Withers doesn’t respond at first. He just watches Carnell like he’s already counted the seconds to his death.
Then he smiles. “Of course. Whatever you say.”
Once he has disappeared, confident his orders will be obeyed, Withers turns on his heel. He’s muttering under his breath, and sparks are flashing from his fingertips.
“What could you possibly need from a delusional idiot like Carnell?” Luca asks sweetly.
Withers looks at him suspiciously but says nothing.
So Luca continues, “You’re clearly the one with power. So why put up with his shit?”
Fuck, Luca, you better know what you’re doing.
“I mean, why not just mind-whammy him?”
Good question. He’d put Luca under twice, and he was clearly ready to do real harm again if Nix so much as twitches in his direction.
They round the corner into the empty kitchen, where a single door opens to reveal a darkened staircase. At the bottom, they find a full wine cellar with clear, hermetically-sealed glass sides containing hundreds of bottles of wine.
Withers just chuckles. He keys in the code and gestures for them to precede him. It’s not ideal, but at least they’re still alive and together, if none the wiser.
“The cellar has approximately four hours of air. I did the math. Although, as you can imagine, math isn’t my strong suit. Cross your fingers and pray that no one forgets you’re here in the meantime.”
It goes without saying that Nix doesn’t plan on being in here that long.
Withers wiggles his fingers in goodbye, but at the last minute, he stops and opens the door again. “I haven’t forgotten our date for later, little novice. I’m curious about how you’re managing to thwart me and about what’s under your t-shirt.”
He winks and blows them a kiss.
Once he’s slithered up the stairs, Luca crouches down, holding his head. He’s at the end of his rope and maxed out. He breathes deeply in the familiar rhythm he uses to calm his panic attacks.
Quite sure that being locked in the wine cellar isn’t helping, Nix pulls out a few bottles of wine, looking for something to replace the scent of motor oil and maybe settle Luca’s nerves. He squints at a dusty label, finally choosing the oldest bottle of wine he can find. It says Penfolds Grange 1951 on the label. It’s from Australia. A Shiraz…whatever that is. Gideon would know. But it looks expensive—he hopes Carnell will miss it.
He sits as close to Luca as he dares because he isn’t sure of his welcome.
“Hey, let’s try to get some of the oil off, eh?” Nix offers the wine.
“With wine?”
“Better Penfolds Grange 1951…than Penzoil 1988?” Nix jokes.
Luca looks skeptical, but he nods. Nix taps the neck of the dark green bottle on the ground until it breaks.
Ripping the edge of Luca’s long t-shirt this time, he uses the wine to dab at the motor oil around his mate’s pretty neck.
“Much better. At least I can smell you now,” Nix murmurs.
“Can you turn your bond and scent back on? You’re a big blank, and it’s making this worse. Please?”
Nix doesn’t want to.
He wants to stay undetectable—even from himself. But Luca’s already pale and sweating. The BBS must already be hitting hard.
Nix hesitates—one heartbeat, then another. Then he lets go.
And the bonds flood back in.
All of them.
