Page 28 of Adam, Mine

Scotland: Ayan McClean—fire and sweat; no running water (underlined in red); dubious hospitality

Ireland: Brogan—no last name; balance and magic

Italy: Cupido Colombo—humors, more of a physician

Greece: Orazio Sal—very religious; priest of words, talks in riddles

Russia: Yaroslav Voronof—dark magic; dress for warmth

In fact, thinking back to his meeting with Mr. Sauer, there seemed to have been a concentrated effort on his part to avoid knowing entirely what Victor had done.

It was as if understanding the depth to which Victor had erred would infect him with similar consequence—and he was desperate to avoid that.

Victor leaned his head against the train window and closed his eyes. The pink of the sun setting was making his head hurt.

It was probably for the best that he left Ingelstad anyway. Even if there weren’t hell to pay from his landlady and Elias’s missing body to deal with, his transgression with the drunk and his nightly adventures cat-catching were likely to catch up with him in time.

It wasn’t as though anyone he particularly cared about lived there. He was fond of his landlady but not in a way that would bind him to this town.

He wondered vaguely what had happened to the men who witnessed the fire. Their stories of a man made of parts of the dead coming back to life wouldn’t hold water. They may as well have told the police he had captured a fairy or goblin.

Authorities would likely check the cemeteries, find little amiss, and dispense with the case. Elias’s village was a two-hour ride away, and there were towns between to be searched where a man of means could reasonably be from.

That is, if his family didn’t assume Elias had run away with his mysterious suitor.

Who knew what passed for traditional courting among those people?

More important, Victor was dreading all this travel. The journey from Ireland to Italy alone would take nearly a month, and he wasn’t sure what could happen by then.

The farther he got from Ingelstad, though, the farther he got from most things that were beginning to make him uncomfortable. That was a pleasure, unintended as it may have been.

Sin

When Elias reached the city, the night was old and the sky was turning purple.

He ate his jerky and penned his horse at an inn after some irritating silent negotiation. They would not let him stay; they didn’t want his sores on their sheets.

Elias didn’t care because he did not have the time. He walked to the university and onto the campus. The architecture was grand and he would have liked to look at it, but he could feel his anger pounding like a headache.

He headed straight for the faculty dormitories, forcing the door, then stopped in the hall.

His anger had carried him here, but there was no way of knowing which room the stranger lived in. Elias didn’t read, so the names on the doors did not help him.

He closed his eyes and allowed a wave of despair to wash over him.

He swallowed hard.

“Hello?” he tried, but his voice cracked in too many places.

“Hello?” A whisper worked. The word hissed so quietly and even the air pained him, but it worked.

Elias gritted his teeth and sat down at the end of the hallway. He waited until the sun had flooded the hall in pink and gold and the sounds of washing up and walking surrounded him.

The second a door cracked open, Elias was on his feet and pushing inside.

He covered the man’s mouth with a firm hand and pushed the door closed behind him.

“I am looking for a boy,” Elias whispered.