“Why don’t you have one of those security camera doorbells? Big oversight,” Edwin tutted, but he moved next to Marlowe and tensed as the mage unfastened the locks.
He muttered what sounded like nonsense syllables, Sorley thought perhaps some kind of protection spell, then carefully opened the door a fraction.
Marlowe immediately tensed. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice shaky. Sorley couldn’t see from this angle, but he caught Edwin’s eye and raised his eyebrows.
Edwin pushed in front of Marlowe. He made a noise of surprise. “This has trap written all over it in neon letters,” he muttered. “But what option do we have?” He leaned forwards, and Sorley could tell he was using thrall. “You,” he addressed their visitor, “don’t fucking move a muscle.”
“Who is it?” He was practically vibrating with curiosity.
“Dunno,” Edwin said flatly, “but he stinks of magic and of the scents we identified the other night.”
“Human?” Gethin asked quickly. Edwin nodded. “Damn.” Sorley wondered what it was about a single human that made Marlowe so wary.
Alec edged to the door and inhaled deeply. “I cannot sense anyone else but the boy. It probably is a trap, but I think we can grab him without any immediate peril to ourselves.”
Edwin peeked at whoever was outside. “How did you get here?”
After a pause, a rather flat male tone said carefully, “A car. I don’t know.”
Edwin grunted. “Not very helpful. Or enlightening.”
Gethin glanced around and shrugged. “Bring him in.”
When Alec tried to protest, they all overrode him. “He’s the best chance we’ve got for answers right now. We don’t want to do this on the doorstep,” Gethin said. “We’re too vulnerable there.” Sorley agreed with him.
“It has to be a trap,” Alec repeated under his breath. Sorley agreed with him too, but he didn’t have any better ideas and this was potentially a lead to the rogue vampire.
Edwin stuck his head around the door again and beckoned with one long finger. “You, inside.” He lunged for their caller as soon as he was in reach, dragging him over the threshold and slamming the door quickly.
Sorley’s gasp of shock when he clapped eyes on the young man was identical to Gethin’s, but, he suspected, for slightly different reasons.
“Oh fuck,” Gethin said bluntly. “This isn’t good news.” He glanced at Edwin. “Don’t let him move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”
Sorley recognised the bag Gethin fetched from the bedroom, as did Alec by the way he shuddered.
“Do we have to?” Sorley asked. “He’s only a human.” He’d already traumatised the lad that night in the park when the kid feared he was about to be sexually assaulted. Tying him up and bullying some kind of confession out of an already battered human turned the blood he’d recently ingested to a sour lake of distaste.
Gethin rolled his eyes. “Yes we fucking do. But we’ve added some wrappings to the cuffs after you pointed out we don’t have to torture our prisoners unnecessarily. Not that these should hurt him anyway seeing as he’s not a supe.” He advanced on the guy, who was standing poised like a statue, if a statue could look frightened, anaemic, and bruised.
“I won’t hurt you if you don’t struggle, but we don’t take chances with our security,” he said quietly to the youth. He looked barely more than a kid, maybe twenty tops. Sorley felt a pang of what might have been guilt — the boy was obviously involved in some way because of him, but at least this one didn’t seem deranged and screaming to be kept away from food. Although perhaps whatever they, whoever they were, had done to him was worse. As well as bruised, he looked half starved.
Gethin led the cuffed boy to the basement. “Harder for him to bolt from,” he explained when Marlowe questioned him. “Not that he’d get far, but he might be the ballsy sort, or delusional.”
“Or enchanted,” Marlowe replied ominously.
“Possibility of that?” Edwin barked.
Marlowe flinched at his tone. “Fairly unlikely. He reeks, but it’s nothing I can immediately identify as threatening. He might be protected much like I did for you and Sorley. Purely defensive.” He sighed. “But I don’t think so. My best guess is he’s been held somewhere where someone’s not been careful about their magic usage, and got a backwash, like standing downwind of a crowd of smokers.”
“Can you check him over?” Gethin asked.
“Yeah.” Marlowe nodded, his aura of quiet confidence returning now he was being asked to do something he knew about. “He needs to sit down. I don’t want to chance him head-butting me or anything.”
With four brooding vampires encircling him, the boy did very well to tremble as little as he did while Marlowe swept his hands around, following the contours of the kid’s body, apparently checking for any enchantments that might have been placed on or in him.
Marlowe stood back. “He’s clean. Well, clean of sinister magic, unless it’s so far above my capabilities it’s not even registered, but I am pretty good at what I do.” He wrinkled his nose at the grubby clothes and unkempt hair of their captive.
“You’re the Council’s top mage,” Edwin grumbled. “No time for false modesty. What do we do next? He’s obviously a message.” He scoffed. “Not enough of him to be a meal, even though he smells fucking delicious.” He bared his fangs at the boy, who blinked at him in slow motion, then shrank into himself on the stool they’d seated him on.
