Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“Unless they already have, and unless this is also a waste of my damn time.”
I am out of patience. I set wing toward the brewery, leaving Cirrus and Garris to follow in my wake if it pleases them. The old part of the city is looming now, rougher buildings carved from the rock that surrounds the caldera in which the entire city sits. I land heavily, kicking up dust around my boots as I stride toward the weeping, glass-windowed doors of the brewery. This place represents the heritage of the city, but also plays home to the elements we have long tried to eliminate.
“Enforcer Avel!” A pleasant-looking female tank saurian with broad features and a red painted horn stands behind the old bar. She is wearing a puffy blouse which gives her even more breadth across her not inconsiderable shoulders. She seems surprised to see me, but not worried about me. The welcome is warm.
“To what do we owe the honor here at the old brewery?” She runs a rag over the bar and looks at me expectantly. There are rows of casks behind her, all containing fermented beverages which would produce a light buzz if consumed. I am not here to drink.
“I want to search the basement. Take me down there. Now.”
“Of course,” she says, not skipping a beat. “Right this way, Enforcer.”
Behind me, Cirrus and Garris have landed. Garris posts up outside the store. Cirrus follows me in. Their expressions indicate that they are not pleased to be part of this, but they are likewise not prepared to let me walk this territory alone. I know this is a test of their loyalty, and that it will likely cause some strife with the alpha when all this is done, but seeing them behind me fills me with a certain warmth. Not everything is in aid of the alpha alone.
A familiar scent meets me as soon as we go down the stairs. I smell Raine, and I smell contraband, and most disturbingly of all — I smell blood.
“What happened down here?” I ask the question sternly.
“I don’t rightly know!” She sounds as disturbed as I do.
A barrel is open to the air, its contents reeking out the cellar. I don’t need to taste it to know what it is. There is only one substance in Grave City that smells this way.
“This is illegal saurjuice.”
Saurjuice is a powerful psychedelic that has been linked to psychotic breaks, hence its outlawing in Grave City. Unlike other brewed beverages, it does not merely relax the user. It is capable of completely obliterating their sense of reality for a period of time, or in some cases, forever.
“I wouldn’t know, sir. I don’t brew. I mind the counter.”
She seems genuinely befuddled, but that could be an act.
The saurjuice is not the main source of my concern. What bothers me are the splatters of metallic-scented, now-dried liquid in various places. I know that smell. It is the smell of a human. Raine. She was here. And she was hurt. I feel such a surge of rage it somehow passes through me and turns into a state of deadly calm. I know what to do.
“CIRRUS!”
At my order, Cirrus comes flying down the stairs, skipping the stairs themselves and gliding on partly opened wings. He takes in the scene before him. The saurjuice stench, the befuddled barmaid, and the blood.
“Take this young lady in for questioning,” I order him. “She appears to have been swept up in a criminal operation.”
I suspect her as much as I suspect anybody, but by pretending I am taken in by her act of innocence, I perhaps lull her into a sense of false security.
“Would you accompany me, please, madam?” Cirrus is courteous and very handsome, and as a result the barmaid does not seem to mind going for a long stroll with him.
“Am I in trouble?”
“I need to ask you a great many questions to ascertain what you might know. You will likely find it long and intense, but I will take good care of you.”
The maid practically melts beneath his gaze. Cirrus is a good two feet taller than she is, and he has the kind of appeal to the female saurians that makes them very compliant. He extends an arm around her and curls a wing at the same time to usher her away. The maid seems very pleased with this turn of events.
“Send Garris down, please,” I say before he leaves.
Garris comes in a more sedate fashion. I point the same things out to him.
“See this? This is human blood. This is Raine’s blood. Are you still going to tell me she hasn’t been hurt?”
The only thing that gives me any kind of respite from rage is the fact that it is a relatively small amount of blood. It is not the amount I would expect if someone were to be consumed, for instance. She has been moved, but there is a chance she is still alive.