Page 41 of Draco's Fire

That seemed like a fair question. Some of the old equipment was covered in dust; some seemed to be destroyed entirely. The pair continued into the bowels of the building, taking back staircases and dark hallways toward the innermost depths of the old company.

When they entered a large inner atrium, Shayla and Tyson found a small congregation of homeless men huddled around a fire they’d built in the company’s once-grand fountain. The men’s attention snapped toward the approaching couple.

“Hello,” Tyson said warmly; Shayla tightened her jaw and sized the men up.

Once they were all face to face, Shayla was fairly certain that the men were no threat. “Do you live here?” Shayla asked tersely.

One of the men nodded; the others simply shifted on their feet.

“What do you know about what goes on here?” she asked.

The man who had nodded looked surprised. His eyebrows shot up and he said, “It used to be some sort of pharmaceutical business. It’s shut down now.” He stretched his arms out and gestured to the dark, empty building around them.

“I know that much,” Shayla continued in a low tone. “What do you know about whatstillgoes on here?”

All of the men furrowed their brows—even the one who didn’t seem afraid to speak to them. “Don’t know a thing,” the leader said.

Shayla crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “Really?” she countered dubiously. “You never see anyone here? No one who looks out of place?”

Several of the men turned away from the conversation to face the fire; they talked quietly among themselves but were obviously not interested in speaking to Shayla. “No,” the speaking man said with enough grit that Tyson placed a hand on Shayla’s shoulder to turn her away.

“Thank you for your time,” Tyson said, though his tone had gone a bit dark as well. Shayla knew there was no question that the two of them could force information out of these men, but she also knew that Tyson would never resort to violence in order to get answers.

They walked quickly away from the small camp, toward the only wing of the building they hadn’t yet explored. Shayla knew they’d find something—theyhadto find something, it was her only hope of avenging the attack.

“It’s possible there’s nothing here,” Tyson said, his voice kinder than when he’d spoken last. “It’s possible there’sno onehere. At least no one else.” He jerked his chin back toward the men they’d just passed.

Shayla simply shook her head, keeping her jaw tight and her eyes on high alert.

“Shayla,” Tyson said, grabbing her hand to halt her. “This is the last area we haven’t searched. If we don’t find anything here, can you promise me we’ll go? Can you put this behind you?”

Deep down, Shayla knew she could make no such promise. She couldn’t just let this go. Still, Tyson had a point—if they didn’t find the killer here, where else could she look?

She’d seen tire marks outside this building that matched an unusual tread pattern she found near the rally. Moreover, there was nowhere else that could manufacture the type of toxin that nearly killed Tyson. Perhaps most importantly, Shayla’s fae aura detection was growing progressively more certain that the person who’d tried to kill Tyson before was nearby.

Instead of arguing with Tyson and wasting precious time, Shayla simply said, “Let’s just keep going.”

Tyson squeezed her hand once more, but didn’t protest further. They pressed on down the corridor; there were labs on both sides of them, but they appeared abandoned.

Shayla didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but she felt she’d know it when she saw it. Finally, at the end of the hallway, she saw a small lab that appeared clean and tidy.

The room was entirely out of place in this building that was otherwise near ruin. It was clear that someone had used this equipment recently; her senses screamed that this was the place they’d been searching for.

Stepping cautiously inside the room, Shayla and Tyson looked weerily at the vials that lined the shelves. They were no doubt full of the same type of toxin that had taken Tyson down at the rally.

Shayla stepped toward the wall and lifted her arm to touch the glass case covering the vials, but she was suddenly struck with something heavy and painful. The pain seared her skin; it rendered her powerless.

Blinking away the shock, Shayla realized a net had dropped on her. Judging by the way it impacted her body and her powers, she had no doubt it was woven with iron threads. She crumpled to the ground, trying desperately to lift the net. No matter how she struggled, her strength was practically nonexistent thanks to the iron.

Just when she thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, an abrasive noise like a fire alarm began to sound throughout the room. It pierced Shayla’s ears so violently that she knew it was an iron bell—the attacker had planned this well.

Shayla covered her ears, but the sound was so distracting that she couldn’t even begin to think about using magic. Her head felt scrambled and useless. She turned to Tyson with questioning eyes; she didn’t know what to do.

Tyson backed into the other corner of the room, obviously sizing up the space to try and shift. It was no use—the lab was far too small, and if Tyson shifted, he would certainly crush Shayla in the process.

This realization dawning on both of them, Tyson darted swiftly toward Shayla, apparently ready to try and lift the iron net himself. As Tyson reached his arm out to Shayla, a darkened figure appeared in the doorway.

“Stop,” Shayla tried to cry out, but her voice only emerged as a hoarse whisper. Tyson twisted his face in confusion, but the figure approached in a split second and knocked Tyson over the head with some sort of metallic weapon.

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