“He raped him, didn’t he?”
Sorley’s face was a mask of barely-contained fury, his hands balled into fists. “I’m sure of it. What’s worse is I think I know why.”
Gethin stared at the ceiling. “Because if you squint a bit, and allow for the age difference and his hair being wrong, James could be a younger version of you, right?” He hadn’t paid much attention to the boy that night Sorley had fed from James in the park; mostly, he acknowledged now, as he’d been eaten up with jealousy, but the likeness was unmistakable.
Sorley was bleeding fury and compassion in a river of emotion so strong, it threatened to knock Gethin to his knees. Realisation struck him, a blow like a steel bar across his eyes.
“Oh God, did something…” His two sets of fangs momentarily battled for control in his mouth, his wolf trying to force a shift, his vampire intent on finding then ripping to shreds a total monster, then feasting on them as they bled out in front of him. His hands shook with the effort of holding back his claws. Gethin consciously sucked in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled slowly. He tried again, his tongue feeling like cotton in his mouth. “Did someone hurt you, like we think James has been hurt?” Shards of ice plucked at his heart at the mere thought.
Sorley shook his head. “Not me,” he said, his eyes almost feverish in their intensity. “Someone I love.” His face was taut with pain. “I wasn’t there to help, or to prevent it happening.”
Gethin felt as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. No matter he didn’t require it, the world seemed to crumple at Sorley’s declaration and fold in on itself.
“Christ,” he said with feeling. “Baxter?” He didn’t want to, couldn’t, imagine any of Sorley’s friends at the mercy of a violent abuser, but Baxter had been a young Victorian woman in a London he knew had been a harsh place to live, and, he suspected, possibly not wealthy or connected. She could have been very vulnerable.
Again Sorley shook his head. “Not Baxter,” he said tightly. “Although she had her own issues to deal with. I won’t tell you, Gethin. Not because I don’t trust you, but because it’s not my story to tell.”
Although Gethin still wrestled with both his supernatural entities entreating him to scour the planet for the perpetrator of such a heinous crime, he knew logically this wasn’t his fight, or possibly even a recent event. He growled, but managed to ask, “Was there at least a just punishment?”
Sorley’s teeth were visible as he nodded tersely. “We scoured Europe until every last bastard met a violent end. Never fear.” His fangs glinted in the overhead light he’d snapped on so James could see clearly. “And when I get my way, because I will,” His eyes narrowed menacingly, “we will do the same to this stain on the planet. In fact, I will petition to do it myself.”
Jesus.Gethin said, “Makes sense. Vampire crimes can’t be dealt with by the police any more than shifter ones can.”Will I be okay if I know Sorley takes the life of someone? Someone like me?He could feel his wolf, however, baring his own teeth in approval.Kill, destroy, neutralise the threat.
“He’s a dangerous madman. You know as well as I do the Council won’t let him live.”
“We do have to substantiate James’ claim though.” Gethin took a step back at the sudden murderous glare on his lover’s face. “I don’t mean I think he’s lying! Just, a trial has to be fair. We already suspect there’s a mage involved. Is it possible to coerce a vampire?”
“Not really,” Sorley admitted, although he looked as if there was room for doubt. “It would have to come from a much stronger vampire. If there’s one of those around doing this sort of shit, we need them taken out too.” He slid a hand into Gethin’s. “Don’t look so shocked. It’s not like you don’t know this stuff. Don’t tell me wolves settle their disputes over a pie and a pint, because we both know how it works. Look at young Bradshaw. He half killed his own father, and he was well within his right to do so. It’s no different now you’re a vampire.”
“Your Geordie accent gets really pronounced when you’re angry,” Gethin noted.
“Aye, well mebbe I’m too mad to contain myself,” Sorley shot back. “Which you’d do well to remember.” He snarled, but got himself under control. “Sorry, it’s not you I’m mad at. I just feel so helpless. We’ll see what more James can tell us.”
They settled the lad on the living room sofa. His colour was a little better for some food, and his smell was much improved, the lingering stink of magic drastically reduced, but Gethin had to work to keep from clenching his jaw as he regarded the mass of purple and yellowing bruises splotching the kid’s skin. He didn’t want to think how much worse he looked under his borrowed clothes. He held out a fleecy top. “I know it’s not cold but you might find this comfortable.” James nodded and swallowed, then pulled it over his head.
Sorley perched on a footstool and fixed a gentle expression on his face. “James, I know this is distressing for you, but we want to help you, and to do that, we need a name. You said before he told you to give me a message, and part of that was I’d know where to go. Does he want to meet me somewhere?”
James shrank into his loaned sweater. “He hurt me, he’ll hurt me more.”
“He might try,” Sorley agreed, his expression solemn, “But I think we all know he intends to hurt you anyway. If you stay with us,” James’s eyes widened in shock, “we’ll keep you safe from him. We definitely won’t feed from you, or do anything to you without your permission.” Gethin once again felt a blast of pained anger so vivid he had to bite back his wince.
Alec and Edwin evidently felt the pain too judging by the matching sour looks on their faces. Marlowe looked hopeful, Gethin assumed, for a name.
“I…I can’t stay,” James whispered. “And I can’t tell you his name.” He looked thoroughly despondent. He hugged himself tightly, rocking on the sofa, his eyes half-closed. His mood was hard to read. On the surface he seemed scared and unwilling, but Gethin sensed an underlying desperation to please. He looked at Marlowe.
“Could James have been magically bound to keep a secret?” he demanded.
Marlowe frowned for a moment, then nodded. “It’s possible.” He smiled gently at James. “Did you see other people at the place you were kept? Hear anyone? Feel any—” He looked around helplessly. “I don’t know how to describe magical fields to anyone fully human. Anyone?”
Edwin looked pensive. “Maybe a bit like the creepy crawlies you get when you know something’s about to go tits up, but you don’t have any evidence except your own intuition?” he suggested. “But I don’t really know if—”
“That’s not a bad description,” Marlowe affirmed. “Anything like that?” he asked James.
“I don’t think so.” They remained silent, urging him to continue. He swallowed a couple of times, then whispered, “Could I have a drink of water please?” He immediately looked horrified. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”
Alec was back with the glass within seconds, pressing it into the boy’s hands. “It does matter, James,” he said, thrall evident in his tone. “Youmatter. It is acceptable to ask for anything that will make you more comfortable while you are here.”
James took a few sips, then put the glass down so he could wrap his arms around his torso again. “Sometimes I heard voices, but it might have been him on the phone. I saw a man once, but he didn’t seem weird. He was delivering something. I don’t know what it was. A small package.” He sagged.
