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It was why, the instant Ensley’s Jeep vanished down the driveway, I slipped through the crack in the mysterious door in the kitchen and descended into the cellar. To hide. To think.
The space reminded me of the catacombs: hard-packed dirt floor, fieldstone walls, the scent of earth and rot in my nose. It settled my jangling nerves.
I needed a plan, but I had no idea where to begin. If Iulian was being held captive somewhere in the area, figuring out where was a priority. I didn’t know Owen Sound, Ontario, or Canada for that matter, and I hadn’t been given enough time to study a map or a history book.
“Curse you, Seamus.”
It was my fault. If I hadn’t stubbornly avoided responsibility, I would be better prepared.
Ensley’s enticing offer of a city tour played on repeat. I could use the helpful orientation, but was he friend or foe? If he suspected me of being anything more than a foreigner, I didn’t get a vibe. The man seemed genuine. Honest. A little awkward and rambling, but I rather enjoyed the way he floundered about the mansion.
And his unexpected attractiveness…
“Not the time, Mordecai. Focus.”
Although I wasn’t opposed to seeing him again. The risk seemed low. I could take the chance. Stay on my guard. If I’d met him back home, on familiar ground, he was exactly the type I would follow and study. The kind of man I would lust after with a bone-deep yearning. When I could no longer resist, I might satiate that yearning, if he was interested. Ensley’s covert glances seemed to suggest he was.
But was he a hunter? Did I care?
Seamus’s warning rang in my ears, reminding me this wasn’t a suicide mission.
The agent was attractive in an unsuspecting sort of way. His looks reminded me of a boy I’d known a lifetime ago. In another time. Another place. He too had worn his hair long, tied in a knot at his nape. Ensley’s slicked-back bun sat higher, revealing a shaved underside. The bold cut was both edgy and dramatic, complementing his quirky character. It had taken plenty of willpower not to stare.
No matter the effort, I’d been caught several times.
Had he noticed the lust in my eyes? Had he sensed what I did not say aloud?
I’d taken many lovers over the past few centuries, but those encounters occurred on a superficial level. One night, rarely two. Every partner was left with a muddled mind and memories too hazy to fully recall. Leaving an imprint in their lives was too dangerous. Falling in love with a mortal would be unfair. Endless broken hearts were not worth the price of temporary happiness, and that was all it could be. Temporary.
Others like me didn’t follow this practice and considered it antiquated. I’d always been different. Stubborn, Cristofer called me.
Say what they might, I would never contribute to the growth of my kind. My existence was a curse, not a blessing.
Ensley’s boyish charm and easy smile made it hard to determine his age. I suspected he was older than my human presenting years, but I’d never been good at judging those things. If I was more like Cristofer, I might have asked casual questions and flirted, but my social skills with humans were underdeveloped. Regardless, I’d spent the entire tour admiring Ensley from the corner of my eye.
It couldn’t be more.
I had a mission, and it did not include Ensley Elowen.
Cristofer had secured me a pitiful excuse for a home base, and the mansion’s disrepair had left the poor, baffled agent perplexed, particularly when I mentioned I would be staying the night. My basic needs were not the same as a mortal’s. The accommodations, although lacking, were adequate. If I was to blend with the humans, however, I would need to make some changes—not that I expected visitors.
Unsure where to begin with regards to my task, and with the night young and promising, I left the mansion to explore Owen Sound and familiarize myself with the streets and districts. If Seamus’s information was correct, Valerius had hidden the elder somewhere in the waterfront city.
The Friday night crowd wasn’t nearly as robust as I’d seen in larger urban areas. Keeping my head down, merging with the shadows, I wandered through what I assumed was the main part of downtown, mentally recording details. Valerius would have chosen somewhere secluded. Somewhere away from residential areas. A place where the average citizen wouldn’t stumble accidentally.
I discovered several museums, a theater, numerous parks, an art gallery, schools, churches, two cemeteries, more than a few inns, restaurants, and various historical sites. Owen Sound was nestled on the southern shore of Georgian Bay. A winding river bisected the city. As I peered along its passage from the 9th Street bridge, my skin itched and my muscles cramped.
Avoiding the discomfort, I took to the sky, but my aerial tour ended quickly since there wasn’t much to explore. I returned to the mansion and strolled her vacant halls, deciding how to handle my situation. I needed proper information about the city if I was going to locate Iulian.
Debating how to acquire that information brought me back to thoughts of Ensley. It was an option, but an option I wasn’t sure I should exploit… for more reasons than one.
When the sun rose the following morning, I retreated to the underground cellar to ride out the day. I couldn’t properly rest until Seamus’s promised containers arrived, which meant I couldn’t regenerate. I could feed, but I didn’t want to. Not yet. My concern over restoration was usually slim, but I’d been warned by both Seamus and Cristofer not to allow myself to become depleted.
Weakness was grounds for failure, and failure was not an option.
Monday, three days after my initial tour with Ensley, the purr of an engine on the winding road leading to the mansion announced the arrival of a visitor. The noise disturbed my slumber, which suggested it was nearing sundown. Otherwise, nothing short of physical harm would wake me. I lay still, listening from the cellar, ears tuned and alert to every sound. The engine cut off. A door slammed. The crunch of rotten leaves under heavy footwear.
A hesitant rap sounded on the mansion’s solid front door, soft and unassuming.
