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He showed her the map of the city he’d pulled up, running a finger over Ward Avenue. Then Central. Main. “The kristallos appeared near all these streets. We thought it was because they were close to the ley lines. But we forgot what lies right beneath the streets, allowing the demon to appear and vanish without anyone noticing. The perfect place for Sabine to summon something and order it to move around the city.” He pointed to the other side of the Gate. To a sewer grate.
Bryce groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Gods, it reeks,” Bryce hissed over the rushing water below, pressing her face into her elbow as she knelt beside Hunt and peered into the open sewer. “What the fuck.”
Soaked from the rain and kneeling in Ogenas knew what on the sidewalk, Hunt hid his smile as the beam of his flashlight skimmed over the slick bricks of the tunnel below in a careful sweep, then over the cloudy, dark river, surging thanks to the waterfalls of rain that poured in through the grates. “It’s a sewer,” he said. “What did you expect?”
She flipped him off. “You’re the warrior-investigator-whatever. Can’t you go down there and find some clues?”
“You really think Sabine left an easy trail like that?”
“Maybe there are claw marks or whatever.” She surveyed the ancient stone. Hunt didn’t know why she bothered. There were claw marks and scratches everywhere. Likely from whatever lowlifes had dwelled and hunted down here for centuries.
“This isn’t some crime-scene investigative drama, Quinlan. It’s not that easy.”
“No one likes a condescending asshole, Athalar.”
His mouth curved upward. Bryce studied the gloom below, mouth tightening as if she’d will the kristallos or Sabine to appear. He’d already sent a message to Isaiah and Vik to get extra cameras on the Gate and the sewer grate, along with any others in the vicinity. If one so much as shifted an inch, they’d know. He didn’t dare ask them to follow Sabine. Not yet.
“We should go down there,” Bryce declared. “Maybe we can pick up her scent.”
He said carefully, “You haven’t made the Drop.”
“Spare me the protective bullshit.”
Dark Hel, this woman. “I’m not going down there unless we have a fuck-ton more weapons.” He only had two guns and a knife. “Demon aside, if Sabine’s down there …” He might outrank Sabine in terms of power, but with the witches’ spells hobbling most of his might through the halo’s ink, he had his proverbial hands tied.
So it’d come down to brute strength, and while he had the advantage there, too, Sabine was lethal. Motivated. And mean as an adder.
Bryce scowled. “I can handle myself.” After the shooting range, he certainly knew that.
“It’s not about you, sweetheart. It’s about me not wanting to wind up dead.”
“Can’t you use your lightning-thing to protect us?”
He suppressed another smile at lightning-thing, but he said, “There’s water down there. Adding lightning to the mix doesn’t seem wise.”
She cut him a glare. Hunt gave one right back.
Hunt had the feeling he’d passed some test when she smiled slightly.
Avoiding that little smile, Hunt scanned the river of filth running below. “All sewers lead to the Istros. Maybe the Many Waters folk have seen something.”
Bryce’s brows rose. “Why would they?”
“A river’s a good place to dump a corpse.”
“The demon left remains, though. It—or Sabine—doesn’t seem to be interested in hiding them. Not if she wants to do this as part of some scheme to jeopardize Micah’s image.”
“That’s only a theory right now,” Hunt countered. “I have a Many Waters contact who might have intel.”
“Let’s head to the docks, then. We’ll be less likely to be noticed at night anyway.”
“But twice as likely to encounter a predator searching for a meal. We’ll wait until daylight.” The gods knew they’d already risked enough in coming down here. Hunt placed the metal lid back on the sewer with a thud. He got one look at her annoyed, dirty face and chuckled. Before he could reconsider, he said, “I have fun with you, Quinlan. Despite how terrible this case is, despite all of it, I haven’t had fun like this in a while.” In ever.
He could have sworn she blushed. “Hang with me, Athalar,” she said, trying to wipe the grime off her legs and hands from kneeling at the grate entrance, “and you might get rid of that stick up your ass after all.”
He didn’t answer. There was just a click.
