House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) by Sarah J. Maas

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.

The call nearly went to audiomail before she answered. “Hey.”

Bryce slumped against her bed and blurted, “I’m shocked you picked up.”

“You caught me between jobs.”

Or maybe Juniper had bitten Fury’s head off about bailing.

Bryce said, “I thought you were coming back to hunt down whoever was behind the Raven’s bombing.”

“I thought so, too, but it turned out I didn’t need to cross the Haldren to do it.”

Bryce leaned against her headboard, stretching out her legs. “So it really was the human rebellion behind it?” Maybe that C on the crates Ruhn thought was the Horn was just that: a letter.

“Yeah. Specifics and names are classified, though.”

Fury had said that to her so many times in the past that she’d lost count. “At least tell me if you found them?”

There was a good chance that Fury was sharpening her arsenal of weapons on the desk of whatever fancy hotel she was holed up in right now. “I said I was between jobs, didn’t I?”

“Congratulations?”

A soft laugh that still freaked Bryce the fuck out. “Sure.” Fury paused. “What’s up, B.”

As if that somehow erased two years of near-silence. “Did Danika ever mention synth to you?”

Bryce could have sworn something heavy and metallic clunked in the background. Fury said softly, “Who told you about synth?”

Bryce straightened. “I think it’s getting spread around here. I met a mer today who said Danika was seen on an Aux boat with a crate of it, right before she died.” She blew out a breath.

“It’s dangerous, Bryce. Really dangerous. Don’t fuck around with it.”

“I’m not.” Gods. “I haven’t touched any drugs in two years.” Then she added, unable to stop herself, “If you’d bothered to take my calls or visit, you would have known that.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Liar. Fucking liar and coward. Bryce ground out, “Look, I wanted to know if Danika had ever mentioned synth to you before she died, because she didn’t mention it to me.”