8
Serin parted the drizzling rain so she could see the street number of the darkened storefront. The windows of number thirty-seven were so crowded she couldn’t see the room behind them—just like Loki described.
Once she ‘guessed’ the intel he was feeding her was not for Puck’s location, but for one of his associates, Loki’s tongue had loosened. He described how to find the obscure antique store buried in the diamond district, giving up the idea of going with her when she reminded him that he was all dressed up with better places to go.
Merde. Serin knew something was wrong as soon as she opened the door. The coppery metallic scent hit her like a rogue wave, out of place and overwhelming. A lot of blood had been spilled. It was too strong for a minor household accident. This pronounced
