I winked at him. “I like it. I’ll get you back for it one day, though.”
“Get me back?” he said, his bearded face going pale.
I shook my head. “I meanrepay, Toby, for fuck’s sake.”
His shoulders slumped as he relaxed. “Oh. Gotcha. Okay.”
I hurried out and back down the alley, passing a group of curious denizens who’d come to gawk at the rapidly decomposing bodies of the dead ghouls. I barely spared them a glance. Following the arrow’s direction, I moved to the nearest exit of The Shadow Streets, coming out in one of the Red Line subway station bathrooms. The wall behind a toilet stall created a doorway, and I stepped out, doing my best to sidestep a puddle of piss on the floor.
On the street level, I took the compass out and followed it to the destination. People hurried past me, coats buttoned against the cold, heads down as flurries washed through the air. I gave no heed to the frigid temperature. My sole focus was findingPercival. Sure enough, the compass appeared to be leading me to The Pit, a magical location that very few visited on purpose. The den of drugs and vices made the brothels on The Shadow Streets look like Disney World.
Deep in a dark and somewhat industrial part of the city, I found what I was looking for, the compass going from yellow to red as I approached the old factory. As I drew near, an almost overpowering sense of dread filled me. Cold sweat popped out on my skin, and a voice at the back of my mind screamed at me to turn and run. Had I not understood that it was a repelling spell, I’d have done it. Even so, I had to push away all my instincts and keep walking.
Five feet from the door, teeth gritted against the fear that threatened to overwhelm me, a faintpopsounded in my ears, and it all melted away as I passed through the magical barrier. Once through, the actual image of the building was revealed. Instead of a three-story factory with busted windows, a sleek one-story building, painted a perfect dark black, stood before me. The mortar between stones glowed a dull red, like spiderwebs of lava crisscrossing the building. In the windows, simulated fire crackled. As the enchanted flames on the sign above the door proclaimed, this was The Pit.
I walked straight toward the front door. A short line of customers were ready to go inside, all with the strung-out looks of addicts, butthiswasn’t the usual drug den of humans. The mind-altering chemicals and potions of the paranormal world were nothing like the opioids of humans, though they were equally life-ruining. Black Blood, for vampires. Shifter’s Shackle, for shifters. Sludge, Fantom, Broken Dust, The Gasm, among others. Some injected, some snorted or smoked, others were made into enchanted clouds that encircled you and absorbedinto your skin, each with equally powerful highs and horrible side effects.
“Hey, my man,” the man at the door said. From the look of him, he was probably a witch. He then pointed to the line. “Get to the back. We don’t have a VIP list, so don’t even try that shit.”
Ignoring him, I strode toward the door.
“Listen, motherfucker,” the other doorman said. This one was a massive bear shifter, who’d done the difficult job of half-shifting, leaving him looking like the bear version of a minotaur. “Get to the back of the line, unless you want to have a problem.”
I stepped toward the witch. Before he could react or cast a spell, I kicked him in the chest. The responding crackle of breaking ribs greeted my strike. These men were accomplices in ruining lives, and I didn’t give one fuck how badly I hurt them.
The bear shifter let out an earsplitting roar as the people in the line cried out and scattered. A huge bear paw swung through the air. I leaned back, and the claws missed my face by inches, then stepped in close and jabbed my thumb into his eye. He cried out again and pawed at his face. While he was distracted, I kicked him between his legs. The cries ceased instantly as he grunted in pain, moving his claws from his face down between his legs. The injured eye was red and bloodshot, but he still managed to peel his lips back and growl at me even in his agony.
Pulling my pistol out, I aimed it at his head.
“Silver,” I said. “You want to live? Or you want to die? Your choice.”
The growl died on his lips, and he shook his head, looking both broken and defeated. He fell to his knees, fully shifting backto his human form, then collapsed on the ground, holding his busted balls.
“Good boy,” I said, and slipped the gun back under my jacket and stepped into the club.
The inside was not at all what you’d expect from the exterior. There weren’t huge clusters of people jumping around and dancing, no groups flirting and talking by the bar. The building shook with thumping electronic music, blasting from human tech speakers or magic—I couldn’t tell which. Floating orbs drifted along the high ceilings, casting down black light that gave everything a surreal tint. Huge cushions lay all along the walls and scattered throughout the center, with people lounging on them in various states of drug-induced stupors.
A witch lay with two vampires resting on his stomach and chest. Their eyes were closed, and they were moaning in orgasmic bliss. In the far corner, a huge group of shifters twitched and thrashed on the floor, some crying out, others actually barking like dogs or hyenas, while still others scratched and clawed at their own skin.
I checked the compass once more. The arrow was red and blinking, pointing toward a door at the back. Stepping over a group of twisting and groaning fae, I headed toward the door.
I didn’t bother trying the knob. I kicked the door in, sending wood splinters flying. The music and dull rumble of the drug-addled customers made the sound barely audible. Inside, a group of men and women sat around tables, weighing and measuring the different drugs they sold here. A guy with shining orange eyes looked up, casting a vague orange glow anywhere he looked. When he spotted me, those eerie eyes went wide in surprise, and he cried out in something that may have beenMandarin or possibly Fae Gaelic—it was too loud for me to be sure. He grabbed a weapon with a twisted blade from the table beside him and rose, cocking his arm back to throw it at me.
I drew down on him and fired without hesitation, catching him in one of his eyes. A burst of pulsing, orange light shot out, then it went dark as he tumbled back, hitting the ground. The rest of them froze, looking from their dead friend to me and my smoking gun.
“Next one who wants trouble can fucking have it,” I snarled. When none of them answered or moved, I said, “Where the fuck is Percival Tacitus?”
“PT?” a woman said, looking relieved I wasn’t there for her. “He’s right there.” She pointed a shaking finger toward a large couch at the back of the room.
Glancing over, I found two men and two women, all of them sprawled across each other, all of them naked. From the bite and claw marks all over their bodies, I couldn’t help but think they’d had a drug-induced orgy before I arrived. Now they were all passed out.
“Which one?” I growled, baring my teeth at the woman who’d pointed. “And don’t fucking lie to me. You pricks sell death. I won’t shed a tear if I have to shoot every damn one of you.”
“The blond one,” she yelped, pointing to the youngest one. “He’s a regular.”
True.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said. “Of course he is.”
