Page 6 of The Poison Within

Lár smirked at the pissed-off aura I likely gave off. “Actually, Inspector, you should be glad you’re off this case,” he said in insincere consolation.

“I should? And why is that?” I cocked my head.

Lár glanced around before adding in a small voice, “The stupid sods had a little fun with a Nymph from the camp. Banged her up pretty badly afterwards, too. And now they’re dead.”

“A little fun? That a euphemism for rape, Inspector?”

He grimaced, clearly not appreciating my comment. “Anyway, there’s talk that the Nymphs hired someone to avenge their own. An attack on an Imperial soldier is an attack on the Emperor himself. The non-human element makes it messy. And political. The search for the Nymph to bring her in for questioning has already begun.”

“Excellent. Harassing the victim is always a good place to start.”

“Now look here, Inspector Skaer—”

Something in my brain clicked. “Do you know what she looks like? The Nymph?”

“What? The Nymph? No idea. They all look alike to me.”

I balled my fingers into fists. My knuckles cracked. Every time I heard similar racist shit, I wanted to break bones.

A hand touched my shoulder. Behind me, Temper cleared his throat. I forced myself to relax.

“Shall we, Inspector?” Temper drawled.

On my way out, I noticed something glinting on the floor near the exit. When I stopped to pick it up, Temper almost walked into me. I snatched up my little find—a blue glass crystal. Luckily nobody paid me any attention after I’d been dismissed. With Temper at my heels, I left the inn.

A thrill of satisfaction filled me as I squeezed the cold clue resting in my palm. Fuck Lár with a pitchfork. I’d just cracked the Bold Cock killer case.

As soon as I could, I got rid of Temper by directing him to take care of some bureaucratic trifle. I didn’t want to implicate him in what I was about to undertake. Pensive, I mounted my horse, mulling over the memory of an event I’d witnessed around late summer.

A couple of months before the Bold Cock incident, I had a bad flare-up of the nerve pain I suffered from on occasion. It would start in my lower back, curl around my hip and radiate down my leg—a complete bitch to endure. If it became sore enough to prevent me from riding, which happened at the season change twice a year on average, I’d go to see Ÿben.

They said Ÿben used to be a prosperous alchemist in the capital before a shady deal with the wrong clientele went south, forcing him to pack it up and move west. His shop, tucked between a gambling den and a brothel on a narrow street just off the centre of Azlě, catered to humans and non-humans alike. Born to a human mother and an Elven father, he fancied himself an equal opportunity entrepreneur. Enhanced painkillers, prohibited substances, illicit potions and charms were on offer to whoever had coin at their disposal.

Ÿben supplied me with the powdered root of kyrsh, which he imported specially for me from Trovo. In exchange, I refrained from examining his stock cupboards too thoroughly during the routine searches that his premises frequently underwent due to denunciations by concerned citizens. And most likely competitors.

That day, as usual, Ÿben let me in at the back where he’d set up his laboratory and conducted bigger deals. We weren’t alone. Two women shared a bench by the window, clasped in each other’s arms. The nature of their relationship didn’t take much imagination; with their kisses and touches, the tenderness between them was palpable.

I immediately recognised the dark-haired, pale stunner as a Furia. I’d worked enough non-human cases to be able to tell them apart from their vampire cousins. It helped that she flashed her sharp, narrow, flat canines when she laughed at something her companion—a petite, pastel-blonde Nymph with the hooded eyes of a dreamer—whispered into her ear.

Together they were a vision. I paused and stared, transfixed by their contrasting beauty.

Upon noticing me, the Furia glared through menacing purple eyes, tightening her arm around the Nymph’s shoulders.

I assumed my best friendly expression and nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, I received a sharp chin lift in return. The movement made the gems in her drop earrings—blue glass crystals—jingle and disperse light. Before I looked away, I noticed blood-drawing paraphernalia scattered on the bench beside her.

When Ÿben returned with my goods in a small pouch, I said in an undertone, “You deal Furia blood now?”

“I deal whatever sells, Inspector.” He smirked. “Long live our dear Emperor but I’m a democrat at heart; I listen to the voice of the people. People with coin, that is.”

I sneered. “Democrat my ass. In that case, you’re an elitist. A crook and an opportunist to boot.”

Unruffled, Ÿben waved his hand in the air. “Same difference. Granted, not many can afford this particular elixir. I’ve got a few clients lined up nevertheless.”

“So it’s true? Does it really heal all ailments?”

“Come on, Inspector Skaer, don’t believe the old wives’ tales. It heals some diseases, not all. It can slow the progression of others. And it only works if the blood is given freely by the donor. If you, let’s say, forced a Furia to give blood, it would lose its medicinal properties. Fascinating, eh?”

Ÿben had always been a chatty one, which suited me well enough. His loquacity proved useful to me on several occasions when he’d provided valuable information on non-humans. So when he talked, I damn well kept my ears open.