by Luna Quinn
It was an intimate vulnerability that she’d never allowed herself before.
They rode up in silence to the second floor of the club. Once the elevator doors opened, the loud, pulsing beat of the club’s normal atmosphere was missing. The club was silent, except for a few noises here and there of people moving around. Razor released her, and she stepped out.
She nearly tripped over her own feet in shock, pausing to lean over the railing and look down at the main floor of the club. It must have been around eight thirty in the morning, a time Sasha had never seen before in the Night House. All the lights were on, the harsh whiteness flooding out all of the shadows and colors she was accustomed to, and there were several employees cleaning up. It was all weird.
She moved forward again, her pace picking up as she followed Razor to Night’s office.
Night was right where she imagined he’d be, lounging in his chair with his feet propped up against his desk. He looked exhausted, already—or still—nursing a glass of whiskey, the bottle nearly empty next to him.
Sasha had seen many of Night’s faces, and it was clear that the exhaustion he wore now wasn’t the effect of a bout of marathon sex. No, he looked plain tired, and seeing him without the trademark sparkle in his eyes was just as unsettling as the rest of the club in daytime.
Their little impromptu meeting didn’t last long. Night merely lifted an eyebrow when they entered, then heard them out when they voiced their suspicions based on their recent investigation and findings. So far, it looked like everything was circling back to these mysterious drugs and the Vampire-Shifter hybrids they somehow created.
“While Razor is looking into them, continuing to ask around on the street,” she told Night. “I’m going to focus on finding Castor. He was supposed to be protecting Hailie, the girl we found tonight, and no matter what, her death is on his hands. She was acting very skittish the other day when I bumped into her. I know she was scared of something, and she told me that she wasn’t supposed to be talking to me. I should have asked her more questions…” Sasha stopped herself with a shake of her head. What-ifs would get them nowhere. “If Castor isn’t connected, then something bad has happened to him, too. We just need to find him, one way or the other. If we can clear him, he might be useful.”
She felt more than saw Razor’s upper lip rise in disgust at the mere suggestion. Okay, so she hadn’t exactly discussed that idea with him beforehand. But she’d be damned if something as silly as jealousy would keep them from getting much needed help to solve their problem.
Night polished off another glass of whiskey. “Stop that, Razor.” He nodded to Sasha. “I agree. Do you know where he is?”
Sasha shrugged. “If he isn’t hiding or dead, then he should be in his usual haunts. There’s one place I know he favors. I’ll hit it up tonight.”
“Fuckers.” Night bared his fangs, more in irritation than anger. “It pisses me off, not knowing of all the nefarious shit going on in my town.”
She felt Razor’s concerned gaze on her, and she turned to face him. Instead of addressing the question in his eyes, she just smiled at him. She knew the warmth of the gesture didn’t quite reach her eyes, but she tried. He really wasn’t going to like what she was going to say next.
She took a deep breath. “I know what you’re going to say, but I have to do this alone. If I bring backup, or worse, a damn Hellhound, they’ll become suspicious. Me going into these places won’t seem unusual. I’ve worked very hard to seem neutral.”
He swallowed and finally nodded.
She made sure he could read the sincerity on her face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch. You will be the first one to know what I find. I promise.”
Sasha left the Night House as quickly as she could, starting to get a bit creeped out by the unnatural state of the club. Everything was so still and quiet. She shuddered.
Stepping through her Reaper portal, she disappeared from the Night House, appearing less than a second later in front of an archway made up of twisted concrete and rebar. The structure served as the unofficial-official entrance to the abandoned district in Sector Three. None of the Sector she called home was very nice, but this place made her neighborhood look posh.
Technically, the abandoned district was out of bounds for everyone. It was illegal to live inside, as it was deemed too dangerous and unstable. A huge fault line ran through the area, something that had only been discovered after a catastrophic earthquake a hundred years ago. Sasha remembered it well. She, Archer, and Locke had all been elbow deep in souls, collecting nonstop for days. Anyone who had survived was relocated, and the area hadn’t even been cleaned up.
It looked it, too. As she walked in and through the town, she had to mind her steps. It was almost as if it were frozen in time. The buildings were all in various states of disaster, the passing time doing no favors to the decay. Plants took over the manmade materials, making the horror of such a wide-scale disaster look somehow beautiful. The streets were all broken at different angles, with some sections of pavement falling away and revealing holes that went who knew how far down. Cars were upturned, long overgrown with weeds.
The echoes of the deaths were still present throughout the place, which made her involuntarily shiver as goose bumps traveled up her arms.
She’d actually checked the place out a few nights ago to make sure her suspicions were correct. That night, she’d climbed into one of the more stable houses facing the old school and sat in the shadows with her binoculars. She’d done nothing but watch what she could, tracking the people in and out of the one active building in the town. The recon had been important for two reasons. First, she wanted to make sure she wasn’t walking into any traps or a situation she didn’t know most of the variables to. Second, she needed to be confident this was the likeliest location for the drugs. Of all the gang hangouts, this was where she was most sure she would find Castor.
Now, she walked up the steps to the front door of the old school, confident, her head held high. She knew most of the people who came here on a level that only came from being so involved with the street world. She didn’t anticipate any problems.
The glass in the two front doors had long ago shattered, so she stepped over the bottom of the door and strolled right on in. Everything inside was crumbling as much as the outside, and she followed the makeshift ramp the tile floor had made when it had fallen in. It led to the large basement, which was the length of the entire school. At first glance, she knew that this was indeed the new location of operation for Maverick and his best drugs.
As she left the brightness of the morning and went underground, everything was dark and dank. Fluorescent lights illuminated the main distribution floor in the distance.
“Whoa, there.” A voice stopped her before she could get any closer.
Two beefy Vampires stood with their arms crossed, blocking her path. They both wore thick red bands on their left wrists—they were a part of Castor’s gang.
Instead of being worried, though, Sasha flashed a wide smile. “Nice seeing you two again.” She recognized both of them from her various dealings with Castor over the years.
One of the Vampires lost some of his uptight posture and turned to the side. Neither of them smiled, but they were as friendly as they got. “Welcome, Sasha.”
Sasha nodded, stepping closer, but not past them yet. “Hey, have you seen Castor around? I found something of his.”
The other Vamp shook his head. “Not today.”
“Was he here recently?” Even asked in her most innocent voice, both Vampires were working on their statue impressions. She sighed, finally walking past them and into the main drug supply area.
Technically, only the top drug dealers under Maverick were permitted access inside to get their product, then they divvied it out to the lesser dealers under them. But Sasha was allowed here, whether or not she had gotten permission. Anyone who was anyone in this world owed her at least one favor in one way or another.
Hea
ding towards what she guessed would be Maverick’s private room—which was more of a big supply closet—there was a ripple in the air that felt…off.
She kept her steps measured and calm before knocking on the door. “Hey, Mav, it’s me, Sasha. Just swinging by like I said yesterday.” She was pretty sure she sounded as calm as usual. Maverick wasn’t someone she liked to be around unless absolutely necessary. She mentally braced herself for a truly unpleasant conversation.
The door swung open, revealing not the pockmarked, round face of Maverick, but the unfamiliar face of a Zimma Demon. It looked female, with a slim and long body. Her oily blue-black skin glinted in the harsh fluorescent lights, her yellow teeth bared in a wide smile. She wore a long robe-like garment that ended at her calves.
Putrid, muggy air slammed in Sasha’s lungs like a brick wall, and she was filled with the urgent need to get the fuck away. Instinctively, she took a step back. Not out of fear, but from distaste.
Without a doubt, she knew what she was feeling was the climate of the Pit. She’d been to the Underworld many times in her life. It was a place like any other, with different areas and all sorts of different people and creatures. And for the most part, it was a pleasant place. But in the center of the Underworld, deep down like it had sunk from its own decay, was the Pit.
It was a whole other beast.
While the Underworld was just another plane where people lived, the Pit that festered below the Underworld was everything people feared it to be. It was vile, filled with the worst kinds of creatures whose sole job it was to torture souls. Erummon had carved the place out for himself, and it was he who had spread all the stories about the Pit to make even Demons scurry in fear.
It made Sasha pause and wonder at how horrible it must have been to be born and raised in the Pit, like the Hellhounds were. Sympathy ran through her before she realized the Demon in front of her was speaking to her.
“What do we have here? A Reaper?” The Zimma’s voice was just as oily as her skin. She followed Sasha’s step, moving forward and closing the door behind her. The oppressive heat lingered.
Blue horns flared out from the Demon’s temples, curling and twisting much like a ram’s horns. Their length, along with her coloring and the white swirls on her flicking tail, marked her as a high-ranking Zimma Demon.
Before the Hellhounds had taken over Shadow Realm, Zimma Demons had swarmed the territory freely as the most trusted minions of the Snake Queen. They were probably the one species with the most hate for the Hellhounds, since the brothers had been responsible for ending their freedom on Earth and sentencing them back to the prison that was the Pit.
She hadn’t heard of any of their kind living in Shadow Realm for as long as she’d lived there. Which meant this Demon’s presence was more than a little significant.
Sasha put her hands on her hips, lifting her chin. “Zimma.”
The Demon laughed, the sound somehow vain on its own. “Please, call me Valtu. I’ve heard so much about you.”
That worried Sasha. Sasha cocked her head, realizing how carefully she had to play this. She didn’t know what this Demon’s story was, but no matter what their deal was, a Zimma Demon was not someone she wanted to piss off or tip off right now. “From Maverick?”
If this Demon was here, the only place Sasha knew where Maverick was distributing heroin, could this be the Demon behind the black-magic-tainted drug? If so, Sasha just had to figure out who held the leash on this Demon.
“Him, and others,” Valtu dismissed with a flick of her tail.
Sasha made a noncommittal sound. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“Oh, so does that mean you’re not buddy-buddy with one of the disgusting mutts?” Her lip curled in disgust, and it was clear she meant Razor.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Had Valtu heard this through the rumors Sael had mentioned were swirling around Shadow Realm? Because the only other way the Demon could know was through Castor, who had made it pretty clear he had caught onto her physical relationship with Razor during their meeting. “Believe me, we can’t stand each other. I have to temporarily work with him on Shadow Realm business, but as soon as that’s done, I don’t want anything to do with him.” The lie was incredibly difficult to get past her lips. But if she wanted to walk out of this place alive, Valtu had to believe that she at least didn’t like the Hellhounds, and could therefore be swayed to the Demon’s side. Whatever side that was. She lifted her hands in a universal show of innocence. “I’m a Reaper. Neutral party, just doing my job to clean up messes. This isn’t my fight. The real question is, what are you doing here? Which sorry sap summoned you to this broken-down place and has you running their errands for them?”
Valtu’s head tilted back and laughter pealed from her mouth in a boisterous wave. “Now that is a great joke. I had no idea Reapers were funny. Stupid and weak, yes, but not funny. Learn something new every day.”
Sasha blinked at the Demon while her stomach clenched in apprehension.
When Sasha failed to laugh with her and she spotted her blank look, Valtu snapped her fingers practically in Sasha’s face. Then the air around them heated several degrees, apparently along with the Demon’s sudden anger, Valtu’s blue eyes lighting up. “You think someone as powerful as me would deign to be jerked around on a chain? You’re fucking pathetic and clueless.”
Well, shit. The Hellhounds were not going to be happy about this information. If Sasha actually made it back alive to tell them.
Valtu took a step closer to her, crowding Sasha’s personal space with her stench. She reflexively took another step back, freezing when her back pressed against the wall. She gritted her teeth. Dammit.
Valtu seemed to be enjoying their positions. She ran a claw down Sasha’s left cheek, but Sasha didn’t even flinch when the Demon’s nail sliced through skin. Keeping their gazes locked, she didn’t dare show any signs of backing down, either. It was pissing Sasha off that she couldn’t fight back. Not because Sasha didn’t think she’d at least get a few good hits in before Valtu killed her, but because Valtu was making it difficult to know if Sasha’s cover had indeed been blown. Was this all some sort of test? Was Valtu only fucking with her as she would any lackey of Maverick’s? If Sasha defended herself, Valtu would undoubtedly suspect Sasha wasn’t neutral. But letting this bitch touch her and not at least getting one good punch in was getting harder the longer the Demon tried to intimidate her. Sasha might die immediately after, but at least she’d leave this asshole with some bruises to remember her by.
“I’m here for myself, Reaper,” Valtu said, sneering. “No one summoned me. I follow no one’s orders but my own. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my way.”
Sasha’s eyes flashed. A challenge like that made her itch to fight. Her fists clenched at her sides, but she took a measured breath, inclining her head. She reminded herself yet again that she had to stay cool. The most important thing was getting back to Razor and the others to tell them that their shit sandwich had just gotten a whole lot messier.
Sasha forced a smile to her lips that hopefully looked much more nonchalant than she felt. “Message received. I’m on the sidelines only.”
Valtu’s eyes narrowed, calculating. She wasn’t a mindless Demon. More bad news for them. “Sidelines only. Another joke? Why are you here, then?”
Sasha gestured casually over to the stacks of boxes, thinking on her feet and lying smoothly. “I live in Sector Three. These streets are mine. I serve my people. That new heroin is the most popular drug on my streets these days, and I’ve been helping Mav move the product to reach more people.”
Valtu stared at her, measuring her words, then stepped back. “Your services are no longer required. I can get my product out without your assistance.”
My product. Well, at least she’d just confirmed that the heroin was the Demon’s doing. If only they could test this heroin for black magic…
Sasha gave an exaggerated bow. “Then I’ll take my lea
ve.” Giving Valtu a fingerwave that anyone who knew her would recognize as sarcastic, she turned around. Boxes of heroin were right there, and the opportunity was perfect. Grabbing a baggie from the closest open box was a little too obvious, so as she hurried out, she intentionally stumbled over her own foot. She caught herself on the box, using the move to distract as she snatched a baggie and skillfully pushed it up her sleeve as she straightened. Then without looking back, she left the old school.
Once she was out of the abandoned district and she’d walked enough blocks to ensure no one was following her, she blew out a relieved breath and took the baggie out of her sleeve to study it. Inside was a fine, white powder, and the outside had been stamped with Nightlife in purple ink. It matched both Hailie’s description and the baggie Razor had snatched from the Vamp-Shifter he’d fought. She sighed, slipping the baggie into a pocket.
With that taken care of, she quickly texted Razor.
Found possible cause behind tainted drugs. Where are you so I can tell you more?
She was so used to his instant replies that several minutes later, when she still didn’t have a response, a pit of worry uncurled in her gut. Was he okay?
Logically, she knew that was stupid. Razor had been enforcing Shadow Realm for centuries. She’d never been concerned about him before, and he was more than capable of holding his own against anything crossing his path. But the idea of losing him now, just when she’d told herself it was okay to open up to him a little… She shook the thoughts away, forcing her body to relax.