The Grand Dark. Richard Kadrey

as he got to the ground floor, however, knowing that like the Green, Machtviertel wasn’t a place to show fear. He’d missed his chance with the people upstairs, but he could at least appear unconcerned to anyone outside.

      But then Largo remembered the bottle Margit had put in his hand.

      He took it from his pocket. It was morphia. A bottle of it as big as the one Dr. Venohr had given him at Remy’s. He stood in a shadow by the stairs and stared at it happily. He quickly unstoppered it and put two drops under his tongue. Almost immediately, the chills left him and a gentle warmth moved through his muscles and bones. Pure morphia, he thought. Not watered down. Magical.

      Feeling much better, he put the receipt book into his shoulder bag and made his way out of the Black Palace to his bicycle. As he unchained it, the crows shuffled and cawed at him, utterly unafraid. But with the morphia in his system, so was Largo. He rode swiftly back toward the courier depot.

      On his way out of Machtviertel, however, Largo had a coughing fit so violent that he had to stop on the side of the road. When he blew his nose with a handkerchief, what came out was as black as soot. As good as the morphia made him feel, he was still relieved to put Machtviertel behind him.

      It was a long ride back to the office.