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

by H. P. Mallory

  “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 p
lay 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.

  SIX

  “What the hell was that?” I asked Jax as soon as the rumbling died down. My heart was tightly lodged in my throat, but still pounding like an SOB. I was panting so hard, I was finding it hard to breathe.

  “An earthquake?” he asked, but his lack of surprise or concern threw me. Furthermore, I didn’t see any fear or anxiety in his eyes, which I found odd.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, studying him pointedly.

  But he simply shrugged as if he didn’t have an answer for me and wasn’t concerned enough to try to find one. His reaction initially struck me as strange, but I was too nervous to focus on it, or him. Instead, I glanced to my left and then to my right in an attempt to take stock of the room. Nothing seemed to be damaged as far as I could tell.

  As soon as I looked back at Jax, the floor beneath me started to heave back and forth, then up and down. This time, I was a little more convinced that we could have been experiencing an earthquake, since the rumbling seemed faintly familiar. Wally’s chair began to skip forward from the end of the hallway, and the pixie’s cage swung back and forth violently, knocking her from one side to the other. I worried that it might pop itself right off the hook, which was coming out of the ceiling.

  “Get me the hell outta here!” she screamed in her helium voice, as she clung to the bars of her tiny prison and beat her wings frantically.

  Meanwhile, the two weres in the holding cells located at the front of the hallway were also getting understandably freaked out.

  “What the hell is that sound?” One of them yelled out, his tone revealing his panic.

  “Earthquake!” the other one answered and due to my keen sense of smell, I could detect their increased perspiration. They both smelled earthier than usual.

  “Let me out of this cage!” the pixie continued, but I couldn’t say my mind was on either the pixie or the weres. Instead, I was trying to figure out just what the hell was going on because I still wasn’t convinced we’d just experienced an earthquake.

  There was no sign of Wally, Ernie, or Judah, which was probably a good thing. Hopefully, they’d found cover, or were somewhere safer than here.

  “It sounds like the rumbling stopped,” I said as I faced Jax, who still looked completely unconcerned, bored even. Neither of us said anything else for the span of a few seconds as I stood stock still, testing the truth in my words. I looked down at the floor, studying it for a moment or two before I glanced back up at the walls, trying to detect if they were still moving. They didn’t appear to be.

  I returned my attention to Jax, who remained very solemn. No sooner did my eyes meet his than the floor started to shake again, making a horrible grinding noise as it did so. Jax immediately grasped onto the iron bars to remain upright. As the floor swayed beneath us, going up and then down again, my knees buckled before my legs flew out from underneath me. The floor suddenly shoved me forward and I was hurled headlong into the wall, landing beside Jax’s cell. I had to brace myself for the impact with both arms against the wall to avoid breaking my neck or nose.

  “Are you okay?” he called out, finally looking worried.

  “I’m fine,” I said as I tried to stand up but it suddenly felt like someone was pulling me backwards into the room with a pair of invisible hands. I started to trip over my own feet again and had to right myself against the wall, trying to stand in place long enough to plan my way back to Jax.

  Regaining my balance, however, was nearly impossible when the ground continued to rumble and buckle beneath me like a feral horse. I fell over again, this time, landing on my butt. I was so freaked out, I couldn’t register any pain and wasn’t even sure if I was hurt or not.

  Immediately rolling over, I got onto my hands and knees, assuming my chances for getting hurt decreased the closer to the ground I was. I inched forward, heading for Jax’s cell. My only thought was to get us both to safety.

  When I reached his cell, I tried to right myself again, but the floor kept swaying and rolling to such an extent, it made it impossible to stand up.

  “Look to your right!” Jax yelled out as I glanced over my shoulder, only to see Wally’s chair flying past me, one of its legs narrowly missing my head. It crashed into the wall at the far end of the room.

  Dulcie, you have to take cover! I told myself.

  The only problem was that there weren’t any tables under which I could shelter myself, and the doorway to the hall was a long way off, which meant I wouldn’t be able to secure myself inside the door frame.

  “Just grab hold of the bars,” Jax interjected, his voice much louder than the grumbling, angry quake. “Nothing in the room can hurt you because it’s all fastened down.”

  “You mean aside from that chair that nearly knocked me out?” I ground out while struggling beside the wall. The floor was rolling back and forth, but also jerking from side-to-side, and out from underneath me. It was impossible to walk, almost impossible even to stand up.

  “Yes, aside from that,” Jax answered. His smile seemed too nonchalant, given what was going on. “The only other thing to worry about are the lights in the ceiling; but those seem to be still intact. Grab the bars and hold on tight; you’re about to have the ride of your life!”

  Considering his was the only option I had, I leapt forward and wrapped my fingers around the bars in front of me. Just then the ground buckled beneath me and I felt myself drop. I tightened my grip around the bars and gradually lifted myself back up. Barely a half second later, the ground heaved upward again, and I worried my head would ram into the ceiling. My stomach climbed up into my throat and dropped again just as fast, making me feel sick. The vertigo reminded me of how it feels when you drive up and down a twisting, mountainous road at too high a speed.

  “Woo hoo!” Jax yelled with a laugh that seemed way too excited, given the circumstances.

  “What is wrong with you?” I screamed at him.

  “The Gods must be pissed that I’m locked up!” he yelled back with an outstretched smile, his voice barely audible over the din in the room.

  I couldn’t respond because it felt like the floor was ready to give out beneath me. Gripping the bars of Jax’s cell as tightly as I could, I hoisted myself upright again. I tried to
catch my breath and tried even harder to stay standing, despite the ground breaking up and bucking beneath me.

  “I got you now,” he said. “Just don’t let go,” Jax said as he covered my hands with his and pushed his weight against them, obviously trying to keep me secured in place.

  I didn’t take a whole lot of relief from his comment though. If the seesawing activity of the ground got any worse, there was no way I could remain steady. And I doubted that Jax had a good enough grip on me to make him any more successful.

  “Put your feet on the bars like I’m doing,” he said. Glancing down, I noticed he was keeping the soles of his feet on the side of the bars. It looked like he was climbing on them like some sort of tree-dwelling animal. “You’ll have to support the weight of your body with your arms,” he explained.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to manage that,” I admitted. My upper body strength was definitely inferior to my lower.

  “You have no other choice,” he answered calmly, narrowing his eyes on me in a serious expression. “The bars are the only things in the room that aren’t moving.”

  On that point, it seemed he was correct. I checked out the floor again, and even though it didn’t seem like the rumbling had gained any momentum, the ground continued to rise and fall beneath us as if we were on the sea, at the mercy of the waves. The incessant bobbing motion made it nearly impossible for my feet to gain any purchase on the bars, but I continued to try.

  “This is no earthquake!” I shouted, shaking my head as I faced Jax again. He just looked at me vacantly, not bothering to respond. But, really, he didn’t have to say anything because I was already convinced we were dealing with something else. As a native Californian, I’d had my share of earthquakes, and knew what to expect—usually a sudden jolt, followed by violent shaking that lasted for several long seconds.

  But this shaking was very different. It was a rolling vibration that pulsed and throbbed through the ground beneath us. And it had been going on now for a few minutes, not seconds. It almost felt like something huge was beneath the floor, trying to escape, and causing the floor to arch up and drop back down again. Almost like a plow tilling the earth, but upside down.