Illeana knows that James has been taking a backseat to her magical work these months. First there was Sam's apprenticeship, making sure that he had the skills and mental disposition to survive on his own. Then there were all the other instances where Illeana had chased James out of the RV for days at a time so that she could concentrate in her magical lodge. She was doing it for him - for them - working out the secrets of the universe that might extend James' lifespan to match Illeana's. I can't ask him to spend a month in the swamp, she thinks to herself. There's nothing for him out here except communicable diseases. Plus, James had just had a minor outburst the other night in the plaza. Nothing major, but enough so that Illeana doesn't want to push him unnecessarily.
<<@James I can visit astrally, or she can visit me. This will just give me that much more motivation to summon a spirit that can create an astral gateway.>>
She sighs, perhaps daunted by the complexity of the task.
<<It isn't easy. It's mostly associated with insect spirits and shedim. I wonder if that's why the shedim love New Orleans so much. In addition to the availability of cadavers, you have the Mississippi, which is semi-Awakened, that creates an environment where crossing over from one side to the other is that much easier.>>
The mention of shedim and insects spirits makes James pause. It sounds like risky research to say the least.
<<Great Form spirits can create astral rifts too>> she says to help allay his fears that she might be dabbling in darker arts on his behalf. <<It's just that I don't know the right metamagic to invoke them. It's going to take a lot of work. Every initiation is harder than the last.>>
The boat is loaded and Holly begins to steer back in the direction of civilization. She does an impressive job of keeping one hand on the controls and one hand on her Alpha. James can see the white grip of her knuckles.
During the ride, Illeana investigates the key that James slit open. She wets her finger and dabs it into the white powder, bringing it up closer to her eyes for inspection. It looks like she's about to sniff it, or taste it.
"Is that a good idea?!" Holly shouts over the noise of the airboat fans. James sees the Alpha begin to raise slightly, causing him to tense.
"I'll be fine!" Illeana shouts back with a barely-concealed smirk. She turns her back to Holly, mostly so that she can covertly put her finger underneath her mask without the finger disappearing into the "face" of her masking spell. She sniffs the powder, then taps it with her tongue. She spits it out to avoid ingesting it.
"It's sweet!" she announces, again projecting her voice to be heard over the rushing air. James wonders if there's some sort of business smuggling sugar into the country from the Carib League? Cane sugar isn't particularly rare or valuable, is it?
"It's powder, not crystals, so it's not sugar!" Illeana continues. It's clear that her interest is piqued.
Holly eases off the throttle suddenly. The boat starts to coast. It's much quieter without the racing wind. "Sweet, you say?" she asks. She pauses. "It might be Fight Milk. Newest rage in underground fighting arenas. Rumor is that it started in Tenochtitlan, although I've also heard Las Vegas. The fact that we have a boat full of it from somewhere down south suggests Tenochtitlan though."
James knows that various combat drugs get popular every few years - first it was Kamikaze, then it was the Blood of Kali - but he hasn't heard of Fight Milk.
"It starts with powdered milk for calcium and powdered egg for protein. I'm not making this up. Then they add Cram and Ripper."
James knows that one. "Synthetic steroids, pseudolipids, sugars, and amphetamines. It's potent."
Holly raises an eyebrow, perhaps wondering if James is a connoisseur. That might explain his temper, and his strength. "It also has a 'secret ingredient' that evidently triggers frothing at the mouth and a desire to bite."
James and Illeana exchange a look. Holly is eyeing Illeana as if she might start biting. (She might, but not for the reason that Holly thinks.)
"Then they rehydrate it with tequila or mezcal, you slam it, and away you go," Holly finishes.
"What does it retail for?" Illeana asks.
"¥200 a glass."
Everyone glances around. You're sitting on a lot of kilos that represent a lot of glasses of Fight Milk. That might explain the submarine, and the relatively competent crew of mercs hired to transport it.
"It hasn't really caught on recreationally yet, except with the thrill-kill gangers. Most of them end up dead and on the dinner table after picking a fight with a Ghoul Cab. But those that survive the night become local legends."
James thinks about the Sangre y Acero angle. "Maybe they're selling it to fund their operations. Or maybe they're using it to dose their operatives before they go on an Azzie killing spree. Or both."
Holly nods, agreeing.
"This is my stop," she announces, as the airboat drifts toward the shore. "It's been wiz and all. I'm going to dip overboard and sit on the bottom of the lake for a bit. You get half a klick away, you should be out of signal range for the grenades."
She grabs one of the packaged keys and tucks it under her arm. "My retirement-slash-start-a-new-life-fund. Peace out." James is pretty sure he hears her add "psychos" under her breath right before she flips backward over the edge of the boat. There's a splash, and then she's gone in the murk.
James takes the helm and begins piloting the boat toward Stevens, the RV.
"Chui, get me those grenades," Illeana asks. The bobbing spirit nods and emerges with a clip of HE grenades a few moments later. "Can you repurpose these or do they need to go overboard ASAP?" she asks James.
"And then what do you want to do with all of this?" she asks, gesturing to the contraband. "I don't want to dump a potential fortune, but we don't exactly have the contacts to move this either. It's potential heat too, in case anyone comes looking. But if we manage to move it, we're that much closer to retirement."
