Chapter 6
Despite having seven floors above ground and two below, Clint had to debate on where to take Luke. The closest thing he had to a jail cell was his ritual room. With three circles in the floor, he could trap most creatures.
As much as he needed the upper hand in their conversation, he also needed Luke to talk to him.
The only book Clint had at the moment was that the thieves couldn’t immediately free Valgaruz.
Even if they rushed to a prepared site, they would have to complete a lengthy ritual.
The situation’s dire but not impossible.
Luke didn’t fight the spell as Clint used it to drag him upstairs. His passiveness had a coil of tension, a patience for waiting out unfolding events. He’s seen me wield great power, and he doesn’t want to piss me off.
Any of the more ostentatious rooms would be too imposing. The studies and bedrooms were too intimate. He wasn’t about to take Luke into another magically infused chamber either.
He settled on the kitchen and pushed Luke into a seat at the small table.
While Luke had come to his aid in the vault, Clint wasn’t about to turn his back on him.
Now that the danger seemed to be over, Luke might try to escape.
And Clint needed answers, but he needed to be able to move around his kitchen, too.
So he used a bit of his will, snapped his fingers, and summoned the Reverse Ariadne. It bounced down the stairs and rolled through the open door before leaping up into his hand.
“You don’t need that,” Luke said. The fire spell had done a number on his face, but he was rapidly healing the damage. Even his hair was growing back at an accelerated rate, which was unusual among vampires.
“Forgive me for not being in a mood to trust your statement.” Clint tossed the ball forward, setting it on Luke.
Instantly, a golden thread unwound from the ball and wrapped around Luke’s ankle. It quickly worked its way up and over him. Luke didn’t fight that either.
With a moment to think over the events of the last ten minutes, shock gave way to a rising anger.
Someone had hired a thief—Multiple thieves.
That group in the vault struck me as professionals, not cultists—and had given said thieves enough information to successfully break through his locks and wards.
Anyone who lived as long as Clint had and dedicated themselves to fighting malicious supernaturals was bound to have a list of enemies that could fill a small town’s phone book.
He’d had individuals that he’d never known declare themselves as his archrival and attempt to take him down.
Granted, the last time that had happened had been during the American Civil War, but someone might try to challenge him for no reason.
But the setup was too intricate. And the knowledge? Few people knew enough about the tower to even guess what protections Clint had. Bastian, but he would never seek a demon. Sloane couldn’t tell anyone. He’s gone.
Clint turned toward his cabinets and started pulling out what he needed to make a pot of tea. He had a blend that would give him a kick of energy. Considering how the night was going, his insomnia wouldn’t be enough to keep him focused through the night.
“I was helping,” Luke said, his voice soft and smooth like the babbling of a brook on a crisp fall morning. “If you’re upset that I drank from one of them, I wasn’t going to kill them. I was in control.”
Clint had almost forgotten that Luke was tied to a chair behind him. He wiped a hand down his face and grabbed the teapot. It needed water. Unable to keep the self-loathing frown from his face, he kept his back to Luke as he moved.
Luke seemed to take his silence as some test because he kept talking.
“All I had were my fangs and a single dagger. I’m not a fighter.
I’m a thief.” He jostled in his seat, which caused the thread to tighten.
He huffed but continued, “Look, I can count the number of times I’ve been in a fight on my fingers, okay?
I was turned in 1904, so that should highlight my lack of combat experience. I did the best I could.”
The teapot was full; Clint put it on the stove and turned on the burner.
Luke clearly thought explaining his actions was what Clint wanted to hear, and that was an intriguing choice.
His assumption that Clint cared about blood drinking wasn’t wholly wrong.
But Luke was right that he’d been ill-equipped for a fight, and the thief had been clearly willing to kill or maim to get away.
If Luke had been working with the thieves, he should have turned on Clint in that basement. A vow didn’t matter if the one who held it was dead. Instead, he’d backed up Clint when he wasn’t forced to.
He could be running a long con on me. Sloane worked me for years, and I never knew. Clint could use magic to make the water boil faster, but watching and waiting was helping him steady his mind.
“Ugh!” Luke groaned. “We were outnumbered! They clearly only cared about getting their prize and getting out, so they were always going to run as soon as they had it. It’s not my fault they escaped.”
Luke’s words were telling, and Clint wished he had more time to tease apart the implications in Luke’s speech. He wanted to turn around and tell Luke that he wasn’t upset.
But he had too little information, and his heart had been wrong about lithe, handsome men before. He couldn’t afford to trust his instincts.
And Luke was hardly an innocent.
“There’s a gap in my wards,” Clint said quietly.
Luke shut his mouth with an audible click of his fangs.
As Clint had suspected, Luke had done something to his wards. The assumption hadn’t been a hard leap. After all, Luke had worked his way into the gallery on the sixth floor. He would have had to get past the fence first.
“Your silence tells me you were the one to compromise my protections.” Clint turned to face Luke.
Luke kept his silence, though he met Clint’s gaze.
Vampires could pry into the emotions of others, but Clint did not feel the slightest brush against his mind.
Mental fortitude was a necessary skill as a mage who faced supernatural threats at the rate he did.
Without strong walls, he would have lost his soul or his life decades ago.
Still, Luke’s steady stare was a surprise.
He had been running his mouth, practically confessing.
No, not confessing. He said what he thought I wanted to hear.
How much of what he said was honest? If Luke turned out to be a con man, then Clint had the power to destroy him.
I don’t want to resort to that. Not again.
Clint dragged the other chair out from the table, turned it around, and sat down. “How did you do it?”
A long moment passed before Luke lifted the right corner of his lips in the smallest grin. “Have you noticed pixies on your grounds?”
Of course the tiny fey creatures were involved.
Though Clint’s grounds were large, especially for fey of their size, pixies were explorers.
They were likely unknowing accomplices, but he’d have to have a word with them.
Clint closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
He was at partial fault for this damn break-in.
“I let a cloud move into my garden last spring.”
“They have a thin trail. Small for a whole cloud infestation, but enough for my bypass tool to work.”
That explained the gap. And he’d never thought to set wards against bypass tools. Those types of instruments were rare and required a preexisting flaw in the wards. Clint ran a hand through his hair. “What about the interior wards? How did you get into the cases without raising the alarms?”
Luke said nothing.
“I’m guessing you’re not a mage yourself,” Clint continued. “Or maybe you don’t know any combative spells, and that’s why you relied on your fangs and blade in the fight?”
“Hey, I took a stream of fire to the face trying to stop those thieves,” Luke replied. “I’m not a bad guy.”
“I am not unfamiliar with duplicitous souls running long cons,” Clint said, an edge of gruffness sliding into his voice.
Luke drummed his fingers against the chair.
The little motion was enough to activate the Reverse Ariadne’s magic, and the golden thread wound around his hand and tied his fingers together.
He didn’t seem stressed at how the thread held him, but then vampires didn’t have a heartbeat and didn’t need to breathe.
They could become extremely skilled actors.
“I gave you a vow that I wouldn’t hurt you or anyone you loved,” Luke said.
“That’s why I haven’t thrown you in a cell and left to hunt the infiltrators by myself.” The teakettle whistled. Clint kept eye contact with Luke as he stood up but had to finally break it when he turned around to finish preparing his cup of tea.
“Is that a truth potion?” Luke asked.
“Should it be?”
“I don’t think you need it.”
“You are avoiding my question.” Cup of tea in hand, Clint faced Luke once more. “I would hate to use magic to compel an answer from you.”
Once again, Luke went still. His expression wasn’t perfectly devoid of emotion, though he was clearly trying for a neutral mask.
Clint turned his chair back around and took his time sitting down. “That was the last of the time I have to waste tonight, Luke. If you’re not forthcoming, I’ll have to consider my choices.”
“I can hear your heart rate picking up,” Luke said.
And if I can’t keep my walls up, he’ll sense my feelings, too. Clint leaned forward. “I don’t want to force your hand. Not only do I loathe compulsion magic, but I’d like to believe that we might make good friends. You’re clever, resourceful, and capable of quick thinking under pressure.”
Luke clicked his tongue. “You can’t use what I’m about to say as a reason to throw me in front of some mage authority.”
“We’re not that organized.”
“You’re a magus of the Greater Circle of the Unyielding. Your circle was founded on the principle that you can project moral authority onto whoever you like.”