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The words drifted away as an ache bloomed in my chest. Encounters with men in the past had been impersonal and fleeting for a reason. I couldn’t afford to bond… or fall in love.
Ensley weaved his fingers with mine. He wore such a sincere expression that I wanted to bear my unbeating heart and tell him the truth about my life.
“What can I do?” He stroked his thumb against mine. “How can I help?”
Pushing moral dilemmas and pointless yearning aside, I retrieved the city map I’d acquired and laid it out on the table. “I haven’t much information. So far as I understand, my uncle is being held somewhere in the city. It will be some place remote and soundproof with limited entry points. Potentially underground, but without access to soil. Concrete reinforced, like a bunker, perhaps? A storm shelter. He’ll be heavily protected by civilian guards who won’t be easily identifiable.”
“That’s… oddly specific. Do you know those parameters for a fact or are you guessing?”
“It’s… the only thing that makes logical sense.”
“Meaning?”
I couldn’t explain the particulars without raising suspicion. Killing Iulian wasn’t an option, or he’d be dead. Valerius knew this. We might be immortal beings, but that only meant we were hard to kill, not invincible. What Valerius needed was to contain and control Iulian indefinitely. It meant keeping him in a state of torpor. It meant applying barriers that would make my job difficult, if not impossible. It was the whole reason he’d raised an army of human hunters. The protections involved could not be carried out by our race.
At least it was the conclusion I’d come to during my travels.
The logic was sound. When I’d shared my concerns with Seamus and Cristofer, they were convinced I could figure it out. There is no other way, they’d said.
“I can’t help if you don’t give me all the information, Mordecai. What aren’t you telling me?”
Biting back a response, I concentrated on the map, narrowing my focus to the rail museum we’d visited earlier. “You mentioned an underground railway. I didn’t see evidence of this.”
Hearing of its existence had sparked hope until we’d walked the grounds and entered the historic building.
“Yeah, it’s not underground. The term is deceptive. It’s… When Owen Sound was known as the Village of Sydenham, many escaped slaves from the southern states settled here. It was part of the largest North American freedom movement, and this was the last northern terminal on the railroad.”
“Oh.” My disappointment wasn’t hidden.
Ensley studied the map and pressed a finger over a specific spot. “This is the Great Lakes Elevator Company. Massive grain elevator. It’s about the only industrial building this city has, but I wouldn’t call it remote. It does have some of the qualities you’re looking for.
“The huge supermarkets and furniture stores have significantly large warehouses, too.” He pointed to several around the city. “But, again, not remote. Does it have to be?”
“Ideally. I suspect it would be a place away from the general population. Not typically accessed by the public.”
“So, not some random Joe’s basement? Because that makes more sense to me.”
“No. Too risky.” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. “Consider how you might house a rabid bear without anyone the wiser. Even tranquilized, he would be dangerous. Extreme caution would be necessary, and you wouldn’t want to be too close to other people lest they hear something they shouldn’t or be near enough to note the comings and goings of armed guards.”
“Armed guards who are civilians?”
“Yes.”
Ensley studied me with a skeptically raised brow for a long time.
“You’re the gamer, Ensley. Consider it a quest.”
Clearly humored, he nodded before scowling at the map, lips pinched in a thin line. I could only imagine what he was thinking.
He pressed fingers over two separate spots that were located close to one another. “Cemeteries? Greenwood has a mausoleum. Also, if memory serves, there’s an old boarded-up church or something on the property. Might not be a church. It’s small. Whatever it is, they clearly don’t use it anymore. I haven’t been to St. Mary’s, so I’m not sure about it. Would that be more along the lines of what you’re thinking?”
I rolled the idea around my head. Seclusion. Stone enclosures. “Possibly. What kind of cemeteries are they?”
“What do you mean?”
“Secular?”
“I have no idea. Does it matter?”
