Bonnie Diaz, aka Snowball, aka Iliana hadn’t raised any red flags for him, but he had known Krista. It might be as simple as that.
“Black magic.” Bishop grimaced. “They had worked a spell, perhaps the one to take Krista’s body, within hours of you confronting her. That’s what he smelled. She was still…” he worked his jaw, “…fresh.”
Annnd that’s what I got wishing for simple.
“Goddess.” I rubbed my forehead, but the headache kept tap-dancing a single buffalo on my brain.
“The folks zoned out on the street?” He sent a picture from his phone to the screen for us all. “Mostly vampires who fed on humans who took the drug. The humans themselves appeared to be unaffected.” He leaned back. “Fae appear unaffected as well.”
“Any news on how the Mendelsohns are doing?”
“They were sedated as of the last update,” Reece informed us. “Three females attacked the medics who separated them from their alpha.” His distaste was clear when he finished his report. “Four more turned on each other when Mendelsohn fell asleep after servicing everyone but them.”
“I would joke about him having inhuman stamina,” Milo said, “but it’s only funny because it’s true.”
The side quest Midas and I had volunteered for, collecting the hearts, had been withheld from the team for now, but Bishop’s sharp focus on me warned we would have a long chat once this meeting ended.
One final item headed up my briefing to-do list, but Bishop must have read it on my face.
“Reece,” he said, cutting me off before I got started, “keep us updated.”
“I will,” he mumbled, already distracted. “We’ll have access to the initial test results from the first round of warg blood work within the next six to eight hours.”
“Let’s tie a knot in it here then.” Bishop saluted the team. “Make no apologies.”
“Survive,” we all echoed, and the screens went dark.
Bishop gave the silence a moment to settle, and then he appraised me. “Ready to go get our girl?”
“Born ready.” I scuffed the toe of my sneaker. “Why didn’t you tell them about Blithe?”
“She’s the dealer, not the source.” He crammed the last donut into his mouth. “She’s one anthill you don’t want to stomp until you’re ready to hose it in gasoline and drop a match on it.”
An involuntary shiver prickled down my arms, but I had to admit the gas and match thing sounded good.
“That doesn’t give her a free pass, Bish.”
Dealing was as bad as manufacturing. Worse, maybe, since they were the ones facilitating the buys.
“You sound like him when you talk like that.” He chuckled as he stood. “Linus would be proud.”
A zing of pleasure that he thought so sang through my chest. “You’re bribing me into a good mood.”
First the donuts and now the seal of approval from the boss by proxy.
“I should have handled last night better, but I didn’t realize Blithe was in town. She’s owned that club for a decade or two and never stepped foot in it as far as I know. She’s been content to remain on the outskirts. Someone has offered her a bigger piece of the pie, and she’s hungry for it.”
“The coven has too many irons in the fire.” I rubbed my forehead. “Their attack is so scattered.”
The release of the drug struck me as scattershot too. Everyone had been targeted, not just the gwyllgi.
“Maybe not.” He led the way out into the parking deck du jour. “The drug might have been the goal the whole time. The Martian Roaches can only infect so many people, and we’re onto them. They function the same as the coven, albeit as expendable henchmen, so their existence never made sense to me. Why invest the time and expense in creating something so similar to themselves? But get a dozen of the roaches mature enough to drool into vials, and you’ve got yourself a bottomless supply of a weaponized drug.”
“They really hate gwyllgi.” I called us a Swyft to the Faraday. “There’s got to be more to it than this.”
“There always is,” he said solemnly. “No matter how good you are, there’s always something you miss.”
What a pleasant thought to start our night. Talk about your high notes. A great pep-talker was Bishop.
Once, Abbott had lamented to me the infirmary in the building’s subbasement was as pristine as the day construction ended. Thanks to the coven kicking our butts on the regular, he didn’t have that problem these days. I, for instance, might as well move a few personal items into a room as much time as I spent there.
When he wasn’t patching boo-boos, he was developing a test to determine whether packmates who had fallen under suspicion of coven tampering had been killed for their identity or used as a host for Martian Roaches. I wasn’t sure if he was leaning more toward the magical or scientific approach, but I had put in a call to an authority on both to give him a hand.
Doughty was a witch by birth and a forensic analyst by trade. He was brilliant, and he was expensive, but if ever we needed those two disciplines married, it was now. We had to identify any coven members who had infiltrated our ranks and capture them. We had to isolate anyone infected by Martian Roaches and pray Abbott worked out a cure and fast. And, for extra fun, now we required an antidote for Faete.
Abbott was good, but he couldn’t do it all alone, and not on a timeline that would save the teens already in distress. I had loaned him Reece, but we needed results yesterday, and I was more than happy to pay to get them.
Hank stood watch at the door, and I swear I heard him groan when he spotted me.
“Hiya, friend.” I skipped up to him. “Did you miss me?”
A long exhale parted his lips. “You were gone?”
“Hadley, stop harassing the man.” Bishop gave me a shove toward the lobby.
