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Before the jaws could close, a black blade blasted through the Hound’s head. Blood and tar sprayed, and Darien rolled through the grass right on time, the blade anchoring the demon to the ground. Had he acted one second later, it would’ve skewered him too.

Darien leapt to his feet. Pulled out the blade of black adamant—the blade Jack had thrown—from the corpse.

And turned, lashing out in time to decapitate another Hound, the power in the blade ripping through his blood and making his teeth sing.

The head fell to the ground, tar spraying, and rolled, the body crumpling in a gory heap.

Another Hound lunged at his left. Darien leapt and twisted, slamming the blade into the back of the monster’s skull. Skin and bone severed, the sound like boulders smashing together. Fizzing black blood exploded from the wound, soaking Darien’s front.

He hit the ground on his feet, ducking under a brutal claw, and ran for the truck, breath sawing apart his lungs. Without a proper hilt, the blade was hard to hold, the tar on his right hand making his grip slip, as if the blade was trying to reject it. The unholy magic singeing from hilt to tip continued to vibrate Darien’s eardrums and blood, the power so intense it nearly buckled his knees.

Jack had started the truck, the passenger’s-side door open for Darien. He waved frantically, Kylar shouting from the back seat.

He dove inside and shut the door on claws that were singed by the protective spells. The Hound roared in pain as the bones in its hand were shattered.

Jack peeled away from the park and screeched onto the interstate, narrowly missing the barricade separating lanes. Horns blared, and cars swerved, several spinning in complete circles down the interstate.

Jack straightened the truck and reduced speed.

For several minutes, none of them said anything, their ragged breathing filling the silence.

And then Kylar leaned between the front seats. “Tell me you got the tar,” he said, still catching his breath.

Darien felt around in his pockets until he found the vial. He held it up, the tar shining like liquid night.

“So if you’re on Venom,” Kylar said, “you can kill Hounds more easily?”

“Far more easily.”

“And what about the Veil monsters?”

“It’s about a fifty-fifty chance.”

Jack chuckled. “Sixty-forty if you’re lucky.” His eyes met Darien’s, the black fading out of them. “Thanks for saving my ass, by the way. That would’ve been a shitty way to die.”

“What, drowning in tar while a Hound disembowels you? There are plenty worse way to die, Jacky.”

Only Jack would laugh at that.

They were passing through the north end of the Financial District when Darien told Jack to stop the truck.

He pulled into a stall by the curb. Across the street sat a massive hotel, the building shades of cream with gilded accents. The sign read ‘The Blood Queen’, the cursive font forming a sharp contrast with its name. Darien had spotted this hotel on billboards when they’d first driven into the city, the advertisements priding itself on its five-star rating as ‘luxury gem of the state’. Two security guards stood in uniform by the revolving glass doors. But it wasn’t the hotel, nor the security guards that had caught Darien’s attention.

He leaned forward in his seat, watching the two men making their way down the sidewalk, toward the doors of the hotel. They were dressed in heavy coats, hands in their pockets. Despite the hoods at their disposal, neither of them made an attempt to put them on and hide their faces—rookie mistake. Their breath fogged before them, and even from this distance, Darien could see their features clear as daylight.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured.

Kylar leaned between the front seats. “What’s going on?”

“Those are Gaven’s men.”

“You serious?” Jack said. “What are they doing in Yveswich?”

“Who’s Gaven?” Kylar cut in.

“Gaven Payne,” Darien replied.

“The Gaven Payne?” Kylar asked. “You mean the weapons dealer?”