A Midsummer Night's Scream (The Dulcie O'Neil Series Book 7) (10 page)

“Who says I do that?”

“I can read you like a book,” he answered with a shrug. “You’re trying so hard to play the tough cop; but inside, you’re nothing more than a little, scared recruit. An amateur who is trying her best to fill shoes that are two sizes too big.”

Great!
He’d bought my lie about being new to the ANC. That was good. The less he knew about me, the better. That he knew Melchior was my father still unsettled me, but maybe he’d just surmised as much from our last names. And if such were the case, I’d already given too much away by admitting it.
Damn.
Score for him.

“I’m not scared,” I responded in a matter-of-fact tone. He stood up and approached me, gripping the bars in front of him. I didn’t flinch or take a step back; I held my ground, bent on proving, once and for all, that I wasn’t afraid.

“I wonder how scared you’d be if you were locked inside this cell with me right now,” he started in a low voice.

“I would never put myself in that position.”

“Would I beat you senseless?” he continued, as if I hadn’t said anything at all. “Or would I push you against the wall, wrap my hand around your throat to keep you immobilized as I found out for myself what that tight little ass of yours feels like?”

I swallowed hard. No, I gulped audibly. I couldn’t help it.

Dulcie, keep yourself together! He’s just pushing your buttons. You can’t react!
I told myself, trying to ignore the fires of indignation inside me that raged. My hands were already fisted at my sides of their own accord. It took all my effort to talk myself down from the precipice. My temper flaring, I was ready to go, and full steam ahead. But once that happened, I knew I wouldn’t be able to rein it back in. So it couldn’t happen.

It took me a few seconds before I found my voice again. “What sort of potions does Crossbones supply?”

He eyed me narrowly for a few seconds, apparently disappointed I hadn’t lost my cool. Then a smile formed on his mouth as he pushed away from the bars. He walked to the far end of his cell before turning around and walking back toward me. He reminded me of a tiger trapped in a cage far too small.

“We’ve got the standards: ArsonFire, Marsh Root, Angel Breath,” he began with a shrug before pacing back to the other end of his cell again. “But you can pretty much find those anywhere.”

“But those aren’t all Crossbones supplies?”

“You’d be right on that supposition,” he affirmed while approaching me again. “There are only two potions we are known to exclusively provide,” he continued, this time pausing right in front of me. “Thissel and DragonFire.”

Thissel was a relatively new street potion. I’d only come across it three or four times in the last few months. A small, black pill, the size of a Tic-Tac, it looked innocuous enough, but when placed beneath the tongue, it instantly dissolved, hitting the blood stream relatively quickly. Thissel was also addictive in its sense of euphoria, which could last as long as a few days. The worst side effect to the euphoria, though, was the victim’s inability to keep breathing. Take too much Thissel, and you could end up with permanent brain damage, or comatose.

“I haven’t heard of DragonFire,” I admitted, being careful not drop my guard or allow myself to appear uncomfortable despite his rigorous, penetrating stare. Truly, his incessant wolfish glances were nowhere near as off-putting as all the crap that came out of his mouth.

“That’s because it hasn’t hit the streets here yet,” Jax explained with a quick shrug of his immense shoulders. Pushing against the cell bars, he extended his arms out straight in a stretch. He again reminded me of a large, feral cat in captivity. Definitely an apex predator. “We were working on widespread distribution.”

“What is DragonFire?”

“It’s much more addictive than Thissel,” he said while crossing his large arms over his immense chest. If things were different and I hadn’t been spoken for, or I wasn’t a Regulator, and if he’d never started with his insulting comments, I might have actually considered him attractive.

“Great,” I said, suggesting the polar opposite.

“In fact,” he continued, sounding pedantic, “it’s the most addictive substance available. In every clinical test case we’ve performed, once it’s taken, the user is hopelessly addicted.”

“You’re kidding me, right? You actually test your narcotics?”

“Of course—that’s the only way to know which ones are the most potent; and, therefore, which ones to market.” He paused for a second or two, stifling a few more yawns, before returning his attention to me. “And thus far, DragonFire has exceeded everyone’s expectations, owing to its addictive results upon first ingestion.”

“That’s gotta be good for distribution and, more specifically, for your bank account,” I replied sarcastically.

“DragonFire could revolutionize the whole industry of street potions as we now know them,” he agreed, apparently missing the irony in my voice. “Think about the potential numbers involved when anyone who takes DragonFire is immediately addicted.”

“I already have,” I continued dryly. “The possibilities are endless.”

“Exactly,” Jax concurred.

“So what are its effects? What’s the draw?”

“Nothing,” he replied with a shrug and a smile. “It does absolutely nothing!”

“It does
nothing
?” I repeated, frowning as I shook my head because I wasn’t following him. “What do you mean,
it does nothing
?”

“There’s no reason for it to do anything other than get the user addicted to it,” he explained, taking a seat on the cot again and leaning back against the wall. “If someone tries it once and gets addicted, there’s no need to infuse it with anything else.”

“That makes no sense,” I countered.

“No?” he asked. “Think about it. What is the main goal of all of these rings? What are they really trying to sell? Chemical dependency, of course.”

“Right, but usually that dependency arises from a unique high, which the potion promises to provide. The reason anyone takes a potion is to achieve an otherworldliness; a blissful feeling that only the potion can provide.”

“Right! And the reason someone would try DragonFire is no different.”

I frowned and shook my head. “You just told me it doesn’t give you a high or anything else, for that matter.”

“Exactly! It doesn’t!” he repeated with a large, smirky smile that made me more irritated.

“Okay, so, logically speaking, why would any sane person want to try the stuff if the only thing they can expect is becoming addicted to it?” I asked, voicing the obvious.

“Because most of them won’t know that it doesn’t supply any sort of high until it’s too late. Once they try it, they’re ours for life! The damage is already done. It’s an instant money-maker!”

“But how do you market something that doesn’t provide any stimulation in the first place?” I persisted. I totally failed to see how such a drug could gain any popularity at all. Once one person was victimized, he or she could warn the others. It seemed like the most important drawback was being overlooked, case studies or not.

“What motivates most people?” he asked, and I shook my head. I wasn’t sure where he was headed. “Hope, of course. And hope, my dear, sexy ANC Regulator, is what compels them to get caught in our net.”

“So your plan is to cash in on the chances that people will try DragonFire merely because of the hope that they will like it?” I asked. I wanted to make sure I understood his point. “That seems like a lot of ifs to be betting on, don’t you agree?”

“Well, personally speaking, I have no intention of cashing in on anything. I’m out of the game, remember?” I didn’t respond, so he continued. “But, yes, that’s the idea; and no, it’s not completely illogical at all. The contrary actually. ”

“How do you figure?” I asked, frowning. “What’s stopping a potential user from asking someone who already knows about DragonFire whether or not it’s worth it? Most people get turned on to something by word of mouth. And word of mouth can’t help you in that case.”

“Exactly the opposite, my dear.”

“How so?” I demanded, throwing my hands on my hips in frustration.

“Because as soon as someone tries DragonFire, what does that mean?”

“Instant addiction,” I answered, hating to be quizzed. But Jax was difficult in general, so it came as no surprise. I hated to admit it, but I had a feeling all of his eccentricities were starting to grow on me.

“Right, and if one person is addicted to something, what does that advertise to someone else?” he inquired. His arcane attitude made me want to slap the smirk right off his face.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that our conversation was essential for the bigger good. “That their addiction must be well worth it,” I said softly as his points started to sink in. Only now did I realize how ingenious and insidiously dangerous this new street potion was.

“Exactly,” Jax said with another swashbuckling smile. “So what do you deduce might be the biggest benefit for Crossbones?”

“That you don’t have to experiment with more ways to alter someone’s consciousness,” I answered. “You only have to bother doing the first step of the process, not the second.”

“And she hits the ball right outta the park!” he announced, smiling, despite my frown. “Our sole focus and emphasis on creating DragonFire was the addictive factor. By not spending further time or effort in creating a new high, we instantly saw a huge savings in time and money. The effect, or the high, of the potion is always the sticking point—it’s the part that takes the most amount of time: testing potions, mixing them, finding the strongest ones, and the list goes on. Without that complication, the time it takes from production to market speeds up considerably, and with minimal investment.”

“And what exactly is the minimal investment then?”

“If you’re asking what it is financially, I don’t have an exact figure. But what I can say is that all the proceeds and money are reinvested into assuring the potency and addictiveness of the potion. And our financial responsibility ends there. Once we have the recipe down, it’s just a matter of mass production and distribution.”

“So you do manufacture it yourself?” I asked, jumping on the fact that he’d just answered my next question without even realizing it. Or maybe he had, but didn’t care.

“Yes, we manufacture all of our potions.

“How?”

He shrugged. “We have numerous witches on staff—all highly competent in their craft.”

“And they were the ones responsible for divining the DragonFire recipe until it was as addictive as possible?” I asked, now genuinely curious as to how it all worked. Up until now, I’d only experienced the distribution side of the street potions scene—busting those who sold or used potions on the streets of Splendor. Lacking a lot of experience with the Netherworld in general, I wasn’t familiar with the behind the scenes aspect. This was definitely a learning experience, and then some. Well, that is, if everything Jax was telling me was true. Strangely enough, I did believe him.

He nodded. “We also have some sorcerers and warlocks on staff.”

“Interesting,” I said, mentally filing all the information in my head. I couldn’t wait to inform Knight about everything I’d just learned. But first, I had to finish up with Jax.

“Is it?” he asked, smirking at me. “Do you find me interesting, Ms. O’Neil?”

“You know I do,” I answered without pause. “Your life is very different to mine; but one I need to understand in order to become a better Regulator. So, of course I’m interested in you.” I decided to play the
new cadet
card again, hoping it would somehow help me later. Why? I wasn’t sure; but I went with my gut feeling anyway.

“I find you very interesting, myself.”

“I know, but not for the same reasons that I find you interesting.”

He shrugged before exhaling audibly. “I admit your ANC position is less than thrilling in my eyes, but everything else about you piques my curiosity.”

“I would venture to say the only thing about me that piques your curiosity is what’s inside my pants.”

“That isn’t true,” he argued with a frown. “I find your personality ever so intriguing.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Is that what you tell all the girls?”

“Just the ones I’m serious about… serious about bedding.”

I shook my head again and exhaled audibly as I tried not to let his comments ruffle my feathers. Instead, I tried to play the part of curious. “Do lines like those ever really work because I can’t imagine they would.”

“Lines?” he repeated, appearing puzzled.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” I said with another acidic laugh. I was now well beyond tired of him. “You can’t actually think that I believe any of the crap that just came out of your mouth?”

Jax was spared the need to respond when the ground beneath us started to rumble and sway as if we were in the midst of an earthquake. But this felt very different from a quake, although I couldn’t put my finger on why it was so different. A loud burst reverberated through the air. Moments later, it faded away to silence, as if it had never been.

My heart climbed into my throat as I caught my breath. My wide eyes met Jax’s, but he didn’t look surprised at all. On the contrary, his expression revealed a complete lack of concern.