Icelynne flitted about my room. I’d spent the last hour grilling her on absolutely everything she could remember about her confinement. When she’d called me a bully Sleagh Maith and broke out in tears, I let it go—she hadn’t been able to tell me anything she hadn’t already said when the queen and Falin had questioned her. Now I was writing up all the details she had given me in a document, along with everything I could remember from questioning Jeremy’s and Bruce’s shades. I was hoping organizing what I knew about the case would shine a new light on it, but I was running in circles.
I knew fae were being kidnapped, held, and drained in the winter court by an unknown fae who was making a drug from their blood. That drug was being distributed to mortals, but I wasn’t sure how. Jeremy had said he picked it up at a club. Bruce had gotten it in the parking lot outside his high school dance. And why was the drug being distributed? Money would be the normal guess, but most fae didn’t care much about mortal money. And if it was just about money, why go with an exotic drug that used fae glamour? Why not something more mundane?
And what about the deaths? What was the drug supposed to do? Were these deaths abnormalities and there were lots of people using Glitter with no consequence? Or was it a death sentence? Did nightmares always come to life on the drug?
I stared at the screen, and then highlighted the word “nightmares.” Faerie had nightmares. An entire realm of them that fed on the bad dreams of mortals. To my knowledge they didn’t kill anyone, but I was far from an expert.
The cursor blinked at me, taunting me with my lack of information.
I shut the laptop a little harder than I needed. Then I looked up. Lusa Duncan, the star reporter for Witch Watch lacked her camera-worthy smile, which never happened. Either she didn’t like what she was reporting on, or she was trying to give the piece a serious tone. It was always weird when reporters delivered bad news with a brilliant smile. I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.
“—a new drug called Glitter. Officials are warning that reports of this particular drug just appeared on the street but is already responsible for several deaths. Citizens are warned to avoid this drug at all costs and report anyone who approaches trying to sell or give it away. While authorities won’t release any information on the alleged deaths, they say the drug is classified as extremely dangerous.” Then she did smile. “But aren’t all illegal drugs, Todd?”
The camera panned to another anchorman. “That they are, Lusa. The number at the bottom of the screen is a toll-free crime stoppers line. If you spot suspicious activities—”
I muted it again. So John, or most likely someone higher up in the NCPD, had given a press release about Glitter. That was fast. I guessed it had to be the police though—I doubted the courts wanted the name of a drug with ties back to Faerie announced on television. I hoped the announcement would prevent some deaths, but I doubted it. From my experience, people who wanted to try a drug did so. I’d raised more than a few shades of addicts. The families always wanted to know why they had to take that one last hit, go for that last high. The shades never had a satisfying answer.
My brain centered around the word addict. What was the point of a drug that killed the user? You never got repeat business. Definitely not a profitable way to do business, though I already doubted profit was a motivation. Still, what was the benefit of a killer recreational drug? Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be deadly?
Or mortals weren’t the intended users. But then why distribute it in the mortal realm?
If it wasn’t aimed at mortals, the human element of this was likely the weak point of the operation. I knew the drug was made in Faerie, but it was making its way to the mortal realm, which meant it was likely passing through the Bloom. The door was on the VIP side, but the mortals were on the tourist side. Maybe I could learn something there. Unless, of course, it is passing through some other door and being shipped into Nekros. But Icelynne was sure she’d been held in the winter court, and the winter court just happened to be the court currently tied to the door in Nekros. The simplest solution was often the correct one, so while I couldn’t discount the drug being shipped in, it was fairly safe to assume that it was passing through the Bloom.
I glanced at my clock. It was nearly four and Falin wasn’t back yet. It would be dark in a few hours, so I couldn’t legally drive if I’d be out long—I had a restricted license. For some reason people weren’t keen on drivers with deteriorating vision operating a vehicle while completely night-blind. Go figure. Besides, I’d been more or less blind when Falin had dropped me off, so my car was still parked at the hotel.