They’d been on increasingly tiny roads since leaving the motorway, and Laurence had sworn at the cellphone a couple of times when the GPS took a while to catch up with Mikey’s driving.

Night fell as they drove. They were past talking now. The smaller the roads, the fewer the lights, and soon they were down to headlamps only on roads so winding and narrow that if anything came the other way there was gonna be a problem. But there were only a couple of miles to go now. He could feel Windsor’s proximity like a lighthouse now.

“Huh,” Mikey said. “Pretty fucking fancy.”

Laurence looked up from the bright screen and peered out into the darkness. The headlights picked out a long, low wall which bisected the road a hundred yards ahead of them. It looked like castle ramparts, despite only being eight or maybe ten feet high.

In the center, where the wall straddled the road, it turned into some kind of ornate archway with spires and wrought iron gates which stood open, almost welcoming.

The longer he looked, the more he thought he saw something else. Movement in the darkness. Shadows which jumped as the headlights bounced along the bumpy road.

Shadows which did not flee at the touch of light.

Laurence almost yelped. “Stop the car! Stop!”

Mikey slammed the brakes, and the car slid a couple of feet until it juddered to a halt. “What the fuck? The gates are open, man!”

Laurence unbuckled his seatbelt. “I think there are wards on the gate. Magic,” he added, in case Mikey didn’t understand what he meant. “It’s hard to tell. It’s not like any magic I’ve seen, but then I haven’t exactly seen a lot of it.”

Mikey pulled the handbrake and peered out into the evening. “I can’t see anything.”

“Yeah. Magic’s only visible to people who can use it, and even then only certain types of spells really show up. Plus most people can’t even see those.” At Mikey’s stare, Laurence added, “Fuck, it’s complicated, and I’m really new to it, okay?” He pointed to the gate. “I’d need to get closer, but you should turn back now anyway. If it’s some kind of ward he’ll know we’re here once we cross it, and you don’t wanna get anywhere near this shit.”

“Yeah.” Mikey didn’t sound convinced, and his lips pressed together into a thin line. “What if I wait here though?”

Laurence frowned at him. “I dunno, man.”

“You’re gonna kill the guy, right?” Mikey grimaced. “You do that and he’s not a threat anymore. You fail and I’m not safe at any distance.”

“I really don’t know, but usually he needs blood to track people down if he doesn’t know where they are. I doubt he’s got your blood. You’re better off going back to Freddy, ‘cause at least there are wards there so the duke can’t get you even if he tries.”

Mikey glanced down to one side, then huffed. “Frederick agrees.”

“Good.” Laurence pushed the door open. “Go home, Mikey. Let me take it from here.”

He slipped from the car and shut the door, then made sure Mikey was driving away before he stalked toward the wall.

The loss of light took a while to adjust to, but it only made it clearer that Laurence was looking at wards. They were like holes in the world, afterburn of bright light that danced on his retinas, and if he stared too hard he thought he could see tiny glimpses of distant stars deep inside them.

They were watching him.

His skin crawled with the sensation. Magic shouldn’t feel like this. This wasn’t a spell from a sorcerer who worked with the universe, but from one who twisted it to his will, and the universe had no choice but to obey.

Laurence took a breath and stepped past the ward. It probed him as he passed, but his own talisman snapped back at it, and the wards withdrew back to their place.

He broke into a run. There was a time for stealth, but this wasn’t it. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and that magic as he possibly could, so he sprinted along the road toward a house he had only ever seen pictures of online.

It was huge. Even the hillsides and landscaped gardens were big enough to encompass the entire Gaslamp district back home, and the house which nestled among them which was like some grand palace out of a movie. It was unreal that anyone could have grown up in this kind of place, let alone actually call it home.

He almost laughed at the weirdness of it. This was Quentin’s world, an alien existence where commoners were only staff, and Laurence was breaking into it to kill a duke.

The closer he came to the castle the more he came to appreciate the sheer size of the damn thing. But it wasn’t just huge.

There was more of that writhing, seething magic. It danced in doorways.

The duke hadn’t warded his entire property, it seemed. Only the places where people might reasonably enter or leave. Whether he was confident that he had no enemies, or there were other traps within, Laurence had no way of knowing.

Windsor drew nearer too, and Laurence turned his face to the sky as he offered up an arm for the raven to land on. He slowed to make it easier for the bird, then hugged Windsor to his chest as Windsor chirped and peeped.

“Oh Goddess,” he breathed. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Windsor snapped his beak as he chattered. Me too!

It was so much easier to understand Windsor in person. The combination of sounds and body language helped add context to the feelings and thoughts he projected across their bond. Better still, having Windsor here made him feel a little less incomplete, as though a part of him had been restored.

Laurence shook his head and broke into a run, careful not to jostle the bird in his arms. “How did you even get here?”

Windsor chattered eagerly. Magic.

“Rufus sent you?”

Yes!

Laurence nodded as he petted Windsor’s soft, sleek head. “You’re a brave bird. Is Quentin here?”

Windsor’s chatter became agitated. Yes. In danger. It’s bad. This way!

Laurence had to release Windsor as the bird stretched his wings, and Windsor hefted himself into the air.

“Okay.” Laurence picked up the pace. “Show me.”

* * *

Behind the house, Laurence’s breath hung in the freezing air, and his feet slid on ice. He slowed to pick his way more carefully, and tried to see what the hell was going on. The lights which bathed the house in an eerie white glow bounced more than enough out across the ground for him to make out a few details.

Gravel was spilled out over grass. There was mud and mess everywhere, and a wedge of ice seemed to fan out toward the darkness of a lake. Huge doors had been torn free of their hinges and lay discarded on the ground.

Quentin had been here.

Laurence looked toward the water, then the trees which surrounded it, and pointed toward them. “Go wait,” he whispered. “It isn’t safe for you to follow.”

Windsor chattered in agitation, but did as he was ordered, and Laurence felt him fly away to a distant perch.

Laurence turned toward the house and took a deep breath to pick apart the scents on the air. He smelled sweat and fear. Piss. Soap. Unfamiliar toiletries. Nothing that smelled of Quentin’s usual taste in cleaning products, so Laurence dug deeper, for the scent of the man himself. Something less substantial, but more unique.

There.

He picked toward the open doorway with caution. It would mean stepping over another ward, but there was no way around it. His talisman smacked it away again, and Laurence was inside.

Quentin’s scent was stronger here.

So was the piss.

The hallway was a mess, and desperately trying to sweep up the mangled trash strewn all around was an old man covered in cuts and bruises, who stank of pee and fear.

Laurence narrowed his eyes. It could have been comical if it wasn’t so absurd, this old butler or whatever he was clearing up after some crazy storm had passed through.

The old man raised his head toward Laurence, and Laurence had a flash of recognition.

This was a man he’d seen before. Younger, sure, and seeming so tall as he’d led a five year old Quentin away from his mother.

“Higson?” he gasped.

Higson held out a shaking hand, pointing toward a corridor. “That way,” he whimpered.

Laurence nodded grimly. Quentin’s scent agreed, so he left Higson sweeping up the mess and set off down a corridor which only grew more familiar the further down it he progressed.

But only the hallway was in ruins.

Laurence bared his teeth and slowed to a crawl. He moved in silence. Not even his breath gave him away.

Something was very, very wrong, and rushing in could get him killed.

Why wasn’t anything else damaged?