his empty machine and helpedher ransack desk drawers. They found a number of little green vials, some filled, some not, but there was no sign of standard-sized perfume flacons.
Io commented on it. “Could there be another lab underground? Or a storeroom you missed?”
“Possibly. I had to be a little discreet while ghosting around during working hours. It could also be that supplies just haven’t arrived yet. They certainly seem set up for bottling here.”
“Yes, they do.”
“Well, this haul will do as a starter. It’s time to leave. Whose lab shall it be? Yours or mine?” Jack asked, holding a vial up to the window. It didn’t have a skull and crossbones on it, but that didn’t mean anything. Goblins didn’t believe in truth in labeling any more than they believed in public safety or the sanctity of life.
“It had better be yours. Though she told me to be alert to them, Xanthe doesn’t believe the importance of the drugs in the ventilation system, and she isn’t real interested in Neveling’s perfume endeavors.” Io bit her lip and cursed inwardly for forgetting about the truth spell. She couldn’t lie to Jack, but that didn’t mean that she had to answer him and spill her guts. Silence was an option she needed to use.
“Suits me. But you hold on to this for now,” Jack said, handing her his vial and then pulling open the file cabinet. “There is one last thing I want to do. Keep an eye out, especially on the street, on the manhole covers. We’ve been in here too long. Somegoblin is going to come by eventually.”
Io turned toward the window and cracked open the louvers. “No guards yet. All I see are a pair of addicts.”
“Watch them. We don’t want them deciding to break into the building and setting off the alarm. What kind are they?”
“The worst. They’ve sold everything but their souls for ‘the bitterness without name,’ ” Io murmured, looking out the window at the pathetic scene unfolding below. Two addicts were kneeling in the street, scooping up bits of dry goblin-fruit pulp left from the previous night’s street faire and stuffing it in their mouths with filthy hands. When the larger pieces were gone, they leaned down and licked the pavement. Io added to herself, “Except it has a name and we all know it: goblin fruit. Why haven’t the police outlawed it?”
Jack answered. “The police don’t make the laws. The politicians do. And you know why they don’t outlaw it,” he said impatiently.
“Money.”
“Yes.”
“It’s so wrong though,” Io whispered. “Look at them. This should never happen.”
“They are truly imp-ridden,” Jack agreed, glancing outside. Then, turning back to the file cabinet he added, “Stay back from the glass. You don’t want to be seen.”
The bigger addict—a girl with matted hair aswhite as moonlight and a face that was skeletally thin—ran out of crushed fruit leavings. Seeing the smears on the other girl’s dress, she fell on her. Mewling, she squeezed the smaller addict’s juice-stained garment. She seemed to be trying to wring fluid from the fabric and didn’t care if she got a bit of the girl inside.
The smaller addict laughed in a drugged voice—until she felt her assailant’s teeth on her belly. Then, howling, she shoved the other girl away. Rolling to her feet she stood panting for a moment, and then distracted by the juice stains on her hand, she stuck her fingers in her mouth and started suckling. Her eyes went blank.
The first girl huddled on the ground shaking, and then gave in to cries of despair as the other ran away. She didn’t seem to notice that she was drooling as she cried.
Io made a small noise.
“What is it?” Jack asked, moving swiftly to the window.
“Jack,” Io whispered, moved to compassion for the wretched creature below that was barely still human. “I know it’s stupid, but couldn’t you…?”
“No. Don’t even think it.”
“Please. I…I can’t stand her keening. I just
Io commented on it. “Could there be another lab underground? Or a storeroom you missed?”
“Possibly. I had to be a little discreet while ghosting around during working hours. It could also be that supplies just haven’t arrived yet. They certainly seem set up for bottling here.”
“Yes, they do.”
“Well, this haul will do as a starter. It’s time to leave. Whose lab shall it be? Yours or mine?” Jack asked, holding a vial up to the window. It didn’t have a skull and crossbones on it, but that didn’t mean anything. Goblins didn’t believe in truth in labeling any more than they believed in public safety or the sanctity of life.
“It had better be yours. Though she told me to be alert to them, Xanthe doesn’t believe the importance of the drugs in the ventilation system, and she isn’t real interested in Neveling’s perfume endeavors.” Io bit her lip and cursed inwardly for forgetting about the truth spell. She couldn’t lie to Jack, but that didn’t mean that she had to answer him and spill her guts. Silence was an option she needed to use.
“Suits me. But you hold on to this for now,” Jack said, handing her his vial and then pulling open the file cabinet. “There is one last thing I want to do. Keep an eye out, especially on the street, on the manhole covers. We’ve been in here too long. Somegoblin is going to come by eventually.”
Io turned toward the window and cracked open the louvers. “No guards yet. All I see are a pair of addicts.”
“Watch them. We don’t want them deciding to break into the building and setting off the alarm. What kind are they?”
“The worst. They’ve sold everything but their souls for ‘the bitterness without name,’ ” Io murmured, looking out the window at the pathetic scene unfolding below. Two addicts were kneeling in the street, scooping up bits of dry goblin-fruit pulp left from the previous night’s street faire and stuffing it in their mouths with filthy hands. When the larger pieces were gone, they leaned down and licked the pavement. Io added to herself, “Except it has a name and we all know it: goblin fruit. Why haven’t the police outlawed it?”
Jack answered. “The police don’t make the laws. The politicians do. And you know why they don’t outlaw it,” he said impatiently.
“Money.”
“Yes.”
“It’s so wrong though,” Io whispered. “Look at them. This should never happen.”
“They are truly imp-ridden,” Jack agreed, glancing outside. Then, turning back to the file cabinet he added, “Stay back from the glass. You don’t want to be seen.”
The bigger addict—a girl with matted hair aswhite as moonlight and a face that was skeletally thin—ran out of crushed fruit leavings. Seeing the smears on the other girl’s dress, she fell on her. Mewling, she squeezed the smaller addict’s juice-stained garment. She seemed to be trying to wring fluid from the fabric and didn’t care if she got a bit of the girl inside.
The smaller addict laughed in a drugged voice—until she felt her assailant’s teeth on her belly. Then, howling, she shoved the other girl away. Rolling to her feet she stood panting for a moment, and then distracted by the juice stains on her hand, she stuck her fingers in her mouth and started suckling. Her eyes went blank.
The first girl huddled on the ground shaking, and then gave in to cries of despair as the other ran away. She didn’t seem to notice that she was drooling as she cried.
Io made a small noise.
“What is it?” Jack asked, moving swiftly to the window.
“Jack,” Io whispered, moved to compassion for the wretched creature below that was barely still human. “I know it’s stupid, but couldn’t you…?”
“No. Don’t even think it.”
“Please. I…I can’t stand her keening. I just
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