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35
The Tar Pits
YVESWICH, STATE OF KER
The tar pits in Yveswich reminded Darien of the ones in the suburbs of eastern Angelthene, though there were more here than there were back at home.
The pits were in a Neutral Zone north-east of Yveswich’s Financial District. While the place had once been a bustling park with a museum and other attractions, the area was now crumbling and deserted, the museum nothing but a dark and empty shell of its former self. The tar pits were scattered across the park, and there were waterfalls nearby, the fresh scent of water mingling with the oily, earthen reek of tar.
The thing about Hounds, unlike many other breeds of demon, was that they could come out in the daylight. They just preferred to do their hunting at night—unless someone disturbed them.
Darien parked the truck near the entrance to the old museum and cut the engine. Jack and Kylar were with him, both of them filling their handguns with ammunition.
Darien flipped open the center console and found a box of bullets that were fortified with morstone powder.
“I can’t remember the last time I slayed a Hound,” Jack said.
Darien drew his handgun from the waistband of his black cargo pants and ejected the magazine. “Probably because you haven’t.”
Jack bristled. “Yeah, actually, I fucking have,” he retorted.
“Then why’d you just fill your pistol with regular bullets?”
“Because I don’t have any morstone ones.”
Darien tossed him the box of bullets. “All you had to do was ask.”
“Thanks,” Jack muttered.
“You didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?”
Jack started swapping out the old bullets for morstone ones. “I maybe got two hours. That Hob is loud as hell.”
Kylar chuckled. “I warned you guys.” He gazed out at the bubbling tar pits. “The House of Black gets hired to slay Hounds all the time. They’re a bitch to kill but not impossible.”
“All the time?” Darien echoed. He finished with the ammunition and slapped the magazine back in. “You got that many?”
“Yveswich is infested with them, I swear.”
“Since when?”
Kylar shrugged. “We’ve always had a fair number, but there have been more lately.”
Darien turned in his seat. “Define ‘lately’.”
Kylar blinked. “Shit, Cassel, I don’t know. Does it matter?”
Darien stared out at the waterfalls, remembering words spoken in his house not too long ago. “I think it does.”
Jack and Kylar both stared at him. Kylar said, “Maybe a few weeks, at most? Where’s your mind at?”
“The waterfalls,” Darien murmured. He faced Jack. “Remember what Tamika said about the waterfalls? What was it?”
Jack’s brows shot up. “You’re asking me?”
Darien swore. “You’re right—you’re useless.” Jack laughed, and Darien opened his door. “Let’s go.” He shifted in his seat, about to get out, when he remembered his gloves. “Jacky, the glove compartment—open it and pass me my gloves.”
He opened the latch. “Is that why they call it a glove compartment?” He tossed them to Darien, and they all got out, shutting their doors quietly.
