well, as she wanted to talk to Daryl privately.
"Before I went into the backyard . . ." Daryl began, lowering his voice. He apparently didn't want anyone else to hear. "There were these weird dudes who showed up at the place. Steve didn't know how they got past the gate, because no one we knew had opened it. You have to do it from a button at the front door, or in the kitchen. There's a speaker for an intercom there, too. Anyway, they were in leather and chains, which really isn't our style, and looked scary. Steve tried to throw them out. They had this little bag of something, some drugs, and they spread it all around. Steve decided to let them stay."
"What was this stuff?" Sammi said.
"Well, I didn't get a good look at it. I didn't even touch it. But it was this little black-stoppered vial. Never seen black stoppers before."
She knew what he was talking about. Black Dream. Were those Unseleighe elves who crashed the party last night?
"Okay, Daryl, you're not in any trouble. But I need to know about these guys. I think they're passing bad drugs. How many were there?"
The boy looked around the corner, toward the kitchen. "Bad drugs? Never thought of that. Well, there were four, I think. One of them was big and blond, with chains connected to his wrist and waist. He had a pierced nose. Diamond stud in it. Something like that."
"You said four. Any names?"
Daryl seemed to really consider this. "Don't think so. I mean, I didn't hear any. I got pissed off or something right around then, that's when I went into the backyard." He looked up at her and said with conviction when their eyes met, "Honest, Mrs. McDaris. I didn't tell those other cops because they've been so shitty to me."
She saw, for a moment, the boy she once knew. The old Daryl stumbled through the druggy murk just long enough for some sincerity to leak through. And she believed him.
"Well, you'd better start being a little more cooperative," she said. "I know you have the right to remain silent, but if you start turning in some names right about now, it could go easier on you."
"Don't ask me to do that," Daryl said resolutely. "I won't do that."
"Yeah, I know," she said, standing. "They'll kill you if you do. Great friends you have there, Daryl."
Daryl squirmed so much she thought he would fall out of the chair. "Let me think about it. I might tell you, but not those guys. Think you could go see what they have on me?"
Looking out for his own hide, she thought angrily. After nineteen of his friends just died. She studied him for a long time, trying to figure out if he was being honest or had gotten much better at lying. She might have touched his mind with elven magic to get to the truth immediately, but to do so might alert any Unseleighe in the area. With no other choice, she assumed that for the time being he was on the level.
"I'll go see what they have," she said. "But if they haven't found anything by now, they probably won't. But this isn't your house, Daryl. How do you know you cleaned out everything?"
Daryl turned paler than pale.
Sammi went into the kitchen to talk with the others. Daryl heard her make a wry comment about the vomit in the sink and accused Roach of having a weak stomach.
Meanwhile, bugs started to crawl up Daryl's legs. He squirmed and scratched, and lifted his pants leg up to see if there really were bugs, but it was only the hangover. If he didn't go party somewhere soon, it would get much worse.
After the brief chat in the kitchen, Sammi left without confirming whether or not they found anything to charge him with.
A moment later, Roach came into the dining room and dropped a baggie of white powder on the table in front of him.
"Got any idea what that is, kiddo?"
Daryl eyed the baggie like a starving man would a steak.
That looks really good. Wonder if they'll let me do any of it?
The other, logical part of him started to get frightened. Oh, no. I'm going to jail after all. Where the
"Before I went into the backyard . . ." Daryl began, lowering his voice. He apparently didn't want anyone else to hear. "There were these weird dudes who showed up at the place. Steve didn't know how they got past the gate, because no one we knew had opened it. You have to do it from a button at the front door, or in the kitchen. There's a speaker for an intercom there, too. Anyway, they were in leather and chains, which really isn't our style, and looked scary. Steve tried to throw them out. They had this little bag of something, some drugs, and they spread it all around. Steve decided to let them stay."
"What was this stuff?" Sammi said.
"Well, I didn't get a good look at it. I didn't even touch it. But it was this little black-stoppered vial. Never seen black stoppers before."
She knew what he was talking about. Black Dream. Were those Unseleighe elves who crashed the party last night?
"Okay, Daryl, you're not in any trouble. But I need to know about these guys. I think they're passing bad drugs. How many were there?"
The boy looked around the corner, toward the kitchen. "Bad drugs? Never thought of that. Well, there were four, I think. One of them was big and blond, with chains connected to his wrist and waist. He had a pierced nose. Diamond stud in it. Something like that."
"You said four. Any names?"
Daryl seemed to really consider this. "Don't think so. I mean, I didn't hear any. I got pissed off or something right around then, that's when I went into the backyard." He looked up at her and said with conviction when their eyes met, "Honest, Mrs. McDaris. I didn't tell those other cops because they've been so shitty to me."
She saw, for a moment, the boy she once knew. The old Daryl stumbled through the druggy murk just long enough for some sincerity to leak through. And she believed him.
"Well, you'd better start being a little more cooperative," she said. "I know you have the right to remain silent, but if you start turning in some names right about now, it could go easier on you."
"Don't ask me to do that," Daryl said resolutely. "I won't do that."
"Yeah, I know," she said, standing. "They'll kill you if you do. Great friends you have there, Daryl."
Daryl squirmed so much she thought he would fall out of the chair. "Let me think about it. I might tell you, but not those guys. Think you could go see what they have on me?"
Looking out for his own hide, she thought angrily. After nineteen of his friends just died. She studied him for a long time, trying to figure out if he was being honest or had gotten much better at lying. She might have touched his mind with elven magic to get to the truth immediately, but to do so might alert any Unseleighe in the area. With no other choice, she assumed that for the time being he was on the level.
"I'll go see what they have," she said. "But if they haven't found anything by now, they probably won't. But this isn't your house, Daryl. How do you know you cleaned out everything?"
Daryl turned paler than pale.
Sammi went into the kitchen to talk with the others. Daryl heard her make a wry comment about the vomit in the sink and accused Roach of having a weak stomach.
Meanwhile, bugs started to crawl up Daryl's legs. He squirmed and scratched, and lifted his pants leg up to see if there really were bugs, but it was only the hangover. If he didn't go party somewhere soon, it would get much worse.
After the brief chat in the kitchen, Sammi left without confirming whether or not they found anything to charge him with.
A moment later, Roach came into the dining room and dropped a baggie of white powder on the table in front of him.
"Got any idea what that is, kiddo?"
Daryl eyed the baggie like a starving man would a steak.
That looks really good. Wonder if they'll let me do any of it?
The other, logical part of him started to get frightened. Oh, no. I'm going to jail after all. Where the
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