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An evil chuckle slipped through Malakai’s lips.
Darien scanned the colors again. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Purple. White. Black.
Holy shit.
“What’s missing?” he asked Malakai. Adrenaline sparked in his veins, spurring his heart into a sprint.
Malakai frowned. “Huh?”
Darien rolled his eyes. “What does this look like to you?” He waved an impatient hand at the colors inside the briefcase.
Malakai scanned the contents again. “A rainbow?”
“A rainbow,” Darien confirmed. “And what’s missing?”
He looked again. “Blue.”
Darien nodded. “Blue.”
—
The men threw Loren into the back of a van that was parked down one of the unlit alleys of the Umbra Forum. The tape on her mouth kept her from screaming, and the rope on her wrists and ankles kept her from fighting, as she was literally dumped into the van like a bag of trash. Glass bottles clinked as she hit the floor, where she rolled into stacks of crates, bruises forming on her arms and legs.
They had Dallas too. Loren caught sight of the witch, lying there among crates of what looked like Blood Potions—another of the things they planned on selling, not including the witch and the human they’d just scored from the Umbra Forum. Dallas’s eyes were wide with fear, her mouth taped shut too.
“She’ll sell for a high price,” said one of the men, gauging her worth with a slimy gaze that made her want to cover up.
“Lace Rivera,” another laughed. He hawked and spat a foaming glob of saliva on the ground. “Almost had me fooled.”
The crunch of boots stopped the men from closing the doors. Loren craned her neck to see, but too many bodies blocked whoever was approaching the vehicle from view.
This was it, wasn’t it? They would take them to the blood farm, the horrible place some hopeful people claimed was only a rumor. If it were real, it would be a fate infinitely worse than death.
But then someone spoke, and she recognized the voice as soon as it floated through the night—gravelly and bass. “What did I fucking tell you guys about dealing on my property?” the Butcher drawled. “Selling shit out the back of your van to my paying customers?”
Loren tried to scream around the tape cutting into her mouth. Dallas joined in, wriggling among the crates to make as much noise as possible, but the thunder rumbling overhead drowned them out.
One of the men said, “We weren’t selling shit.”
“Then step aside and show me the evidence. If you’re telling the truth, maybe I won’t cut you into pieces.”
The Butcher stomped up and looked inside the van, but it wasn’t the crates of Blood Potions he noticed first. His eyes widened as he took in Loren…and then widened again as he took in Dallas.
Fury swept across the Butcher’s face. “What the hell is this?” he demanded.
The men drew their weapons, but they weren’t as quick as the Butcher and the guys who flanked him.
Machine guns were out. The whole alley lit up with light and sound that knifed into Loren’s eardrums. Bodies were honeycombed with bullets, the flashes of light stinging her eyes. A mixture of sulfur and saltpeter swept through the air as every last bullet was fired. Blood sprayed the walls, the smell calling demons forth from shadows.
When the noise finally faded, all the shots used up, what was left was a deafening ringing deep in her ears, making it difficult to hear the Butcher when he jerked his unshaven chin at the van. “Cut them free.”
Two of the Butcher’s men stepped up to the van. They dragged Loren and Dallas to the edge of the loading space and helped them sit up straight. Knives cut through the rope on their wrists and ankles. Loren’s cheeks and lips burned as she peeled the tape off her mouth, Dallas doing the same at her side.
The Butcher threw his gun to the ground. The look on his face made them both shrink. “You girls are going to tell me what the hell you are doing here,” he said, his booming voice—no longer muffled by the aftermath of gunshots—quieting the cries of the starved demons farther down the alley, “and you are going to tell me right now.”
Dallas made the mistake of smirking, elbow nudging Loren in the ribs. “He’s going full dad on us.”
The Butcher pointed a meaty finger in her face. “Give me attitude one more time, Bright, and I’ll tan your ass.”
