today.” I straightened and adjusted my soggy top. “I take omeprazole.”
“Omeprazole isn’t a hazmat suit for your digestive tract.”
Flicking water at his face, I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Or is it?”
Writing me and my stomach lining off as a loss, he shook his head. “We hitting Greenleaf before or after?”
There was no question we had to investigate. “Before.”
We caught a Swyft to the Midtown club, but the street was quiet, and the entrance locked when we arrived. I mashed the buzzer, since it was a private party, but no one answered. I didn’t like it, any of it, especially how affected the wargs had been, but we couldn’t kick down the door without probable cause.
When no other options presented themselves, we left with the intent to return the following night and try our luck catching it open then.
After Bishop and I ate, which left me sweating in my chair at the outdoor table, we hit the streets for a few hours before I went home to Midas. How weird was it to think about him waiting on me? Weird, but nice. I could get used to it, and that terrified me. Happily, those ghost chilis were guaranteed to burn the fear right out of me, at least for a few hours. It was as good a place to start as any.
Three
The trauma of the previous night, and the cringeworthy memory of Deric Mendelsohn’s hairy butt cheeks shining like twin moons, if the moon was made of moldy cheese, had been dimmed somewhat by spending the remaining hours before dawn enjoying Their Eyes Are Always Watching while snuggled up to Midas on the futon with dinner in our laps and chopsticks in our hands.
I woke in much the same position, minus Midas, ready to face the night. As soon as I got my eyes open.
A musical ting prompted me to check my phone, and I groaned at being forced to move.
Fingers groping for my cell, I touched paper and pulled the scrap to me where I could squint at it better.
“Duty calls,” I read out loud, snuggling into his pillow. “See you at home.” I breathed him in. “Midas.”
Sadly, the phone didn’t see fit to stop ringing while I basked in the giddy thrill of receiving his note.
Clearly, it didn’t have the circuits of a romantic.
Unable to ignore the persistent racket, I palmed the blasted cell, read the growing string of urgent texts, then shot upright with a growl on my lips. “Do you believe this crap?”
Ambrose stretched and yawned, faking interest in my outburst, but I didn’t waste breath elaborating.
While I struggled into fresh clothes, I called Bishop with a clipped order. “Meet me out front.”
Odds were good he would beat me to the sidewalk. He was forever lurking outside the Faraday these days. Like he didn’t want me to be gruesomely murdered or something.
Sure enough, I exited the building, too busy to hassle Hank for a change, and aimed straight for Bishop, who waited for me at the curb.
“There’s a party spilling onto Crescent Avenue Northeast.” A cold knot cramped my gut as I summarized the rest of the text from Remy to him. “A new drug hit the streets tonight.” I watched his face as I told him the rest. “They’re calling it…Faete.”
Ambrose perked at the word Faete and slithered closer to hear the rest, his interest genuine this time. The defunct fae club where we found Bishop half dead after the witchborn fae coven finished torturing him had shared the same name.
I doubted it was a coincidence. More like a billboard-sized message.
Bishop locked down his emotions before a single one escaped. “Any idea where it originated?”
“Remy tracked it to Greenleaf.” I filled him in on what Gayle told me about the fancy invitation Mendelsohn received from an unknown sender and got a bad feeling he had been invited to enjoy a sneak peek at coming attractions. “With his reputation for partying, I bet his name topped the mailing list.”
Clubs in Midtown wooed high-profile paranormal clientele with promises of discount booze, new drugs, or sex to keep them coming back for more—and bringing their friends with them.
“But,” I had to admit, “given its lingering effect on Mendelsohn and his pack, he might have been targeted for the pre-release bash for more clinical reasons.”
“No drug currently on the market affects wargs for more than an hour, tops.” Bishop stared off into traffic. “Faete gave those wargs an unprecedented high, if that’s what did it.”