I shook my head, at a loss. Surely everyone knew what the product did and how dangerous it was, so they’d warn kids to stay away, but teenagers tended to do the opposite of what they were told. Not to mention the adults with poor decision-making skills, much like Mr. Poet, who sampled and got caught in the addictive snare. It didn’t make sense to leave it open like this.
I looked over the small crates stacked on top of each other, the site lacking the precision of the woman. Clearly someone else managed this storeroom. Each crate had a name scratched in the side, like “hallucinogen 1,” or “mild relaxant.” None were names I recognized. Granny must’ve changed those for market.
“Have we found the packaging area?” I asked, picking up an elixir in a little glass tube. A green dot was painted on the side. It matched the other tubes in the crate, the only thing to identify the individual contents. “This is all very... rudimentary.”
“We haven’t found anywhere where they might do packaging, no,” Nova said. “There’s nowhere nearly sophisticated enough. It must be done elsewhere.”
“The woman makes the goods and someone else gets them ready for market.” Dante pulled his lips to the sides. “We haven’t found all the players in this scheme.”
“The packaging people don’t matter.” I picked through another crate, then the next, seeing all the contents marked with a colored dot. “Cut out the root of the operation, and the whole thing will wither.”
“Still, it would be nice to bring them all in,” Nova said.
“The woman should know,” Dante said. “We just need to get it out of her.”
I couldn’t help stiffening, but didn’t comment. He was right. She’d know the ins and outs of the organization. They could force her to reveal Granny’s secrets.
I took a step back. “Start moving this out and talk to more of the village. Let’s see what else they know and what else might be of use to the dragon royalty. We’ll see who needs to come with us and stand in judgment and who should be left to pick up the pieces of their lives. It’s clear Granny forced this life on this village. They’ll be useless without the woman and happily so. But let’s reserve judgment until after we know what they have to say.”
“Yes, Alpha,” they said in unison.
“Nova,” I said before she got to work. “Do you know where the woman resides?”
“Yes, Alpha. I’ll show you?—“
“No.” I held out a hand. “Just give me directions. I want you to get all this squared away as quickly as possible. I can pick through her things just fine.”
She rattled off some directions and I was on my way, looking at the little cottages on the lane as I passed. They were in a state of disrepair, with a few visible patches making them habitable. All of them, without exception, were tiny.
I knew her cottage immediately, not because it was bigger than the others—it was not—or because it was newer or better in any way—it wasn’t. It was because of the care and attention she seemingly paid to every detail.
The quaint little dwelling sat nestled between two others, its rustic charm enveloping it like a warm embrace. Its walls were slightly weathered by time but washed clean and its window frames were freshly painted a pristine white to match the picket fence surrounding a patch of lush green grass. A few strugglingflowers added a pop of color; saffron yellow, periwinkle and teal hugged the walls and partially outlined some of the porch. It was clear she wasn’t any better at gardening than her counterparts. Even so, the dirt in which they grew was devoid of weeds and still moist, serving as proof she attempted their care as best she could.
I unlatched the gate and then swung it open as a neighbor peered out her doorway from the cottage on the right.
“What sort of a neighbor is this woman?” I asked, stopping in the middle of the walkway.
She pulled her sweater tighter around her as she stepped out gingerly, her face deeply lined with age.
She pursed her lips. “Quiet. She keeps to herself, as she should.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, because of her... affliction, you know.” She lifted her brow, the gravity of the situation evident.
“Her affliction?” I asked slowly.
“Didn’t you do your research before barging in here? She’s one of them duds. I thought everyone knew that. No magic. Not a lick. Now...” She squinted her eyes at me. “People say they’s contagious, but she hung around with that Wilkens boy for a good stint and he never caught nothing. No one else has gotten sick with it and lost their magic, neither. I reckon that it’s just a wives tale.”
Contagious? Fucking hell, these people were certainly living in the past.
In this kingdom a long time ago, it had been somewhat taboo to be without one’s animal. People feared that which was different, any situation they didn’t understand. Someone without access to their animal was automatically considered to be without magic, something that was actually incredibly rare.Those “afflicted” were often outcast and usually despised for no reason.
When I left this kingdom—when I was forcibly taken by the demons—there were still some superstitions and prejudices against those without access to their animal, but overall people had been better educated about the situation. In my experience, anyway. Clearly in the forgotten places like this, that outdated mentality was still prevalent.
Rage simmered low in my gut.
“What makes you think she has no magic?” I asked, wanting to be sure. “Because she can’t feel her animal?”
