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Grey’s body locked up, but Noel immediately jumped to the opposite reaction: “What the fuck do you want with us?”
The macharomancer pulled a knife from his belt. “Quiet, you little shi?—”
“Relax, Daz,” came Doctor Cavan’s even command. A low, eerie hum crept through the basement as his gloved hand ran over the hilts of his instruments. When he turned around, he flipped one over in his palm, examining the sharp edge in his slow stroll back over to his captives. He pointed it toward Noel, his wrist limp and casual in his grip on the hilt. “You are simply fodder at this point. Trade bait, assuming this one really is a hemomancer.”
The blood drained from Grey’s face. No. Panic seized him with the idea that he’d be forced to endure whatever pain they chose to inflict on him with the horrible addition of siphoning away Noel’s life force. “Please?—”
“Oh, shh,” Doctor Cavan cooed, grabbing a chair. He dragged it over, straddling it to sit in it backward and resting his arms along the back. “If you’d like to make this easier on me, I’d be more than happy to skip a few steps. So, let’s start with your name.”
Noel jerked against his restraints. “Fuck off.” Daz slugged him in the stomach.
“Grey! It’s Grey—Please stop—” he pleaded, his wrists burning with the instinctive twist to jump up and help.
“Grey,” Doctor Cavan repeated, drawing out the name with a velvety touch that made his skin crawl. “What are you?”
Grey pressed his back up against the beam, looking from the knife to the doctor’s tilted head. Malicious curiosity tingled behind the man’s dark eyes.
“A h-hemomancer…”
He frowned and shook his head. “I suppose we’ll do this the hard way then.”
The chair complained as he stood, and Grey’s heart dropped. “W-wait—I don’t understand?—”
“He answered the question!” Noel yelled, coming to his aid and yet again bringing down the wrath of Daz upon him. In a flash, Daz’s fist plunged down toward Noel’s leg, and a scream tore from his throat. Blood welled up when the thug ripped his blade out, crimson licking at his faded jeans.
“Stop!” Grey begged. “I’m a hemomancer. Please just leave him alone. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know?—”
Doctor Cavan started behind the beam, vanishing from Grey’s line of sight before he felt his hoodie sleeve pushed up to his elbow. Cold iron bit into his arm, and then a questioning hum echoed through the basement. “Interesting…”
Grey’s arms relaxed against the beam again, stunned as Noel panted through gritted teeth and the doctor casually walked back to his chair, frowning down at the thin line of blood on his knife.
“What did you do to him?” Noel asked.
“Nothing,” the doctor answered, holding up a hand before Daz could retaliate. “Just a little test. Trin, would you prepare a room for our guest?” He swiped away a red bead dripping from his nose, narrowing his eyes at Grey.
But Grey was too preoccupied with the blood seeping from Noel’s leg until Trin’s fingers trailed his forehead, and the world disappeared again.
* * *
The click of a lock pulled Grey from one dark abyss into another. He blinked away sleep to the low light seeping through news papered windows shadowed by grated iron bars. Plastic zip-ties still held his wrists together, but at least this time they were in front of him with his body cradled by a thin mattress—the sole piece of furniture in the small room.
“He’s still sleeping, but he should wake up again soon.” A quiet, calm voice that Grey guessed had to be Trin.
“As long as he’s kept pacified and somewhat comfortable, do whatever you need to.” Doctor Cavan.
Grey shifted, trying to peer under the door to find an outline of shoes.
“And what about the macharomancer? We can’t just let him go.”
“I’ll have Daz keep him quiet until tomorrow night. I know how to dispose of him after we make our offering.”
“You sound so confident they’ll accept this one.”
Doctor Cavan sighed. “I hope they’ll accept this one. If not, I’ll have to find another one, and there aren’t all that many options, are there?”
Grey shivered as floorboards creaked under their shifting weight before the doctor continued, “I’ll commune with the crystal first. If they reject, I’ll try to figure out what to do with him until I can trade him with another. Just… keep him quiet.”
The descending moan of footsteps on stairs made Grey push himself up, his heart hammering in his chest as he stood and crept over to one of the windows. The pinkish hue of dusk filtered through one of the tiny holes, the sun vanishing over the city’s shipping containers in the distance. He moved to the other window, trying to orientate where he was in the building. Judging by the stories of neighboring buildings, he was on the third, towering just above the nearby shops.
