Rain drummed against asphalt, splashing into puddles which already covered the road surface.

Laurence had no idea how long he was there. He wasn’t sure how he got there. His body ached and stung, and the grease-filmed water butted up against his cheek.

Car horns rose from the drumming, another layer of noise.

“Can you hear me?”

Laurence spat water from his mouth and rolled onto his front. No sharp pains, nothing stabbing. No broken bones. He knew too well what they felt like, and he said a silent prayer of thanks as he planted his palms to the road surface.

“Hang on, mate. Maybe you should wait for the ambulance, eh?”

Still, hands helped him to his feet.

Laurence pushed his sodden curls back from his forehead and squinted at the man who was talking to him. He was a few inches shorter than Laurence, well into his fifties, with a cheap suit that was now every bit as drenched as Laurence was.

“I’m okay,” Laurence rasped. He couldn’t tell yet whether it was true, but it would be true within a few hours regardless. He rubbed the back of his neck and eyed the small gray car which now had a dent in its hood, then grimaced. “Who paints a car gray in a country with this much fucking rain?”

It was no excuse. Not really. He wasn’t paying attention, he’d run straight out into traffic like a startled cat, and his senses were dulled by withdrawal and weeks without sex. Add all that to the horrendously low visibility thanks to the torrential downpour and he’d been damn lucky not to have killed himself.

“Not my fault.” The driver scowled now, getting defensive now he’d seen Laurence wasn’t dead. “You came out of nowhere like a blue-arsed fly, mate!”

Laurence nodded weakly. The guy had a point, and Laurence didn’t have time to argue over it. “Hey, you have any idea where the American embassy is?”

The guy hesitated, then shrugged. “Mayfair. Just off Park Lane, I think. I don’t go that way often.”

“How about we forget this happened and you just drop me off there?”

The guy checked his watch, then sighed. “Okay, but are you really sure you don’t want the ambulance instead?”

Laurence shook his head. “I’m fine.” Then he offered his hand. “I’m Laurence,” he added, giving his best charming smile.

“Mark.” The guy took his hand, then gestured to the car. “Hop in, then.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate this.”

Mark eyed him, then laughed weakly.

“Yeah, any time you want a lift after I’ve knocked you off your feet, just ask.”

* * *

Mark dropped him off by a park after they’d driven past the fenced-off embassy building, and Laurence headed toward it while trying not to look suspicious.

What exactly do you think you’ll achieve here?

His body flinched as Freddy’s voice came from nowhere. Before he could formulate a response, Freddy himself stepped out of the park and smirked at Laurence.

Laurence eyed him, and then looked to the park, but it seemed reasonably free of onlookers for as far as the rain allowed him to see.

There was no way Frederick could have known where to find him. Laurence had only decided ten minutes ago to come here, and if Freddy was keeping his distance he couldn’t have got here himself in that time. Not unless by some huge coincidence Freddy happened to be within spitting distance of the embassy already.

“You’re in my head,” he snarled.

“Well done. Of course I am. Where else would I be?” Freddy gestured toward the squat, rectangular embassy up ahead. “You’re thinking temporary travel documents, mm? Perhaps charm your way to a few hundred pounds for a ticket back home, where you would still be well within my reach. It seems a waste of time and effort. I thought you might do something more interesting with your autonomy.”

Laurence bared his teeth and lunged for Freddy’s throat. The guy had thirty pounds of muscle on him, easy, but Laurence didn’t care.

Freddy idly checked his cuffs as Laurence passed through his body. “There’s an irony to be had,” he mused, “from the fact that you have the will, but lack the power, and Icky has the power, yet lacks the will.”

“I’ll kill you,” Laurence growled as he span on his heels.

“I doubt that.” Freddy turned to face him. “As we speak, you are making your way back to me. When you arrive I shall sequester you away safely where you can’t do any further harm to yourself until such a time as I have need of your abilities to predict Icky’s path. Then it will be child’s play to outmaneuver him at every turn, and this business will be done and dusted within a day or two at most.”

He felt sick.

This was nothing like on the plane, where the leap from aircraft interior to a temple in Japan had been obvious. It was so subtle Laurence hadn’t been able to tell the difference between the real world and Freddy’s illusion.

“All this is in my head?” he breathed. “Did I even get hit by a car? Where’s Quentin?”

“We’ll find him soon enough. Or rather you will find him. I’m not surprised he chose to ran. He’s been doing it all his life.” Freddy snorted and glanced skyward.

The rain cut out.

“Better,” he mused. “I don’t see why I should put up with this just because you’re out in it.”

“This is all in my fucking head?” Laurence looked down, but his feet weren’t moving. He was still as he could be, balanced on the balls of his feet, the gaps between the paving slabs straight lines either side of him. He closed his eyes and tried to reach any sense that he was actually in motion, but there wasn’t any.

So much for being able to discern the truth in all things. Frederick’s gifts could just overwrite his instincts, make him sense whatever Freddy wanted him to and block out the stuff Freddy didn’t want him to see, hear, or otherwise feel. If the guy was using Laurence’s body like a remote controlled drone Laurence couldn’t tell at all, and stood no chance of making him stop.

He stepped back slowly.

His senses were lying to him.

Frederick was going to use him to see the future, just like he’d used Laurence’s gifts to attack Quentin at the house.

“Now,” Frederick said. “Why don’t you tell me more about this bird of yours?”

Laurence glowered at him and crossed his arms. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

Freddy shrugged. “A gift from Herne, hmm? I didn’t realize such things were possible. Isn’t it a wonderful world?” Then he leaned in and smiled faintly. “I suppose I shall have to have you pop wards up where we’re staying.”

Laurence’s mouth felt dry, and his despair began to seep into his bones, all the more bitter for his momentary taste of freedom. The idea that Frederick could use his magic as well as his gifts hadn’t occurred to him, and while Laurence was hardly the most potent witch around, he had a few spells up his sleeve that he’d managed to memorize well enough to cast at will, and protective wards were right at the top of the list.

He’d re-done the entire mansion once he’d learned how, from top to bottom. Rufus removed his own wards, and Laurence replaced each and every one with his own. Practice, as Ru had said, made perfect. But it added another obstacle for Quentin, because if Quentin finally managed to track Freddy down and found a location covered tip to toe in wards he might be unnerved enough to panic, or even black out altogether, both of which would suit Freddy just fine.

At least Laurence didn’t have much in the way of offensive magic under his belt. He’d learned how to lay a trap that would disorient whoever walked into it, but that was the size of it on that front. Ru considered it more important that Laurence learned to protect himself and others, and Laurence had agreed.

He straightened his shoulders and pulled his head up high. “Do what you want. I can’t stop you. I don’t even know why you’re here playing with me. You’re like a kid pulling the wings off a fly, Freddy. It’s pathetic. Haven’t you got more important stuff to do right now?”

Freddy rubbed his chin and feigned deep thought. His eyebrows pulled together, and his gray eyes narrowed. “More important than saving my own skin. Let me think about that one. Oh, no! No, I don’t think there is anything more important than that!” He rolled his eyes then waved to Laurence. “Still, there really is no need for us to chat. You’re an open book, and it’s time I did some reading. Ta ta, Bambi, dear boy.”

Freddy evaporated into thin air, but Laurence didn’t feel any better about it. Now, instead of being held captive in a basement somewhere, he was a hostage inside his own mind, with no knowledge of where his body was or what it was doing.

And no way out.