“What—this weekend? Well, I have a guest—” She clicked her tongue. “No, it’s a long story. He’s like … a roommate? His name? Uh, Athie. No, Mom.” She sighed. “This weekend really doesn’t work. No, I’m not blowing you guys off again.” She gritted her teeth. “What about a video chat, then? Mmhmm, yeah, of course I’ll make the time.” Bryce winced again. “Okay, Mom. Bye.”

Bryce turned to him, grimacing.

“Your mom seems … insistent,” Hunt said carefully.

“I’m video chatting with my parents at seven.” She sighed at the sky. “They want to meet you.”

Viktoria was at the bar when they arrived, a glass of whiskey in front of her. She offered them both a grave smile, then slid a file over as they seated themselves to her left.

“What did you find?” Bryce asked, opening the cream-colored folder.

“Read it,” Viktoria said, then glanced toward the cameras in the bar. Recording everything.

Bryce nodded, taking the warning, and Hunt leaned closer as her head dipped to read, unable to stop himself from stretching out his wing, ever so slightly, around her back.

He forgot about it, though, when he beheld the test results. “This can’t be right,” he said quietly.

“That’s what I said,” Viktoria said, her narrow face impassive.

There, on the Fae’s Mimir screening, lay the results: small bits of something synthetic. Not organic, not technological, not magic—but a combination of all three.

Find what is in-between, Aidas had said.

“Danika freelanced for Redner Industries,” Bryce said. “They do all sorts of experiments. Would that explain this?”

“It might,” Viktoria said. “But I’m running the Mimir on every other sample we have—from the others. Initial tests also came up positive on Maximus Tertian’s clothes.” The tattoo on Viktoria’s brow bunched as she frowned. “It’s not pure magic, or tech, or organic. It’s a hybrid, with its other traces causing it to be canceled out in the other categories. A cloaking device, almost.”

Bryce frowned. “What is it, exactly?”

Hunt knew Viktoria well enough to read the caution in the wraith’s eyes. She said to Bryce, “It’s some sort of … drug. From what I can find, it looks like it’s mostly used for medical purposes in very small doses, but might have leaked onto the streets—which led to doses that are far from safe.”

“Danika wouldn’t have taken a drug like that.”

“Of course not,” Viktoria said quickly. “But she was exposed to it—all her clothes were. Whether that was upon her death or before it, however, is unclear. We’re about to run the test on the samples we took from the Pack of Devils and the two most recent victims.”

“Tertian was in the Meat Market,” Hunt murmured. “He might have taken it.”

But Bryce demanded, “What’s it called? This thing?”

Viktoria pointed to the results. “Exactly what it sounds like. Synth.”

Bryce whipped her head around to look at Hunt. “Ruhn said that medwitch mentioned a synthetic healing compound that could possibly repair …” She didn’t finish the statement.

Hunt’s eyes were dark as the Pit, a haunted look in them. “It might be the same one.”

Viktoria held up her hands. “Again, I’m still testing the other victims, but … I just thought you should know.”

Bryce hopped off the stool. “Thanks.”

Hunt let her reach the front door before he murmured to the wraith, “Keep it quiet, Vik.”

“Already wiped the files from the legion database,” Vik said.

They barely spoke while they returned to the gallery, grabbed Syrinx, and headed home. Only when they stood in her kitchen, Hunt leaning against the counter, did he say, “Investigations can take time. We’re getting closer. That’s a good thing.”

She dumped food in Syrinx’s bowl, face unreadable. “What do you think about this synth?”

Hunt considered his words carefully. “As you said, it could have just been exposure Danika had at Redner. Tertian could have just taken it as a recreational drug right before he died. And we’re still waiting to find out if it shows up on the clothes of the remaining victims.”

“I want to know about it,” she said, pulling out her phone and dialing.

“It might not be worth our—”

Ruhn picked up. “Yeah?”

“That synthetic healing drug you heard about from the medwitch. What do you know about it?”

“She sent over some research a couple days ago. A lot of it’s been redacted by Redner Industries, but I’m going through it. Why?”

Bryce glanced toward Hunt’s open bedroom door—to the photo of her and Danika on the dresser, Hunt realized. “There were traces of something called synth on Danika’s clothes—it’s a relatively new synthetic medicine. And it sounds like it’s leaked onto the streets and is being used in higher concentrations as an illegal substance. I’m wondering if it’s the same thing.”

“Yeah, this research is on synth.” Pages rustled in the background. “It can do some pretty amazing things. There’s a list of ingredients here—again, a lot of it was redacted, but …”

Ruhn’s silence was like a bomb dropping.

“But what?” Hunt said into the phone, leaning close enough to hear Bryce’s thundering heart.

“Obsidian salt is listed as one of the ingredients.”

“Obsidian …” Bryce blinked at Hunt. “Could the synth be used to summon a demon? If someone didn’t have the power on their own, could the obsidian salt in the drug let them call on something like the kristallos?”

“I’m not sure,” Ruhn said. “I’ll read through this and let you know what I find.”

“Okay.” Bryce blew out a breath, and Hunt pulled a step away as she began pacing again. “Thanks, Ruhn.”

Ruhn’s pause was different this time. “No problem, Bryce.” He hung up.

Hunt met her stare. She said, “We need to figure out who’s selling this stuff. Tertian must have known before he died. We’re going to the Meat Market.” Because if there was one place in this city where a drug like that might be available, it’d be in that cesspit.

Hunt swallowed. “We need to be careful—”

“I want answers.” She aimed for the front closet.

Hunt stepped into her path. “We’ll go tomorrow.” She drew up short, mouth opening. But Hunt shook his head. “Take tonight off.”

“It can’t—”

“Yes, it can wait, Bryce. Talk to your parents tonight. I’ll put on some real clothes,” he added, gesturing to his battle-suit. “And then tomorrow, we’ll go to the Meat Market to ask around. It can wait.” Hunt, despite himself, grabbed her hand. Ran his thumb over the back of it. “Enjoy talking to your parents, Bryce. They’re alive. Don’t miss out on a moment of it. Not for this.” She still looked like she’d object, insist they go hunt down the synth, so he said, “I wish I had that luxury.”