“Too late,” Bryce said.
He hadn’t been able to stop her from sending a message via otter to Tharion twenty minutes ago, and sure as Hel hadn’t been able to stop her from heading for the river’s edge to wait.
Hunt gripped her arm, the dock mere steps away. “Bryce, the mer do not take kindly to being falsely accused—”
“Who said it’s false?”
“Tharion isn’t a drug dealer, and he sure as shit isn’t selling something as bad as synth seems to be.”
“He might know someone who is.” She shrugged out of his grasp. “We’ve been dicking around for long enough. I want answers. Now.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you want to get this over with? So you can have your sentence reduced?”
He did, but he said, “The synth probably has nothing to do with this. We shouldn’t—”
But she’d already reached the wood slats of the dock, not daring to look into the eddying water beneath. The Meat Market’s docks were notorious dumping grounds. And feeding troughs for aquatic scavengers.
Water splashed, and then a powerful male body was sitting on the end of the dock. “This part of the river is gross,” Tharion said by way of greeting.
Bryce didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything other than, “Who’s selling synth in the river?”
The grin vanished from Tharion’s face. Hunt began to object, but the mer said, “Not in, Legs.” He shook his head. “On the river.”
“So it’s true, then. It’s—it’s what? A healing drug that leaked from a lab? Who’s behind it?”
Hunt stepped up to her side. “Tharion—”
“Danika Fendyr,” Tharion said, his eyes soft. Like he knew who Danika had been to her. “The intel came in a day before her death. She was spotted doing a deal on a boat just past here.”
59
“What do you mean, Danika was selling it?”
Tharion shook his head. “I don’t know if she was selling it or buying it or what, but right before synth started appearing on the streets, she was spotted on an Auxiliary boat in the dead of night. There was a crate of synth on board.”
Hunt murmured, “It always comes back to Danika.”
Above the roaring in her head, Bryce said, “Maybe she was confiscating it.”
“Maybe,” Tharion admitted, then ran a hand through his auburn hair. “But that synth—it’s some bad shit, Bryce. If Danika was involved in it—”
“She wasn’t. She never would have done something like that.” Her heart was racing so fast she thought she’d puke. She turned to Hunt. “But it explains why there were traces of it on her clothes, if she had to confiscate it for the Aux.”
Hunt’s face was grim. “Maybe.”
She crossed her arms. “What is it, exactly?”
“It’s synthetic magic,” Tharion said, eyes darting between them. “It started off as an aid for healing, but someone apparently realized that in super-concentrated doses, it can give humans strength greater than most Vanir. For short bursts, but it’s potent. They’ve tried to make it for centuries, but it seemed impossible. Most people thought it was akin to alchemy—just as unlikely as turning something into gold. But apparently modern science made it work this time.” He angled his head. “Does this have to do with the demon you were hunting?”
“It’s a possibility,” Hunt said.
“I’ll let you know if I get any other reports,” Tharion said, and didn’t wait for a farewell before diving back into the water.
Bryce stared out at the river in the midday sun, gripping the white opal in her pocket.
“I know it wasn’t what you wanted to hear,” Hunt said cautiously beside her.
“Was she killed by whoever is creating the synth? If she was on that boat to seize their shipment?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Could the person selling the synth and the person searching for the Horn be the same, if the synth can possibly repair the Horn?”
He rubbed his chin. “I guess. But this could also be a dead end.”
She sighed. “I don’t get why she never mentioned it.”
“Maybe it wasn’t worth mentioning,” he suggested.
“Maybe,” she murmured. “Maybe.”
Bryce waited until Hunt hit the gym in her apartment building before she dialed Fury.
She didn’t know why she bothered. Fury hadn’t taken a call from her in months.