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“No, it had an SBP logo.” Damien turned back around and reentered the trailer.
“You can’t be in here,” the woman protested.
He locked the door behind him.
“Who are you?” she snapped.
“Me? I am the immortal tailor. And someone has been fucking with my customer base.”
Ten minutes later, Damien left the trailer, his hands in tight balls.
That was…unexpected. Sure you don’t want to go back in there and slice her up?
“No.” Damien had gotten his answers. Part of them, anyway. The woman claimed she only filled out the inventory logs. After that, she didn’t know what was done with the creatures other than the people running things were part of a major pharmaceutical company. Were they experimenting on these creatures? And where did the trafficked women fit in?
Maybe they’re being experimented on, too,he thought.
The text from Sky came in with an address. Time to find out the answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
With the two demons in the backseat, Damien parked in front of the building’s entrance. They were only minutes from the festival at what appeared to be a run-down veterinary clinic. The brown paint on the wood siding was peeling away, and the windows hadn’t been washed in about a decade. Around the side of the building was a silver mobile trailer.
“Bonbon, you know how I feel about your driving, but this time, I want you to get behind the wheel and stay here with the engine running. Lock the doors.”
“Oh! I get to be the getaway driver. Did you hear that, honey?”
“I’m hungry,” she whimpered.
“I know, babe. We didn’t get much time to eat at the festival. Maybe we’ll hit a mall after this.”
Sky:Hurry! Hurry! They just took Pet. I don’t have the energy to help her.
Damien grabbed his bag of tools, shut the car door, and walked inside.
At the counter was an older woman reading a magazine.
“Hello,” he said. “My dog is in the car. He ate something and is throwing up.”
“We only have one vet working, and he’s tied up right now. But there’s a place down the road—”
“Please, his pulse is weak! He may only have seconds to live.” He offered her his most pleading expression.
“Okay. Bring him in.”
“He is very large. Can you help me carry him?”
“Sure.” She came around the counter, and he opened the front door for her.
“Why is that Chihuahua behind the wheel?” She stepped out, and Damien shut the door, locking it behind her.
“Hey! What are you doing?” The woman pounded on the door.
Damien headed around the counter, into the back. There were no cats, dogs, or creatures in the cages against the wall, but he could see the lights on in one of the rooms.
He grabbed his favorite hunting knife and entered.
There on the stainless-steel table was Pet, her tiny body taped facedown. Hovering over her was a man in scrubs with a scalpel. Pet’s little wings had been cut off.
