26. Aurelia
Chapter 26
“Hey!”
Something hard slammed into my ribs.
I jumped up before I’d realized what was happening, grabbing a boy by the neck and twisting him until he was bent backwards in an uncomfortable headlock. His arms flailed and his boots—probably what had just hit my ribs—scrambled for purchase.
Horses grunted as they shifted below and hay scratched at my neck and was probably sticking out of my hair.
“Sorry.” I let him go and then dusted him off.
He slapped my hands away, staggering backward and falling into a pile of hay.
I’d slept in the hay loft of the inn stables last night, the one with the horse-fish on the sign, intending to get up near dawn and inquire about a room. Instead, I’d clearly slept a bit later than intended and been found out. Whoops. Such were the hazards of traveling at night.
“Sorry,” I repeated. “I just laid down, waiting for a respectable time.” I held out my hands to show I meant no harm and bent slowly to reach for my lantern and pack, both of which had been laying at my side. “I meant to be gone by now. I’ll just go check in.”
“They had rooms last night,” the boy said, cross now that he knew I wasn’t going to continue hurting him. He pushed up to standing. “You should’ve just gone and slept there. We don’t allow people to sleep in here.”
“Definitely. Totally. I get that. It’s just... kind of odd for a woman to wander in in the middle of the night, you know? I didn’t want them to refuse me thinking I was some sort of, I don’t know, bad news or something.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not around here. We get women coming in here all the time, trying to sneak their snacks or waiting for their misters to sleep it off so that he don’t raise the fists.” He took in my clothes and scanned my face. “Which are you? You’ve got no bruises but you have all your teeth. New to the snack box, I’d reckon, right? Which one has you on the hook?”
“No, no, it’s not that, not at all. I’m just passing through.”
He huffed, his grin knowing. “We got plenty of them, too. I swear, we might as well claim heavy tourism for how many people come through looking to buy.” He shook his head. “Excuse me to say it, ma’am, but you should try to resist until the urge goes away. You’re still pretty. The hunger will come back if you can just resist that hook for a while. That lantern is real nice. I’m sure you’d get a good price for it. Use that to buy the dragon elixir that kills the hook. I reckon you’d be able to buy enough to get you off. Then stay off, you hear what I’m telling you? I live around it. I see it all the time. All roads lead to a bad ending on that stuff.”
“Wait.” I shook my head, my palm held up gesturing for him to give me a second. This was all new lingo, and I needed a few breaths to organize my thoughts. “When you talk about the snack boxes, do you mean Granny’s, or just... you know, in general?”
“Yeah, Granny’s. None of ‘em hook you like hers. Someone should’ve said that. It’s the best around, I heard, but it comes at a steep price. If you get a bad dose, it’ll kill you.”
“There are no bad doses at market,” I said without thinking.
The knowing glint in his eyes dimmed, a little bit of sadness seeping in. “Trust me, I’ve seen it. It’s bad stuff. They shouldn’t allow it. The mayor is getting a little action from it, though, so...” He shrugged. “You know how that goes. The people in charge don’t care about the commoners if someone is greasing their palms.” He stepped back. That was my cue to go.
“The dragons make the cure for the hook expensive?” I pulled on my pack and waited for him to go first.
“Yeah, ain’t that a bitch? I hear they wax poetic about the dangers of drugs and how horrible it is to be addicted but don’t they have their hands out, too? They’re gettin’ rich, same as that Granny. Same as the royals. Everyone is profiting off somebody.”
Indeed.
“And...” I waited for him to get to the bottom of the ladder before I started down. “Losing one’s appetite—that’s common?”
“Yeah. It’s a side-effect, I guess. Some people do it just for that, I heard. Might just be a tall tale, I don’t know. Pretty dumb, if so. A bit o’ meat on your bones is better than what you’ll end up looking like after too many snacks, know what I mean? You haven’t lost too much weight yet. You’ll be okay. You just gotta resist. It’s really hard, I hear, but you’ll thank me later.”
He walked me to the front of the stables and nodded at me.
“Best thing for you,” he said, “is to take that money and spend it on a good night’s sleep.” He pointed at the inn. “Then go back home and find yourself a nice happy mate who’ll take good care o’ you. You’re real pretty—you should find someone, no problem. Have a couple of little ones and forget you ever thought about dabbling in any of that stuff.”
I smiled at him, hiding how disturbed I was. Snack boxes, having too many snacks, the hook—they were cute terms disguising horrible effects. Life altering effects. People lost their appetites? How in the hell had Granny devised that? Why?
Frustrated, I pushed through the weathered door of the inn, intent on asking more questions. Maybe the innkeeper would have more insight than the young stable hand.
Wooden beams ran overhead in the entrance area and a worn oak counter stood to the side. A large book lay open near the end, half filled with a heavy scrawl, the rest blank save for a dusting of faint brown lines. A chubby man stood behind the counter looking up at me over wire-rimmed glasses as I walked in. He took in my face and then my clothes as I asked for a room, and then paused in putting out a hand for money as I inquired after the snack boxes.
“This inn is a no-tolerance establishment. If you get caught snacking here, you’ll be kicked out without a refund. Not into the stables, either, which I see you’ve found. Into the street.”
He waited expectantly.
“Got it,” I said.
His eyebrows furrowed and he took my money.
“You get breakfast with your room. Be down by nine tomorrow. Otherwise, lunch starts around eleven and bleeds into dinner. We got ale, nothing harder. If you want harder, you gotta go into the square.”
“Sorry, I’m new to all this. The snack boxes count as something harder, then?”
Again he studied me over his glasses. “If you’re new to this, you’d best quit while you’re ahead. Otherwise, head to the main square. Before you get to the fountain, hang a left down the side street. You’ll see the cart halfway down with the purple and black awning. They sell other stuff there, but mainly Granny. If you buy it, you’d best hide it because we got a lot of people in this town who’ll knock you down and take it from you. That stuff creates a lot of crime.”
“Got it.” I took my change and slipped it into my pocket, pausing before heading for the stairs. “Could I... I mean, do you have baths here?”
He leaned against the counter. “A hot bath is a copper. If you want someone to attend to you, it’ll be two.”
My smile was shy. “And where do I buy supplies? I’ve been rinsing up in a... well, a bucket, basically. It might be nice to have some nice smelling soaps and maybe some fragrant bath stuff.”
“The attendant will have what you need.”
I laid out my coppers and had no idea what I would do with all the gold. What would I spend it on to even get change? It wouldn’t be a bath, that was for sure, and I doubted very much the food here was much more. The room had been less than a silver and I didn’t have too many of those. Weston had given me a literal fortune. He’d given me more than enough to start a life. Without him.
It was hard to pull a breath into my suddenly tight chest as a swell of regret overtook me. The need to go back to him was suddenly and completely overwhelming, so much so that I had to stop myself from canceling the room and going back to him right now. I missed him. I missed his glittering eyes and his hard-to-coax-out grin. I missed the opportunity to learn more about him. Hell, I even missed hate-fucking him and being forced to share his bed and his warmth after.
Now, here, I wished I’d gotten the chance to explore this intense feeling further. Or maybe... maybe I just wished we were two different people with normal lives who’d met in a chance encounter at a market.
“Miss?” The man looked at me expectantly, clearly having just asked me a question.
“Sorry, what?”
“When do you want it, now?” the man asked. “Or after a bite to eat?”
“Oh.” My stomach rumbled but I didn’t want to eat while smelling like a hay loft and looking like something that crawled out of one. “Now, please. Thanks.”
It had been a good choice. The woman attending me must’ve been the innkeeper’s wife. She was chatty and lively in comparison to his deadpan, no-nonsense delivery. She put rose petals in the water, making it smell lovely, washed my hair with lavender soap, and scrubbed me down within an inch of my life. I was pretty sure she’d taken off an entire layer of skin.
When she was finished, she wrapped me in a soft linen and took my clothes to get laundered without asking. Wearing clothes from my cottage Weston had packed for me, I headed down to a hot breakfast and a half mug of ale. I’d purchased a full one, but it turned out I didn’t much like the stuff—much too strong. I let the grumpy-faced man with a red beard sitting at the table behind me have it, smiling as I did so.
His frown was pronounced.
“What’s in it?” he asked, and the barman with a round belly and dirty apron stopped what he was doing and looked over.
I lifted my eyebrows, looking into the ceramic mug. “Ale? The amber kind.”
“What else?”
I stared at him for a beat. “Hops? Barley? I’m not really sure how they make ale.”
“He’s asking if you put one of them snacks into his drink,” the bartender said in a booming voice, the tavern patrons going quiet and looking my way.
“Oh my— No,” I said, aghast. “No! Why would I do that? That’s absurd. Forget the fact that it is just wasting hard-earned coin, but a person should only consume that sort of product after careful contemplation. It’s not something you should just stumble into.”
No one so much as moved within the tavern, all still staring at me.
“I mean... here, I’ll show you it’s fine.” I grabbed the mug and took a swill, grimacing as the strong taste flooded my mouth. “Ugh. I’m sure this is a lovely brew, crafted with a lot of finesse and attention to detail, but gods slap me, it’s a bit tart, isn’t it? Very, very strong. I’m really not a fan of it. I’m more of a wine girl. Do you want it or not?”
Red Beard looked over at the barman for a beat before they both started laughing.
“Yeah, I’ll take it. No sense in wasting good ale.” He took the mug from me, tilting his head in thanks.
“Oh.” I chuckled, pointing at him. “You were joking about my putting stuff in your drink.”
His brow furrowed. “No, I wasn’t joking. Are you new here?”
My smile drifted away. “I’m just passing through. You weren’t joking? Do people actually do that?”
He shook his head as the bartender leaned his hands against the bar, watching us. Everyone else had gone back to their meals, chatting amongst themselves.
“You’d better watch yourself in this town, girl,” he said in a low tone. “They’ll hook you any way they can. Watch your back, too. Crime is on the rise. If you’re passing through, best get your business done and get gone.”
Unsettled, I grabbed my pack and headed out, vaguely recalling one of Weston’s biggest issues was innocent people getting hooked. It seemed totally farfetched to put it in a drink, though. Accidentally doing something one time shouldn’t create a dependency. I hadn’t ever heard of something with effects that quick.
Outside, the sunlight bounced off the clean cobblestones and highlighted the cute houses and little shops. Near the square I found the side street in question, my curiosity burning about what was being sold in the stall with the purple and black awning.
She’d never asked to use my design. She’d never mentioned it. I would’ve thought something like that might’ve come up in conversation. Oh hey, Aurelia, by the way, I’m using your art for my shop face. Isn’t that cool? We’re in this together!
I would’ve thought that was amazing. I would’ve felt even more connected to her and the job. Now I just felt dirty, hearing what people were saying and learning what I had. I was disgusted and wanted to prove everyone wrong. I didn’t want any of this to be true.
A few people gathered at the stand, all of them malnourished and unnaturally skinny, like they hadn’t been eating or taking care of themselves in months, maybe years. One of them walked away, opening the purple and black wrapper immediately and popping a bright pink item into his mouth.
I’d looked at all the names on the wrappers, none of which I used for the stuff I created. Happiness or Booster Pack or Dream Time, cutesy names with very little description of what they did.
Another person walked away, several items held tight in her hands as she scurried along. Yet another was arguing about the price and his lack of funds.
“Supply and demand,” the stall attendee told the man. “If you can’t afford it, buy one of these other, cheaper ones.”
“I don’t want any of those,” the man spat. “I want Dream Time! I have to have Dream Time!”
The layout of the stand was pristine, all the products were lined up neatly and displayed well with little cards at the front listing the names and prices. My eyes widened in shock as I looked at the numbers. Two products for a silver piece? That was as pricy as room and board. Each product cost way more than a hot bath and a warm meal, something all the people in that alleyway greatly needed.
“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.
Because I would create something to combat it. This was not okay.
Whatever that waxy stuff was, it could clearly be applied to any product. Me stopping production would not stop Alexander from just grabbing another creator and continuing to poison people for the sake of riches. I’d make something to unhook people that didn’t cost a bunch of coin. After that, I’d somehow take this organization to the ground. I’d unravel what I’d helped create.
I wasn’t even at the end of the side-street before my stomach started to twist painfully. A feeling like vertigo swept over me and my mind spun. This was the sickness Weston and the others had been talking about.
What an asshole I had been. He’d told me about this, over and over. He said he’d seen it, that the pack knew people who’d experienced it. I hadn’t listened.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that I was just as much at fault in our communication breakdown as he was. I’d been just as stubborn, if not more so. He’d relented; I had not.
I wished he was here, standing beside me, holding my hand as I walked this chemical-coated journey. Or just here for no other reason than I wanted to see his face. Hear his voice. See the rage, or lust, or humor glinting in his eyes.
The pains in my stomach got worse as I walked through the city. At one point I staggered to the side of the road and braced a hand against a wall, bent over. I wasn’t the only one. Other people I noticed had hunched in places, holding their stomachs for a moment. When they straightened, they took a deep breath and continued on, their movements slowing, their walk turning into more of a trudge. After that, things seemed to even out for them.
I felt the same effects and mirrored the same actions until I found myself stopped at the mouth of an alleyway, staring into space, imagining a large ball the size of a house rolling through the cobblestone street in front of me. The image was crisp and vibrant. Birds swooped down onto it, colorful and lovely. This was the part of the product I’d devised, though it made me feel much more stationary than usual.
Having had enough, I closed my eyes and went through the steps necessary to rid my body of the effects. It still worked, just like usual. That was a relief, at least.
I’d need to peel off the waxy portion and figure out what it was made of. I was well-versed in reverse engineering. It’s how I’d gotten into this trade in the first place.
When I opened my eyes, it was to a hawk-like stare on a stern face.
“Hello,” the man said. His clothes smelled fresh. Other men stood around me, one on each side of me and one behind. “I hear you had some questions about how Granny altered your product. It is your product, is it not? The drawing we were given matches your likeness perfectly.”
My heart picked up speed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said in a slightly confused tone, hoping my alarm didn’t show on my face.
“I think you do. There’s a big reward for whoever brings you in. Alexander will be happy to come and collect you himself.” He glanced at those around me. “Take her.”