The woman from his case flashed before his eyes. Panicked. Erratic. And her husband…
“Right,” Cyrus said. “So that one is a dead end.”
“We had three more cases after that,” Teddy said. “And all three of those are still active.”
“Similar?” Cyrus asked.
“Enough to draw attention,” Saint said. “Rich families, members or close friends acting strangely. My diagnostics coming out positive when run on people, and then the families who called us in the first place clamming up and refusing to cooperate. Threatening us with inspections and reports if we kept digging.”
“This makes no fucking sense,” Cyrus said.
“It didn’t,” Saint agreed, “until the second to last case, where we found traces of an unknown substance in the cursed person’s room.”
“A drug?” Cyrus asked, and Wren noticed him perking up at that.
“We didn’t think so at first,” Teddy said. “But we had it tested, and it’s snake venom. That responds to curse diagnostics.”
“The fuck does that mean?” Cyrus asked.
Wren felt his blood boil. “It means they’re cursing the animal before taking the venom to make it do…whatever it is that it does! Vile, disgusting, repulsive people who care about money and nothing else.”
“I have to agree on that,” Saint said, and Wren wanted to bristle at that despite feeling thankful someone else saw the depravity of the action.
“Does that line up with cases you have here?” Teddy asked.
Cyrus looked at his files. “Not entirely. We have reports of a new type of drug being distributed and people acting off while on it, but so far we haven’t had any luck catching someone using or distributing it. The one person we caught in action pinged our attention because they turned destructive and violent and it closely resembled your last case at the country club.”
“Right,” Saint said. “Wren?”
He snapped his eyes up at being directly addressed by Saint. He didn’t know why but it rubbed him the wrong way.
“I just had one,” he said curtly. “I was called about a cursed raccoon ransacking their garden. The family that called is living a very middle-class life, driving beat-up cars and working regular jobs to make ends meet. No country clubs or influence of any kind.”
“So, unrelated,” Teddy said.
Wren clenched his fist in Sable’s fur, forcing himself to respond. They were adults. They’d each had a whole life between who they used to be and who they were now. He had to remember that. They weren’t Teddy and Little Bird anymore. “Not necessarily,” Wren said. “The raccoon was definitely cursed and doing some damage, but…hearing all of this, there are details that might match.”
“Like?” Cyrus asked.
“The woman who called me was very hostile, despite asking for my help. She was unwilling to let me inside her house, unwilling to go into any detail, and when I was leaving, her husband showed up.”
“Okay?” Saint said curiously.
“He seemed off but she was very adamant he was just fine and it was nothing to worry about,” Wren said. “Yanked him away almost before I could process the fact that he was even there.”
“Hiding,” Saint said. “Just like all the other cases.”
“And the syringe you found?” Cyrus asked. “You need to turn it in for testing.”
“I had my team at the sanctuary test it. It’s cone snail venom,” Wren said. “Cursed.”
“A snail,” Cyrus repeated.
“Yup.” Wren stood up. “A snail.”
“I fucking swear this town will send me to an early grave,” Cyrus whispered. “A fucking snail.”
“I think we need to put a timeline up and see what it looks like,” Teddy said, standing up as well. Wren followed hisevery move like a man starved, noting the similarities and the differences from the boy who used to be his. It slashed his heart near in half to see that there were far more differences.
