. “That’s a good one. What are you going to do next, get married and start going to Temple?”
Darien punched him in the shoulder. Hard.
“Hey!” Malakai swung back.
Darien barely turned his head on time, taking the hit on the back of it instead of the temple.
They kept swinging at each other, cursing and shouting. The car swerved. Horns blared from the lanes on either side of them, and some old lady with a puff of gray hair gave Malakai’s tinted window the middle finger. Darien wondered why she was out this late; maybe she had reached the age of being fed up with life and simply not caring anymore, the same type of woman who would probably beat the daylights out of a demon or thief with her purse.
Darien admired that level of guts.
“Watch it!” Malakai bellowed.
Darien corrected the steering wheel before the car could collide with the barricade. “Fuck you.”
“Yeah, fuck you too, you prick.”
