“And you didn’t get any feeling off him like Edwin described?”
James shook his head. “No. But he seemed uneasy around C…C…” Once again he stuttered as if he was being blocked from saying a name. He shook his head as if frustrated with his inability to verbalise.
Edwin picked up on that too. “Does the vampire’s name begin with a C, James?” Unlike previously, he was now trying hard not to come off as intimidating.
James inhaled a shuddery breath. “I don’t know if I can tell you,” he murmured. But as he spoke, he nodded violently.
Marlowe raised a hand. “If James is enchanted in some way to not divulge a name, I don’t want him hurt. He’s obviously strong as he’s fighting this magic. That’s really commendable, but we need to be careful.” He fiddled with his phone, then waved the screen at them. “Who’s best at reading emotions out of you lot? Gethin?”
“Probably,” Gethin admitted. “Why?”
“List of common British male names. Might as well start with this. Of course, it might not be a common name. James, you don’t have to speak, all right? But I’ll read them out and Gethin will read your emotional responses.”
A few names down, Gethin barked, “Stop!”
Everyone stared at him. “Connor?” he asked James. He caught Sorley’s eye. “Massive spike in his pulse rate.”
James had more tears pooling, threatening to spill down his cheeks. Sorley leant forward to squeeze his knee.
“Fucking hell,” Marlowe breathed, his astonishment clear to read. “Was it really that simple? That’s not an enchantment. Can’t be. If Kippen is involved, he’s far too knowledgeable to be so sloppy. I’d say that’s shitty thrall.” He wrote down Connor and Conor on his phone, then slid the device onto James’s thigh. “I doubt it matters, but if you’re able to tell me, one N or two?” He glanced up. “If I’m right and this is thrall, it won’t hurt him to answer.”
James shrugged and shook his head. “Not to worry,” Gethin said. James sank back against the sofa cushions, pulling his knees close to his chest. He gave an enormous sigh; all of them could see he was crying.
Marlowe left the room, returning with a travel packet of tissues. He pressed them into the boy’s hand and ran a hand through his own hair. “I’ll make some tea,” he announced, and headed to the kitchen. Gethin turned his attention back to James and his revelation.
“We should call Baxter,” Edwin said, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop as he spoke. “There are a couple of Conors with one N on the Council lists, and a Connor with two. Doesn’t mean shit, of course, if they’re not registered, but it’s somewhere to start.”
With James cradling a fresh cuppa, they waited for whoever else was currently on duty at the Council to authorise the release of the information they wanted so Baxter could send it. Sorley remembered his friend telling him every information release had to be approved by two separate species to avoid the possibility of foul play or leaks. It felt like forever but was in reality about twenty minutes before Edwin’s laptop updated with a new email. He opened it and scanned the contents quickly.
“Okay. Can’t be Conor Beckwith. He’s currently living in Naples with his girlfriend, Elise, and their shadow. Damn, that’s kinky.” He glanced up at the expectant men with a cheeky grin. “Baxter often adds her own notes to Council-approved info. Definitelynotthe Conor we’re after.”
He sniggered. “Trust Bax to give us the good gossip.” He waited a few beats, scanning the rest. “Hmm, Conor Devlin seems to be unlikely. Regularly seen in Dingwall, wherever the fuck that is.”
“Scottish Highlands,” Sorley supplied.
“Ahh, okay. Hmm…Could be him, I suppose, but — oh wait, there’s a photo. Here, have a butcher’s at this.” He turned the laptop towards Sorley.
43
SORLEY
Sorley didn’t wantto look, but he steeled himself for a face he might recognise. Except,
“The fuck, Eddie? Does helooklike my type? I’m insulted.”
Edwin, the utter shit, laughed. “Hey, you turned whoever it was down, remember? Or we assume you did.”
Sorley shuddered. “I hope to hell I did,” he muttered, suddenly wrapping his arms around himself. The possibility he might actually have been intimate with this monster hadn’t occurred to him. Glancing at Gethin, he was sporting an equally concerned expression.
“Third and final option we have on Council records,” Edwin continued as if Sorley wasn’t nearly hurling over his casual words, “is one Connor Cormack. Hmm, do we have a picture for this fella? Uh, it’s rather grainy, but yeah, we do.”
Sorley leaned forward again. He tilted his head to one side then the other. “Maybe I’ve met him,” he said finally. “But that could be almost anyone. Where on Earth did Baxter dig up this picture?” He looked over at James, who had ceased his rocking and was watching them with wide eyes. “James, d’you want to see?”
James gulped, but nodded. Edwin, looking suddenly very solicitous of the young human, took his laptop over and set it on James’s lap. “It’s not very good quality but—Oh.” He broke off as James paled and shrank back into the cushions. “Looks like we have a hit.” He removed the laptop. Alec brought the boy a brandy.
Sorley was on his phone. “Baxter, we need more pictures of Connor Cormack. Yeah, two Ns. We know the guy that’s been holding our informant has blond shaggy hair, green eyes, designer stubble, and this rough image was enough to make James uneasy. Can you sweep all the club footage again for anyone of his build with the stubble? He could change his hair and eye colour but he can’t do a damn thing about his height and build and possibly not his facial hair.” He glanced at James. “How tall is Cormack?”
James looked around the room. Then he stood. Finally he said, “Taller ’n you but not as tall as him.” He indicated Edwin.
