Walter nodded, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. He swallowed it down with a Guinness and cut into his steak. “Saw you talking to the vamp and didn’t want to disturb. Plus, I couldn’t wait. Blood sugar drops like a dead toad on hot pavement and makes me real mean.”
Rowan sat down opposite Walter, refusing to comment. Rowan had never seen the man in a good mood.
The waitress, a young woman of delicate features, wearing black jeans and an over-sized long-sleeved shirt, with matching green lipstick and chipped nail polish, wove toward them. There was a slight point around the tips of her ears and soulful brown eyes, and according to her badge her name was Holly.
Rowan guessed she was a half-blood. She had the look of a fairy, but without the white aura that accompanied them. It made sense she’d work here. It was probably the only place she felt accepted.
She flipped open her pad, arched a thin eyebrow and glanced in Rowan’s direction. “Dinner or drinks?”
“Just coffee. Black.”
Walter rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, and pointed with his other to his empty mug, indicating he wanted another beer. “The last Guinness tasted off. Tell the bartender to take his time. Guinness requires a proper pour. If he needs instruction, I’m his man.”
The young woman nodded, nervously, and left as quickly as she’d appeared.
Walter bent his head and scooped up a mouthful of steak with his fork and knife before he shrugged. “Colin must have hired a new bartender. What’s our question?”
Rowan spread on the table the photos Lyons had given him of the body at Gas Works Park. “You said you might have a lead?”
Walter wiped his mouth with his napkin, pulled one of the pictures closer to him and squinted. “Where’s the body?”
“City morgue.”
“Mind if I keep these? I’ll check around some more, but I don’t think you’re going to like what I find. As I told you on the phone, I have already made a few inquiries. Someone’s found a way to kill Wizards and make it look like the poor sod got mixed up with drugs and shit. No one cares if a druggie dies, or that’s the theory making the rounds.”
The waitress returned with Rowan’s coffee just as Renegade slid into the booth beside Walter.
Renegade nodded to the waitress, adding a warm smile as though he’d sensed she needed a small measure of kindness. “Could you bring me a coffee as well, love?” Her dark expression seemed to lighten for a moment, before she turned to wait on another customer. Renegade shoved a cell phone toward Rowan. “A present from your brother.”
“I already have a phone.”
Renegade shrugged. “Stryker said your cell service either sucks or has been hacked, or else you’ve been avoiding returning his calls. Anyway, it’s yours. He told me to make sure you got it. If you have a problem, take it up with your brother.”
“Did Stryker say if he’d found out anything?”
“He’s complaining about having to babysit Lyons’ daughter and running into dead ends. Then one of his computers crashed. You’d think the world had spun off its axis. Is he always like that?”
“Always.” Rowan slipped the phone into his coat pocket as the waitress brought Renegade his coffee.
When she’d left, Walter cut into his steak again. “Too bad about the waitress,” he said, nodding over his shoulder. “Her name’s Holly. Sweet thing. Tough breaks. Colin did a good thing hiring her.” Walter cleared his throat and hailed the waitressback to their table. “My throat feels as though it’s on fire. Why is it taking so long to build a proper Guinness?” he said loosening the top buttons on his shirt. “I’m dying of thirst.”
Renegade leaned forward. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine. Nothing a drink won’t cure. You’re not the only ones been asking about the murders. The magical community is walking on eggshells and scared as shit. Received a few deaths threats myself, and I’m pretty sure I was followed. Couldn’t wait to get to The Inferno where I feel safe. No surprise you’re here about the murdered Wizards.”
Renegade nodded. “I overheard you say someone discovered a way to kill Wizards and make it look like a drug overdose.”
Walter cleared his throat, setting his fork down. “Yeah,” he said swallowing again. “The rumor is it’s a nasty poison that causes humans to hallucinate but can be fatal or do real damage to anyone with an ounce of magical blood.”
Holly set Walter’s Guinness on the table, with a shaky comment that she hoped this one was more to his liking. Walter gave her a jerky nod of thanks, then reached for it, spilling foaming beer down his shirt as he raised the mug to his mouth. He downed half of its contents in one gulp, then gasped and grabbed his throat.
Spiderweb-like veins spread over Walter’s face and hands, turning his skin an indigo blue. The condition of Walter’s skin matched the body at Gas Works Park.
“You’ve been poisoned!” Rowan shouted to the waitress, “Quick! We need a medic over here—now!”
Walter reached for Rowan’s arm and grasped it in a vise-like grip. “Too late for me…” His voice sounded pained, hoarse, as though he had a mouthful of razors.
Walter’s eyes bled, widened, then dulled as his head slammed down into his plate of food.
