He was a junkie, and I could smell that strange magic on him.
I leaned forward and let my alpha presence force him into submission. “Who are you working for?”
“Tory. Please, man, she’s the one to talk to. I don’t know nothing. She gave us the address of the motel last night. Said we had to get the redhead.”
I sniffed. He reeked of Red Bull and vodka and sweat, but I also caught the scent of truth. But I was certain Tory wasn’t the ringleader, just another lackey.
“How long have you been working for her?”
“A couple weeks. I met her at the Dirty Hound,” he said.
I tightened my fists, and my knuckles cracked. “Who does she work for?”
“You have no idea what he’ll do to me if I tell you.”
“I’ll do worse.”
“You can’t,” he spat. “If I tell you, the sorcerer will let his fucking demons devour me alive. They don’t just eat blood, man, they suck out your soul. I’d sooner let you tear my skin off, strip by strip, so do your worst.”
Truth.
He was far more afraid of the sorcerer than me. That was bad news. But the man was a junkie, so there might be another way to get information.
I held up the vial. “What is this?”
“Shit, man, I thought I’d lost that. Let me have a taste. Just a drop on my tongue. I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just a couple drops are all I need.”
The freak stuck his tongue out, and I had the urge to slam his jaw up so his teeth cut it in half, but I needed him talking. “Tell me what it is. Then we’ll talk.”
“You haven’t tasted it?” A crazed smile cut his face. “It’s his blood. Sorcery in a bottle. Better than Blow, and I need some. Now.” He strained against the ropes as panic coursed through him. He was losing it.
I gripped his throat. “What does it do? Where do you get it?”
“Tory got it from the sorcerer. I’ve never met him, but he gives us his blood for our services. I’m telling you, man, once you taste it, you’ll see the world in a whole new light. It makes you stronger, faster.”
My breathing stilled. This was how the sorcerer was controlling the wolves? Enchanted, superpowered blood? It explained how the bastards had outrun us, had even outrun Savannah’s car.
Could the LaSalles be manufacturing this, like they did wolfsbane?
“Why did the sorcerer want the redhead?” I snarled.
I doubted the junkie would know, but he was talking, and it was worth a shot.
The bastard writhed. “Don’t you get it? It’s all about the blood.”
“I don’t care what he was going to give you, why did he want her?”
“The blood, man, like I said. He wanted her for her blood. It’s like his. He could make more of the Blow shit. That’s why we couldn’t just kill her.”
My mind spun, and Regina and Tony eyed me. I gave a low growl.
Not a word about this to anyone.
They dipped their heads in acquiescence. The last thing we needed was word spreading through the packs about Savannah’s blood.
I’d known there was something different—special—about Savannah, but her blood? Worry churned in my gut. The junkie had said that her blood was like the sorcerer’s. Did that mean they were related?
LaSalles.