Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
“Get out of here,” the stall owner yelled, motioning the man away.
“Please, man. I need it!” The guy made a grab for the product but the stall attendee was on it, the club in his hand appearing quickly out of nowhere. He struck down, hitting the man grabbing for the product. Two large guys ran in from the side landing fists, then throwing the thin man to the ground before kicking him, making him crawl to the curb.
I flinched and backed away quickly, horrified by the violence. All this because the man couldn’t have a drug.
“What took you idiots so long?” the stall attendee barked.
“Sorry, boss.” The guys dragged the limp man away, taking him as far as the corner and dropping him next to the wall.
“Now, hello, sorry about that.” The stall attendee was all smiles, as though nothing had just happened. “How can I help you?”
I slowly approached the stall, looking over the options. “What is this?” I pointed to the Dream Time.
“Is this your first time trying Granny’s Delight?”
“Granny’s Delight?” I asked. “Is that the name of her business?”
He blinked rapidly for a moment, his smile forced. “Yes, of course. That, my dear, is a very fun hallucinogen. It’s guaranteed to keep you entertained for hours.”
“Entertained . . .” I reached out to grab it but the man caught my wrist, his smile sharp.
“You pay before you play.”
I matched the warning in his tone. “I need to examine the merchandise before I buy. Who knows what you’ve got wrapped up in this pretty little package.”
His grip tightened for a moment before he released my hand, leaning back a little. Holding his gaze for a moment longer, I resumed my reach and grabbed the product. A little sticker sealed the package, more of those wings, modeled after a fairy but stuck to a butterfly.
“Ridiculous,” I murmured, sticking my fingernail under the adhesive. “Has no one commented that these aren’t butterfly wings?”
“And why would they do that?”
I lifted the product. “Because it looks absurd.”
“People are more inclined to notice what is in the package, not on.”
“Apparently.”
In the package was a perfectly cut circle, colored bright fuschia, with the sides rounded as though compacted into that shape. A waxy sheen covered the surface.
“What is this?” I asked softly, scratching at the stuff on the outside and then breaking the item open to look into the middle.
Rough hands grabbed me, one large guy on each side.
“You’ll need to pay for that now, one way or the other,” the stall attendee threatened.
“I’ll take one of each and you will answer my questions,” I said, tension and anger coiling within me. “Get these idiots off and I’ll get you the coin.”
After the man was paid a hefty sum, I tore into the other packages right in front of him. All of them had that waxy coating, each a different color and most looking like candy. The interiors, though—those I recognized. There could be no doubt, I was making the product that these people were ingesting. It was my creation that provided the entertainment, as I’d planned, and whatever coated it must’ve created the issues people were facing, getting hooked, getting sick, not eating. Dying.
“Is this all the same?” I asked with shaking hands, scratching at the coating. “What is it?”
The man studied me closely, ignoring someone else coming to buy.
“My, my,” he said. “Aren’t you curious.”
I huffed out a laugh. “That sounds like an accusation. I’m putting something into my body and I want to know what it is. What’s this waxy stuff covering the product?”
His gaze turned predatory. “I don’t make the product, I just sell it. No one else seems to have a problem with it.”
I quirked an eyebrow, noticing the emphasis he put on product. I needed to back off. I was making a scene and I’d get noticed. But fuck it, this was bullshit. I never agreed to have my product altered. I wouldn’t have cared how many beatings I’d gotten or if they’d killed me, I would not have worked one more day if I’d known what my creations would become. It wasn’t worth the extra gold to create this kind of disparity.
I leaned in, my tone ice. “You know very well that there is a big fucking problem with it. Is this waxy stuff the same on all the products?”
“No idea and I don’t care. Take your product or don’t, but get the fuck out of here. I’m done with your questions.”
I knew my stare was hard, probably a little off kilter. I wanted to rip the bastard over this stall and beat him senseless, then take to his hired goons, currently standing at my sides. Maybe I would’ve, too, if I’d had my animal’s strength and speed.
Instead, I leaned back, grabbed Dream Time, and popped it into my mouth. I gathered the rest of the products and dumped it into my pack. If I wanted to understand how this stuff was altered, I’d have to experience it. Only then could I create something to combat it.