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He’d kill him. He’d fucking kill him—
“And then they’ll string her up, just like they do you,” he pointed now in Roman’s face, “and squeeze her little brain until she’s bleeding from the eyes and ears. Just like they do you.” His mouth twitched with a smile. “See where I’m going with this? Except—plot twist.” He flourished his hands, black mist swirling. “They’ll do it till she stops breathing. And you’re gonna go in afterward,” he poked him in the chest, “and clean up her blood.” For several beats, Don stared at him in disgust. “Do you want to hear what I’ll do to Pax if you don’t listen this time?”
Adham slackened his hold enough for Roman to hiss, “No.”
But Don wet his lips. “For Pax, I’ve got a bit of a different plan—“
Roman thrashed, the wire slicing a line into his skin. “I fucking said no!”
Don smiled, but his eyes were burning coals. “Let him go.” He waved a hand at Adham.
The wire was lifted, and Roman had to resist the urge to collapse to his knees, instead bracing a shaking hand against the cold wall. “Pax and Eugene,” he squeezed out. “You let them go—I’ll stay away from Shay.”
Don sized him up—studying him to see if he was lying. Smiled a little—a cold and deadly thing. “Fine.” A whistle cut through Don’s lips.
Trey got out of the van and came around to open the sliding door. Pax and Eugene stepped out, eyes bolted wide with fear.
“Shouldn’t have kept that house from me, Roman,” Don said. He made to leave, but turned back, coming back for more. He always came back for more. “Oh—about the house. I’ll be selling it and keeping all the money. Better enjoy it while you can; I’ve already got a few offers lined up.”
Fuck him.
Fuck. Him.
“Pax’s got a magic lesson next weekend,” Don called as he made for the van, reaching out a hand to muss up Paxton’s hair as he passed. Don threw Roman a smile over his shoulder. “And you’re gonna watch.”
103
The Tar Pits
YVESWICH, STATE OF KER
“I seem to remember,” Malakai began, unable to resist, as he and Darien filled up several vials with tar from the bubbling pit they were crouched beside, “the last time we were working together, you said you’d show me some naked photos of your girl.” He fought the urge to smile, already sensing that Darien was going to detonate. Cassel was a walking bomb, and if you wanted to set him off, all you had to do was poke him with a little stick labeled ‘Loren’.
And damn, was it fun to set him off.
“Don’t even start,” Darien warned as he capped the vial and filled up another. Moonlight trickled through the park, limning the edges of their black clothing with silver. Fog—the normal kind—hugged the bluffs at the outskirts of the grounds, while dark, otherworldly smog that was typically found in monster habitats hung out in the dips and hollows in the earth, creating the perfect hiding spots for the lesser breeds of demon.
“You were the one who said it,” Malakai crooned.
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Darien snapped, his eyes turning black under his hood.
“Dude, your inability to keep your voice down,” Malakai hissed, casting a pointed look at the Hounds scattered throughout the park, some of them sleeping in pits or waterfalls, others gorging on prey that might’ve been human, “is going to get you dragged into one of these pits, and I will not save your ass if that happens. All I’m saying—”
“I didn’t fucking say that,” Cassel bit out, quieter now, eyes still black with the Sight. Malakai knew he was itching for Venom; Ivy had filled him in on a lot since he’d got to Yveswich, and she hadn’t left out the little tidbit about Darien being addicted to Venom. The longer Malakai hung out with this asshole, the more they had in common. Cassel continued, “And you will not see a single one.”
Malakai grinned. “So you do have some.”
Darien merely glared and resumed filling up the last of their vials.
When they made it back to the Black Market and found the dealer in a tiny tin shop deep in the maze of stalls, the warlock told them he would need some time to make the Venom, but confirmed they’d brought enough tar to get triple the amount Darien had bought from the guy last time—enough to feed their addictions and their magic.
Perfect.
“Come back in one hour,” the warlock said as he took the glass vials into a meaty hand. “I’ll have your Venom.”
They were walking through the Black Market, back toward the truck, when Cassel slowed, his eyes drifting to a fighting ring nearby. A black sign painted with a white snake was nailed to the base of the enclosure, the wood warped from the weather. The roped-in square was surrounded by spectators, and inside the ring, men and a few women of every species aside from human fought to the death, their faces concealed with masks that ranged from black adamant to the kind they wore on ski hills.
Darien threw Malakai a look. “You feel like fighting to kill some time?”
