Vice and Void (The Savage Wolves Brotherhood #1)

5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dakota

“ W e aren’t talking about this again,” Dakota said as she hitched the strap of her canvas work bag over her shoulder. “There’s no point in going over it.”

John Montgomery placed his hands on the white marble counter, leaning under the stainless steel pendant lights above the kitchen island. “It took Ethan Sullivan hours to get that reservation. I watched him make the calls. The least you could do is—“

“Ethan Sullivan is a creep,” Dakota sighed, grabbing her keys off the hook in the hallway. “You don’t need to defend him.”

“I may not need to defend him, but keeping an eye on you is making itself out to be a full-time fucking job, Dakota. You’re back two weeks, and Callum—“

“Don’t. Don’t go there. Not now, not ever.”

Her father tapped a single finger against the counter. “You ran from that bay like you'd seen a ghost. Your first trauma and you flew out of there without a glance behind you.”

It was possible that she had seen a ghost. Twelve years had gone by, and still, her heart skipped a beat or two, and her stomach plummeted to her feet at the sight of him. Dakota let out a long exhale and gave a half-shrug. “You don’t have to remind me. I was there.” As was James, who, unfortunately, had to step in the moment she bolted from the trauma bay. The apology she had given him in the hours afterward was lengthy and layered, yet she still didn’t manage to say anything that would cover the complicated mess that was her and Ace McCoy. And she didn't bother touching on the topic of Callum.

“Ethan’s a good man,” John said with an egotistical edge to his tone that suggested his opinion on the matter should mean a great deal to Dakota. “He’s responsible. He’s a Ranger. He wants to spend time with you—”

“My definition of wanting to spend time with someone doesn't include chasing them down while they're at work.” And can’t run away was the unspoken end to that sentence, which her father caught onto.

“He's done a lot to earn your affection. Your mother would be ashamed of how you’re behaving.”

The statement twisted like a knife to her gut, but she only lifted her chin higher. “Thanks. Maybe that’s what I’ll moan in his ear when he’s fucking me for the first time.”

The words were out of Dakota's mouth before she realized she said them. The bulging vein in John’s forehead pulsed dangerously, and the shade of puce he turned sent her scrambling through the front door. Nausea-inducing mortification followed her on a phantom wind. These days, she avoided saying anything that worked up her father, but the reappearance of Callum had awoken something in her that clawed to get out. And she hated herself for it.

The late summer heat sweltered the downtown district where her father’s townhouse was built. Dakota had been raised in the brick-faced building, the span of brownstones stretching the entirety of the block. It was expensive enough, exclusive even, and the laughably small flower gardens landscaping the sidewalk were some of the only ones in the heart of the city. Horns honked as they sped through the multi-lane traffic, and business professionals hurried past with their cell phones held tightly to their ears.

Dakota didn’t see the beauty in the city, as some of the tourists with their cameras pressed against their faces did. No, she saw the trash that rolled in the gutters, the flutter of entertainment flyers that papered light poles and electricity boxes, and the scaffolding that always seemed to cover the outside of the buildings. The air was polluted with car exhaust and body odor, and the heat waves from the concrete did nothing to stem any of it.

A summer storm was rolling in, and the dark clouds that formed above the downtown skyscrapers had already begun casting shadows over the bright sun. She shouldn’t have walked and would certainly be leaving the Guildhall amongst the rain, but the thought of clambering into a hot car only made her skin crawl. The city was a prison, her father’s townhouse a cell within it, and it was already threatening to tear her apart.

“The distills from the full moon look lovely,” James said from his desk, pulling Dakota from her thoughts. She lifted her head to glance up at him, unsurprised to see that he was carefully inspecting the vials of Pain that had been distilled the night before.

She forced a small smile, slowly closing the leather journal she had been pretending to study. “I’ve started prepping the poppy seed pods for the next full moon.” At the Norwich Guildhall, odd months were used to distill Pain, while even months were used to distill Euphoric. The viscous, milky oil would take nearly a month to extract from the unripe seeds before the distillation process could begin.

“Excellent,” James replied with a nod as he set the vial back into the glass case behind his desk. “Dakota, do you know why we use the celestial events to enhance the distills?”

Dakota propped her chin on her fist, a thoughtful frown turning down the corners of her lips. It was a question that she would have seen on an entry-level exam, and she wondered where he was going with it. “The celestial events drove how the Banished Gods were prayed to and, in turn, how the gods answered them. Their magic is most powerful under the influence of their respective cosmic occurrences.”

James sank into the seat behind his desk. “Precisely. Those who prayed to Ilios could gain insight during the full moon. Those who prayed to Kynetos, the God of the Body, would ask for healing and protection during the new moon. Others would pray for their deceased loved ones to Nekros, the God of the Soul, during powerful events like the equinox and solstice. Each bit of the magic in their blood was carefully aligned with nature, as were the miracles they performed. Once their blood was spilled on the battlefield and soaked into the plant life, it changed the cellular make-up of those plants.”

“Would you consider that evolution, sir? Or a mutation?”

It was James’s turn to smile. “What is evolution if not a series of mutations that, if successful, only increases the value of life? We see it in humans, how DNA shifts to lead the species forward. Thanks to the science behind it, we use those natural advancements in our everyday lives.”

Dakota ran a finger along her bottom lip. “If I may ask—where are you going with this, sir? Evolution and mutations are two things I certainly don’t mind discussing, but the subject matter revolving around the complexity of plant versus human life is…” She trailed off, not wanting to seem precocious. The pedestal insult Ace had hurled at her in the trauma bay was still fresh.

James leaned back in his seat, scrutinizing her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “Have you ever considered experimenting on the distills you work with?”

Dakota stilled and was acutely aware of the tenseness pulling her shoulders to her ears. While the journal she had been working on lay between her elbows, she tempered the instinct to glance down at it. “Experimenting on distills is illegal, sir.”

“Yes, it is,” he responded matter-of-factly. “But…science and the betterment of it requires sacrifice. As does any old magic that lingers in the distills.” He glanced down at his watch, and Dakota felt a renewed lightness at the removal of his stare. “Time flies. It’s almost dinner! My wife will have my head on a spike if I’m late another day this week.”

Dakota’s tense shoulders fully relaxed as he stood and grabbed his briefcase from under his desk. “Couldn’t have that, could we?”

He tapped his temple with a finger before pointing at her. “I hope you’re lucky enough one day that a late arrival for dinner is the worst thing to happen in your marriage.”

“I’m sure I’ll experience it.”

James waved her a quick goodbye before hustling out of the distillery, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. Then, she was alone.

The steady drip of the oil pressing from the poppy seed pods overtook the silence. Each clink against the glass of the distillation equipment was a gunshot. Dakota looked down at the journal and flicked it open to the ingredient list for Blood Replenishing. The annual meteor shower was scheduled for late fall, and while the poppy seed oil for the Euphoric distills was being processed, it was time she looked ahead to when the yarrow flowers needed to be procured.

The autumn equinox, on the other hand, was fast approaching. Dakota flipped through the pages, pausing when she found the coded secrets of her own distill. Something James said sent a spark of realization flaring in her mind. But even that was quickly overtaken by uncertainty, which bled into every scrap of knowledge she had learned over the last twelve years. She was already pushing the boundaries of the law, but this distill could change everything. It could change the world as they knew it. It could change how they approached healing.

Dakota picked up the pen resting by her forearm and tapped the end of it on the edge of the journal. Battling through the mix of unease and anxiety that churned her stomach, she swallowed her nerves and wrote the words on the top of the page. Magic requires sacrifice .