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Ronin’s blood obviously unnerved Marina. It explained why she had not come for Naia yet. Marina was methodical and calculated, and she would not rush in without knowing about Ronin and his blood. This potion was the perfect solution.

“If Marina finds out about this, she will take you hostage and make you create it for her alone.” Naia pointed at Avi more aggressively than she meant to. If Marina caused him harm, Naia wasn’t sure what she’d do. She had little faith in herself up against her sister. “The fact it has been a day since the charity event, and she still hasn’t come for me, says she is planning. If she catches wind this potion exists, she will ravage this city. Do you understand?”

Avi blinked at Naia. “Uh, well, I…”

Theon raised his arm to the shelf again and pulled out a jar of what appeared to be full of mushrooms.

He plucked one out and handed it to her. “Eat this.”

Naia looked between the white mushroom and him. “What is it?”

“A sedative.”

She scowled and chucked the mushroom at him. “You are, I believe the most common phrase they go by these days is, an ass.”

Theon’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Asshole would probably be more fitting, but close enough.”

Avi reached down and picked up the mushroom broken into pieces on the floor. “You know how I feel about wasting my ingredients.”

Naia spun around to Ronin with a silent demand for him to chime in and answer her questions, but his cell phone began vibrating incessantly from his pocket.

“Avi created the potion.” He slipped his phone from his pocket and looked down at the screen, then back up at her. “He keeps it locked away with a blood spell. Nobody else besides us in this room knows of it—not even Finnian. And if Marina found a way to get it, it wouldn’t work on her because the potion requires personalized ingredients—like the strand of your hair I plucked from your shirt seconds after we arrived. But I fucking dare your sister to try and steal what isn’t hers. Gives me a reason to vent my anger.”

He gave the end of her strands a light tug before heading towards the door, his phone already up to his ear. “Yeah?”

Her stomach fluttered as she watched him stroll out of the room. The size of his confidence was astonishing, while also completely believable. A mere mortal referring to a High Goddess like Marina as a minor obstacle in his path. It was impressive—and equally foolish.

“Theon takes it too,” Avi informed her as vials levitated over his head and began filling with the potion. “After being sprayed with Ronin’s blood a few times, the bastard threw a hissy fit?—”

Avi barely got the last word out before a layer of ice encased his lips.

“The taste of the potion is atrocious,” Theon said.

Avi’s face contorted, and he howled a stream of incoherent insults through his sealed mouth.

Naia gave Theon a flat look, gesturing to Avi with her finger. “Was that necessary?”

Theon shrugged, matching Ronin’s nonchalant attitude. “Who defines what necessary is?”

Naia rolled her eyes, and Avi dug through a shelf below his workbench. He pulled out a vial full of bright yellow potion and poured the viscous liquid over his mouth. The ice melted immediately.

He spun around to Theon, his face cherry red, and the muscles in his broad arms straining. “Fucking asshole!”

Theon passed him a mocking wave, traces of his smirk in the way his eyes bunched up above his mask, and headed for the door.

26

THE INFORMANT

Naia stood in front of the door leading into the VIP room on the second story of the lounge, shifting on her feet. Ruckus and voices carried from the bottom floor below. Members in an intense game of cards, the thick layer of smoke from their cigarettes clouding the room. Theon and Avi’s bickering at the bar climbed up the walls, disrupting the soft clinks of ice against the glass of drinks.

According to Avi, the VIP room was reserved for Ronin, where he conducted his meetings with the leaders of the Blood Heretics. What if she was intruding? He left quickly after answering his phone. He seemed busy?—

A familiar aura appeared behind her, tingling at her nape. A presence resembling strokes of a midnight sky; the calm lapping of the sea above her head. Safety in the form of a person.

It filled her with pride to discern his presence, and she smiled, feeling him hover behind her.

His forehead rested on the back of her head, and he drew in a breath. “I was looking for you.”