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Maddox’s brow went higher still.
“He’s in the kitchen,” Lorien trailed off, somewhat guilty. He was very fortunate Maddox was in a spectacularly good mood.
Will was in the kitchen, Mads discovered. He was gagged and tangled in a ball of chains on the kitchen floor, to be precise. To Mad’s surprise there weren’t really many signs of a struggle. Will was tangled up in the chains on the kitchen floor. He had also been gagged. He was fast asleep with his head against the oven, apparently unconcerned about his unorthodox incarceration — or, more likely, having given up at finding himself in the predicament for an extended period of time.
“I didn’t want to let him go, as he was making threats,” Lorien explained from what he might have imagined was a safe distance. No distance would have been safe if Maddox had decided to discipline him for this act of rank bullying.
“I can imagine he was.” Maddox shot Lorien a dire look that promised a future reckoning as he stooped down, picked Will’s sleeping form up and carried him back upstairs. The chains were as easy to snap as cotton to him. He opted to do that rather than attempt to undo the tangle of links which held his pup captive.
Will stirred as he was settled into bed. “Lorien tied me up,” he said through half-closed eyes.
“I know.”
“Gonna kill him,” he added, grabbing the pillow and pressing his face against it.
Adorable.
Maddox left Will to sleep after what had clearly been a very hard night and and went back downstairs, wondering if it was worth it to attempt to censure Lorien, or if it would simply be giving him the attention he so clearly craved.
A little light hazing would not hurt Will at all. If anything, it would make his reflexes more keen and his aggression more keenly turned toward vampires. Familiarity breeding contempt was still a viable strategy as far as Mads was concerned.
“You cannot attack Will. He's delicate. He’s human.”
“Well. Human adjacent. I had to chain him up.”
“Why?”
Lorien looked about, as if an answer might appear written on the walls. He was a ninety-year-old vampire and sometimes he still had the mannerisms of a human a fraction of his age.
“Okay. I wanted to chain him up. I was home alone. It was boring. I can’t go out until Bertram and Ernest forget I exist. So…”
“Well. On that note, I may have some good news.”
“You got them to forgive me?”
Lorien really didn’t deserve the good news, so Maddox did not tell him. Besides, there was a knocking at the door, an inappropriately timed, excessively late, overly entitled knocking. He knew who it was even before he opened the door.
“Agent Chauvelin,” he greeted the federal agent.
“Could I ask you some questions?” Chauvelin didn’t bother apologizing for bothering him at home so late.
“Of course. Please, come in.”
The short man stepped over his threshold without anything obvious in the way of fear or hesitation. Mads was reminded of the saying about fools rushing in where angels feared to tread. Ironic that they had met in a place of worship.
Chauvelin looked around the place, inspecting everything with a keen and discerning eye. He would not find anything of interest. That was half the reason Maddox chose the absence of decor he did. Intruders had little to destroy or deface, and investigators had nothing to investigate.
“Is this your primary residence?”
“It is.”
Chauvelin cast another doubtful eye around the place. “You don’t have personal items?”
“Have you come here to get personal?” Maddox asked the question with casual softness. Chauvelin had come in with all the stuffed importance of a person with a federal badge, but this was Mad’s territory, and here he reigned supreme.
The agent coughed, blushed, and composed himself in a matter of seconds. It was a very impressive transformation.
“As I understand it, a fledgling of yours was attacked on the orders of B and E.”
They’d already been reduced to letters, mere notations of their former selves. Most gratifying. Maddox took a seat and gestured for Chauvelin to do the same. The agent did not take the offer; he stood there being spectacularly awkward.
“I do not have any fledglings, or progeny of any kind.”
“Really? That’s atypical for a vampire of your age and origin.”
Maddox smiled gently. “I am atypical in many respects,” he agreed.
“Still, a young vampire who was worth your while coming to see the twins about, if not a fledgling of your own…”
“You’ve done your homework, Mr Chauvelin.”
“Agent Chauvelin.”
“Of course, my apologies.”
Maddox knew better than to volunteer additional information to a law enforcement officer clearly fishing for something.
“So an acquaintance of yours suffered injuries recently?” Chauvelin tried again.
“Vampires suffer injuries all the time. Many of them enjoy it. Pain is one of the few human pleasures left to us.”
“So you’re saying this individual enjoyed having his throat ripped out.”
