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She’s not distancing herself, she’s just overthinking.
Kind of like someone else I know, the dog said with a brazen snort.
The line finally connected, and someone breathed on the other end.
“It’s me,” Darien said.
A beat of silence, and then the Butcher growled a laugh. “Hey, kid. Still kicking, I see.”
“Still kicking.”
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“That demon you caged. The one that destroyed the carnival. What’d you use to down it?” After Darien had seen the others reinforcing the blades of black adamant Arthur had rushed to create during the Blood Moon, smoothing out the jagged edges and giving them proper hilts, he’d remembered back to the carnival. To the Butcher’s men having caged that powerful monster. They only had three swords of adamant, and three was not enough. Not if the creatures of Spirit Terra were going to keep showing up like this.
The line crackled as the Butcher breathed on the other end. “Morsian darts,” he said, his voice barely a rumble. “It’s a tranquilizer made from the venom in Hound quills.” A tranquilizer was better than nothing.
“Any way you could line some up for me?”
“I’m going to assume you are where I think you are.” Darien didn’t say otherwise. The Butcher took his silence as a yes. “Stop in at Tekram later tonight and find a man named Alfie. He’ll bring you Below to get you what you need. Don’t linger, don’t ask any questions—you know the drill.”
“Got it,” Darien confirmed. “And thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Darien made to hang up—
“Hey,” the Butcher called. “Tell Bright I’m gonna tan her ass.” Loren must’ve heard that, because her brow creased, and she tipped her head at Darien in question.
“What for?” Darien asked.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself.” He hung up, and Darien put the phone on the receiver.
Tekram—market. Next stop, the Black Market.
99
The Black Market
YVESWICH, STATE OF KER
“You created a dating profile for Casen?” Loren gasped later that night as she walked with Dallas through the Black Market, Darien just slightly ahead of them. The sun had set a couple of hours ago. As soon as darkness had fallen, and they’d filled up on leftover pizza for dinner, they’d made their way here. Max and Kylar were here too, the latter leading the way through the maze of tents, booths, and ramshackle buildings while Max followed closely behind Dallas and Loren, a lethal, hooded shadow of a bodyguard.
“I thought he deserved to find love,” Dallas said proudly, her features and hair concealed by her heavy hood. Her wings were hidden tonight too, allowing her to wear the kind of clothing that wasn’t specifically designed for wings. “He’s always so grumpy—when was the last time the man got laid?”
Max chuckled. “Fuck, Red. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t struggle in that area.” He said to Darien, “How mad was he, anyway?”
“He hung up before I could find out.” Darien turned mid-stride to grab Loren’s hand, tugging her up so she was right beside him as the crowds around them thickened.
“The profile’s already gone, so I’m assuming he’s majorly p.o.’d,” Dallas said. “I tried signing in, but it said the account doesn’t exist. I’ll wait a bit before making him another one.” She waggled her copper brows.
Kylar’s husky laughter trickled from up ahead. He turned, the diamond in his tooth winking with a dimpled smile. “You’re asking for it.”
A few minutes later, they reached a small shop with a red wooden door, a round window of bubbled glass cut into the wood. Kylar opened the door, and with an elaborate flourish of his arm, he held it for everyone to file through.
Loren clamped down on the urge to cough as she ducked inside, the reek of hot tar stinging her eyes and clawing down her airways.
A hulking warlock stood behind a spell-protected counter, thumbing through a wad of paper bills he’d just received from the customer waiting on the other side. The dealer’s dark, silver-ringed eyes flicked up to observe their group as they entered. As soon as he was finished counting the cash, he tapped the stack against the counter, smoothing the jagged edges, and slid a bottle of Venom through the wall of spells.
