Chapter 10 Dorian
DORIAN
Dorian returned to the Book Nook an hour later, ostensibly to check on some festival logistics but really to see if Ivy had finished her conversation with Moira. The afternoon rain had driven most people indoors, making the bookstore a logical refuge.
"Back so soon?" Lucien looked up from the inventory sheet he'd been updating, dark eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Let me guess. You forgot something."
"Actually, I wanted to discuss the sound setup for tonight's performances. Make sure we have backup equipment in case the weather affects anything."
"Right. Very responsible of you." Lucien's expression was deadpan. "Unfortunately, you just missed her."
"Missed who?"
"The woman you're absolutely not following around town." Lucien set down his pen and leaned back against the counter. "Ivy left about twenty minutes ago with an armload of books and new guitar strings."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't." Lucien's smile was almost nauseating. "Family knows a Vale when he circles, Dorian. You're doing that thing where you pretend casual interest while actually stalking your prey."
"I don't stalk."
"No? Then what do you call walking past the same locations three times in an hour?"
Before Dorian could craft a suitable response, Moira emerged from the back room carrying a steaming mug of tea. "Oh good, you're back. I wanted to talk to you."
"About what?"
"About being careful." Moira settled into the chair behind the counter, her brown eyes serious behind her glasses. "That woman has been hurt, Dorian. Badly."
"How do you know?"
"The questions she asks. The way she flinches when you mention magical contracts. The defensive posture she maintains even when she's trying to relax." Moira sipped her tea thoughtfully. "She spent the afternoon asking about predatory binding magic and Council jurisdiction."
Dorian's panther’s claws flexed in response. "Predatory binding?"
"The kind used to trap people against their will. Usually involves warlocks who specialize in coercive magic." Moira's voice carried professional concern. "She was particularly interested in dissolution procedures and protection protocols."
"Someone's got a magical hold on her."
"That would be my assessment, yes. And from her behavior, I'd say it's someone she's afraid of."
Lucien straightened, his casual demeanor shifting to alert attention. "How afraid?"
"The kind of afraid that comes from experience with retaliation. She kept referring to hypothetical situations, but her hands shook when we discussed emergency dissolution procedures."
A cold anger settled in Dorian's chest, different from his usual protective instincts. Someone had used magic to control Ivy, to bind her against her will. The thought made his panther pace restlessly, demanding action.
"Did she say who?"
"No, and I didn't push. Trust takes time to build, especially when someone's been betrayed by people who were supposed to protect them." Moira fixed Dorian with a steady look. "Which brings me to why I wanted to talk to you."
"I'm listening."
"She doesn't need another charming man making promises he can't keep. If you're planning to pursue her, you'd better be absolutely certain of your intentions."
"I haven't made any promises."
"Haven't you?" Moira's tone was gentle but implacable. "Coffee deliveries, prime performance slots, casual touches that make your pupils contract to slits. You're courting her whether you admit it or not."
Lucien snorted. "She noticed the pupils too?"
"Hard to miss when you're standing three feet away." Moira turned back to Dorian. "My point is, that woman has been manipulated by someone with power over her. She's not going to trust easily, and she definitely won't forgive easily if you betray that trust."
"I'm not planning to betray anyone."
"Plans change. Circumstances change. What happens when your interest moves on to someone else? What happens when the novelty wears off?"
It was true, Dorian's romantic history was littered with women who'd wanted more than he was willing to give, relationships that had ended when his attention wandered or commitment felt too confining.
But this felt different. Ivy felt different.
"I don't know," he admitted.
Moira's expression softened slightly. "Just be careful, Dorian. With her and with yourself. Sometimes what we think is casual attraction turns out to be something much more complicated."
After leaving the bookstore, Dorian found himself walking the festival grounds with restless energy. The rain had stopped, but the air still held moisture that made everything seem muted and intimate.
He told himself he was checking security, ensuring the sound equipment was properly covered and the stage area remained stable. Perfectly reasonable behavior for someone volunteering.
The fact that he was also scanning for anything that might threaten Ivy was entirely coincidental.
The makeshift stage behind Griddle & Grind looked secure enough, tarps protecting the equipment and the platform steady despite the afternoon's downpour. Dorian climbed the steps to double-check the microphone connections, his enhanced hearing picking up conversations from the café's interior.
That's when he caught it. A scent that didn't belong, sharp and acrid like burned metal mixed with something organic. Magic residue, but not the clean power that flowed through Hollow Oak's wards.
This was something darker.
Dorian followed the scent to the base of the stage steps, where someone had scratched symbols into the wooden planking. The marks were fresh, carved sometime during the afternoon while the rain provided cover. Sigil work, but not any protective magic he recognized.
He knelt and ran his fingers over the symbols, feeling the residual energy that clung to them like oil. Binding magic, designed to trap or compel. The kind of work Moira had described when discussing predatory contracts.
Someone had been here. Someone looking for Ivy.
Dorian scraped the ash and wood shavings into his palm, careful not to disturb the underlying spell structure. This needed analysis, but not here where Ivy might see it and panic.
His panther snarled silently, demanding he track down whoever had dared bring threatening magic into their territory. But rushing off half-cocked would help no one, especially not Ivy.
She was already jumpy and defensive. Finding out that someone had been magically marking her performance space would only make things worse, might even drive her to run before he could ensure her safety.
No. Better to investigate quietly, gather information, and deal with the threat without adding to her fear.
Dorian pocketed the ash and wood scraps, then carefully obscured the sigil marks with sawdust from the nearby construction supplies. To casual observation, the area looked undisturbed.
But someone had definitely been here. Someone with enough magical skill to create binding sigils and enough knowledge of Ivy's situation to target her specifically.
Were still in Hollow Oak, or was this just the beginning of a longer hunt?
Either way, Dorian intended to be ready. And he hoped Ivy would take him up on that twilight performance slot, where he could keep her within sight and ensure nothing interrupted her music.
Because one way or another, he was going to make sure no one hurt her again.