Chapter 42 Ashes to Ashes #2
I groaned, cracking my neck and standing up straight from where I’d been slouching against the wall.
“Shoulda known this was too easy.”
The corner of Toru’s mouth lifted a fraction. “Hey there, bounty hunter. Having fun?”
He dumped the new bag unceremoniously at my feet. “I’d invite you to come join me in the VIP section when you’re done, but…” he said, his toe nudging the bag. “I think you’re going to be a while.”
With a snort, I picked it up and inspected the inside, but my face fell at the unfamiliar contents. “What the hell is this?”
“Some new shit,” Toru replied with a shrug. “Boss wants you pushing this.”
I bit back my frustration. “Okay, but how can I push it if I don’t even know what it is?”
Toru walked over, unzipping the new bag and taking out a little plastic baggie filled with dark gray powder. “Sindr” he said, shaking it in front of me. “Bruum gets you high, but sindr’ll turn you into ash.”
I’d never heard of sindr before. Not that I was all that interested in the drug scene these days, but I wasn’t a hermit or anything, either.
Toru put the baggie back. “These are two hundred a gram, one-twenty for half. Boss said he wants both backpacks empty by the end of the night.”
A quick glance told me there were around forty bags in there, which meant I’d probably have to do more than just stand near the bathrooms.
With that, Toru gave me a patronizing pat on the back. “Good luck, Oniguro.”
I stared at the contents a little longer, trying to think of the fastest way to push this shit as possible.
After dumping the rest of the bruum in the new backpack, I headed towards the dance floor.
Swallowing back the bile in my throat, I went to a group of kids, a mix of designations and Magiks, dancing in a tight circle near the bar. I found the alpha of the group, a witch grinding on a seraph omega who kept smacking me with his wings while I tried to get closer.
“You looking to amp up the fun?” I asked, pushing some of my possessive power into my voice. I could be convincing if I wanted to.
The witch turned around, his pupils already dilated. He gave me a cursory up-and-down, biting his lip. “Three’s always better than two,” he purred, twisting around to grab one of my horns and pull me in for a kiss.
I let him, for just a moment, before taking his chin and gently prying it off my face. “Not that kind of fun, sweetheart. Ever heard of sindr?”
His brow raised in interest. “No, what’s that?”
I gestured towards the seraph. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Taking the witch by the hand, who in turn held onto his omega, I led them back towards the bathrooms. We entered together, and then I opened my backpack while they continued to paw at each other, their eyes on me.
I took one of the smaller bags and tapped a little on the back of my hand, offering it to the witch. “A bump to taste.”
He leaned in eagerly, snorting it with practiced ease and then licking my skin clean. Then he stood back up, blinking and breathing deeply as it hit his system.
He swayed once, pupils blown wide, mouth opening like he couldn’t remember how to breathe.
And then he began convulsing.
“Griffin!” the seraph yelled, holding on to him and trying to keep him from falling and smacking his head on the porcelain sink. He turned to me next, his eyes turning white in anger. “What the fuck did you give him?”
“I—”
The witch was getting worse, and I froze.
What the fuck had I given him?
I took out my phone, about to call an ambulance, but then another idea came to mind. Someone who could give me answers much more quickly, if the asshole wasn’t already high himself.
The dial tone sounded, and after a few rings, he finally picked up.
“Ronaaaan—”
“Shut the fuck up and listen! Do you know what sindr is?”
“Sindr?” Arlen scoffed. “I don’t mess with that shit, it’s absolutely vile. Why?”
“Because I’ve got someone OD-ing on the stuff right in front of me!”
“Well, damn, Ronan, call an—”
“I can’t!”
Arlen huffed. “I mean, in a pinch a seraph’s feather can—”
Dammit, why hadn’t I thought of that myself?
I hung up on the elf.
“Sorry about this,” I said a second before I ripped a handful of feathers out of one of the seraph’s wings.
“What the hell, dude?”
I took the seizing witch and laid him on the floor, foam licking the corners of his mouth.
One of the feathers in hand, I ripped open his shirt, pausing just for a moment with a quick plea to Ravaric, and shoved the quill into his heart, holy light flashing in his veins and spreading through his chest.
He gasped, shooting straight up and taking in huge gulpfuls of air.
“Griffin!” the seraph cried, cradling him and stroking his head. “Griffin, are you okay?”
The witch couldn’t even speak. Tears streamed down his face as his body still trembled.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
I tried to help them up, but the seraph shoved me back. “Fuck you, demon. Don’t you dare touch him.”
My skin was cold, and I placed the rest of the feathers I’d taken on the edge of the sink and backed up. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t…”
They ignored me as they hobbled out of the bathroom, the seraph giving me one more icy glare before the door shut behind them.
The backpack was heavy in my hand as I stood there, trying to calm myself down.
Bruum was one thing, but this sindr shit was going to kill Magiks.
After a quick calculation, I realized I had about eighty-two hundred runics worth of merch to push.
I dumped the contents in the toilet, and then stopped by the bank on the way home.
If I had to pay for all these tests out of my own pocket, so be it.