Blood Heir (Aurelia Ryder, #1)(84)

“Okay,” he gasped. “There is a woman. I don’t know her name. She’s fucking choosy. She doesn’t just sell everything, only high-priced shit.”

“How do I find her?”

“You go to 15th street, just on the edge of Unicorn Lane. There is a pirogi shop there.”

Yes, and their mushroom pirogi were to die for. Small world.

“You leave your number with the stall owner. If the broker’s interested, she’ll call you.”

He was sliding his chair to his left, ever so slowly. The only thing within reach was the bookcase filled with his trophies.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. The shop owner doesn’t know anything. He just keeps the number in a bucket on the side and eventually it disappears.”

I blinked at the bookcase. Inert junk, more junk. On the fourth shelf, a small adder stone, about the size of my fist with a two-inch hole in its center, emitted a dense yellow knot. Animal magic. Got you.

Rudolph kept talking and sliding. “I tried to find the broker before when she wouldn’t take one of my jobs. I had her followed before and she just disappears. She’s there and then she’s not. Nobody can find her. I leaned on the shop owner and got nowhere.”

He was almost close enough.

“She didn’t like that. She hasn’t touched my shit since.”

Rudolph lunged for the adder stone. I dropped the crossbow bolt, grabbed the gladius, and drove it into his right side, just as he turned, reaching for the stone. The blade slid between his third and fourth rib and into his liver.

Rudolph collapsed into his chair. Dark blood drenched his side. He let out a long hoarse breath.

“It’s over,” I told him quietly. “A kindness you don’t deserve. I’d come here to kill you and planned to take my time, but you brought the shapeshifter in, so now it has to be quick.”

“Why are doing this? Why me?”

“You hired Jasper.”

“So what?”

“He was looking for the child that witnessed Pastor Haywood leaving with Billiot’s people and couldn’t find her. Instead he found a boy named Douglas. He beat him. He put him on a chain. He dragged him through the city. Today Douglas had a stroke. The medmages are working on him now.”

“What boy? Was he your brother? Is that why…?”

“Just a street boy. I didn’t know him well.”

“For a homeless kid? All this for a homeless kid?”

I slid off the desk and leaned forward, so my eyes were even with his. “He was a beggar without a family. Half-starved and alone. He had so little, and you took it away from him. Now I took everything from you.”

“I’m worth more…”

I turned, took the adder stone off the shelf, and slipped it into my pocket.

“Did you hear me?” His voice trailed off, weak, sliding into a whisper. “I’m worth more…”

I walked to the shapeshifter. She lay on the floor facedown. I flipped her over. A mottled grey patina climbed up her neck. She had minutes. Fuck.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

“Didn’t matter,” she breathed. “I was dead already.”

Damn it.

I heaved her onto my back and ran to the front door, grabbing Dakkan on the way. She was trembling like a leaf. Lyc-V generated a lot of heat. Her body should’ve been burning up, but it was cold and clammy. The virus was losing the battle.

“Where is the closest safe house? Is it still on Durham Street?”

“Too far.” She clutched my arm with her hand. There was no strength in her fingers. “Just take me out of here. Don’t want to die in this shithole.”

I reached the front door and almost collided with Derek. He saw the shapeshifter on my shoulders.

“Put her down.”

There was an unmistakable authority in his voice. I dropped my spear and swung the girl to the floor.

Derek knelt by her and looked into her eyes. “Look at me.”

She did. Her tremors stopped. Suddenly she was completely focused on him.

Derek pulled out a knife. “I’m going to flood your lungs with blood. It will pick up the dust. You’ll need to push it out.”

All of the Pack’s shapeshifters went through silver-extraction training. Their flesh shrank from it, and it required a great effort of will to force it out of their bodies. But that training was designed for bullets and arrowheads, not silver dust.

“It will hurt,” Derek said. “It will be hard to breathe. Listen to my voice. Look at me. Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not,” she squeezed out.

“Good.” He split her shirt down the middle and stabbed between her ribs, once, twice, a third time. Oh gods. She shuddered, but her gaze never left his face. Five, six.

“You’re going to kill her.”

He ignored me. “Push,” he ordered.

The girl strained. Black blood oozed from the wounds in her chest. Convulsions gripped her.

“Hold her down,” he told me.

I pinned her shoulders to the floor.

“Push.” His voice turned deep, commanding, as if woven from pure magic. There was something primal about it, not primitive but ancient. It caught the girl like a lasso and anchored her to life. He ordered her to live, and she obeyed.