The meeting had ended ten minutes ago, and Gray had been cornered by one of the harried-looking officers.

He'd started briefing Gray about the finer points of the tombs in excruciating detail before getting sidetracked by a history of sorcerers.

A long, in-depth history.

Gray darted a glance across the room.

The office was empty save for Jessica and Killian.

They were in deep conversation, their heads bent over a map, close enough to be touching.

Jessica laughed. She and Killian were locking gazes, she was brushing her hand over Killian's-

Gray withheld a groan and straightened his back, returning his attention to the harried-looking officer. Judging by how much Killian and Jessica were enjoying each other's company, he was going to be stuck here for an age.

The harried-looking officer was tired enough that his speech was agonisingly slow, but not tired enough to leave.

Gray was literally cornered. If he wanted to leave, he'd have to push past this man.

The fatigue within Gray had changed into a prickling irritation and an unsteady looseness as though he'd drunk too much cider. Gray darted a second glance at Killian and Jessica. If he could just catch Killian's eye, maybe he could indicate it was time to leave …

Killian's gaze had settled onto Jessica's mouth. And his gaze looked like it was going to stay there. Fall damn well in.

Clochaint.

Gray resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

'… The Ancients had a complicated relationship with sorcerers,' the officer cornering Gray droned. 'Most don't know this, but during times of disaster, the Ancients would work with them. Enemies during peace and allies during war …'

Gray's mind snapped to attention. He took the man in properly for the first time.

Horn-rimmed glasses sat on the end of his arched nose. His black eyes were edged in red from tiredness, and his skin was badly pockmarked and greying from stress. His grey uniform was crumpled after a long day and he had several badges and awards pinned to the front that Gray didn't recognise.

'Excuse me?' said Gray. 'Did you say allies?'

The officer nodded, as slow as his speech. 'Thought that might interest you, given your history. Shocking, isn't it? It's disputed, of course, but there's enough evidence to suggest this was true. Some say the sorcerers of old were different to modern sorcerers, who are completely untrustworthy, psychopathic, and violent, and …'

'But, allies?' Gray prodded, trying to politely get the man back on track.

'Yes,' he said.

'There's evidence for this?' said Gray.

The man stroked his stubbled chin, seemingly pleased to have caught Gray's interest. 'There are several sources that suggest this, though they are difficult to find …'

What sources? Gray wanted to demand. Sources that weren't deliberately erased, a small thought answered at the back of his mind. And because sorcerers were secretive, and there wasn't much known about them at all, and some literature had gone during the purge.

He made himself stay quiet, listening as the man slowly, agonisingly, continued.

'… And certain sorcerers agreed to take a vampire bite to become immortal and to guard the most precious of the Ancients' tombs,' the man was saying, 'as you are now well aware, given the Krydon crisis. Scholars theorise it was done as an agreement or gesture of peace, a sign of gratitude for an incident lost to time. They agreed to guard the tombs, and honouring this agreement became the vampiric sorcerer's highest desire, ruthlessly so …'

Guard the tombs. The vampiric sorcerer's highest desire.

Gray stared at the officer, as something slotted together in his mind.

The rituals he'd been looking at, for Codder. Maybe he'd been looking at the wrong ones.

Maybe, this vampiric sorcerer, he was using the ritual to protect.

Not for power.

Not for food, or violence, or destruction.

Or, perhaps, the vampiric sorcerer wanted to close the tombs he'd crawled out of.

'… Something went wrong with the vampire bite,' the man continued, 'and instead of consuming blood, they consume energy, especially magic, melancholy, and the latest theory, of course, is voices and tears, too …'

Gray's heart was beginning to hammer.

This changed things.

The vampiric sorcerer was still a monster, it still had ruthlessly murdered Alistair and Rowan, and it would kill more, but if the vampiric sorcerer was doing this ritual to close or protect the tombs, this was a clear way into negotiation. Surely?

This vampiric sorcerer wanted to guard its territory.

If Gray was right about this.

If they played this right, maybe -

'Killian did mention a theory, from one of his top men, of a ritual,' said the man. 'Which I also need to brief you on. Don't let me get sidetracked, but a ritual like this has never been recorded before, which is fascinating.'

'Never recorded before?' said Gray faintly.

'Well,' said the man, 'I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that the northerners have stories of swamp vampires performing rituals - no doubt you've heard some of these in your northern school, yes? - but so far this has all been discredited as folklore, and they are a bit different …'

Gray's pulse thrummed under his skin.

'Excuse me,' he said, nodding to the man. 'Thank you - sir.'

Gray strode over to the table. 'Killian. Killian?'

Killian extracted his hand away from Jessica. They'd been tracing paths over the map, her hand guiding his.

'Ready to go, kid?'

Gray nodded, snatching up Killian's discarded cap from the table and shoving it at him.

'Let's go, Killian.'

Gray nodded at Jessica, and ushered Killian out.

'Problem?' said Killian, bemused.

'No problem, no,' Gray said, urging Killina to move faster.

Gray was practically running through the corridors.

'I need to go to the library,' said Gray. He glanced back at Killian. 'It'd be open, now, right?'

'I'm not sure, kid,' said Killian. There was veiled annoyance in his dark gaze. 'Book emergency?'

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

'Do you know where it is?' said Gray, lengthening his stride. 'Can we go there, please?'

There was a sharp silence.

'Please, Killian.'

'The city library?' said Killian curtly. 'The University library? The military academy library? What library? There are about a hundred here. You're not in Krydon.'

Gray slowed. Stopped, hesitating. Not because he didn't know which library he needed - history, rituals, sorcerers, they'd all be in the biggest main library, surely - but because an annoyed Killian was unlikely to take him on any kind of excursions.

'What do you need to know?' said Killian. When Gray continued to hesitate, Killian said, heaving out a sigh that didn't veil his annoyance at all, 'Kid, it's almost eleven. You need to eat something and go to sleep. I should've been prioritising that. You need to get up early tomorrow. Whatever it is, it can wait.'

Gray ran a hand through his hair. 'I need to research.'

'Research what?' said Killian.

Killian's gaze was back down the corridor they'd just walked, clearly searching for Jessica.

'I spoiled your sauce,' said Gray. 'I know, I'm sorry. But I … I just …'

'Spoiled my sauce?' repeated Killian softly. 'Gods, I don't even want to know what the hell that means.'

'You know,' said Gray. 'Spoiled your sauce with Jessica.'

'Repeating the exact same phrase is helpful,' said Killian. 'Thanks.'

'I inflected,' said Gray. 'You know what it means.'

'Rule five,' said Killian, drawing himself up. 'You can't say spoiled your sauce to me.'

Gray was quiet for a beat. 'Let's make that rule go both ways. I'm sorry for bringing it up.'

'I'm going to spoil your sauce,' said Killian, 'any time I get even a whiff of you saucing.'

'Uggh,' said Gray, striding away.

'Research what, kid?' Killian called after him.

'How to erase you saying that from my memory,' muttered Gray.

'Hm?' said Killian, easily catching up to Gray's half-trot. 'Hood up. We get all sorts through the barracks, and I'm not in the mood for a brawl or a stalker, let alone a sorcerer fight. Not after today. It was - trying, to say the least …'

Gray fumbled with his hood.

'By the by,' said Killian, clearing his throat, 'I got your horse from Ravestead.'

Gray froze, all thoughts leaving his head. 'You got Fudgie?'

'White sock? Scar under the eye? Has already figured out how to lift the lock on his stall door? Is kind of an asshole?'

That was Fudgie. Gray gaped at Killian, utterly speechless. Uncertainty and shock warred within him.

'The horse seemed important to you, so …' Killian shifted his shoulders. 'Good with fahrenning, by all reports. The horse is doing well, settling into the palace stables as we speak-'

Gray's chest filled with a fast and sudden bolt of warmth. 'Can I see him? Can we go now?'

'Before or after the library?' said Killian, with a small half smile.

'Before, for sure.' Gray grinned. His heart soared. 'I can't believe it. You did this?'

'Rude,' said Killian, smiling more.

Why? Gray pushed the questions down. He didn't care why. He cared that Fudgie was safe. He'd spent hours at night, hoping Fudgie had been taken in by someone kind, and wrestling with guilt for abandoning him there.

Gray didn't care if this incurred more debt for him. He didn't care if this was Killian's attempt to assuage his own conscience or even if it was an attempt to sway Gray into agreeing to join Killian's team.

Fudgie was here.

'Thank you,' said Gray, laughing. 'Sorry. I - he's good? He's happy? What did -'

'Kid, what do you want the library for?'

Gray shook his head, trying to focus.

'If the vampiric sorcerer is killing to create a ritual,' said Gray, 'the question is what's the ritual for, right? A creature as powerful and dangerous as a vampiric sorcerer, what could they possibly want a ritual for that he can't achieve on his own?'

'You rushed me away from Jessica for this?' said Killian. 'You're lucky I'm feeling generous, kid.'

'I think he wants to guard the tombs,' said Gray. 'Wong's encyclopaedia said that they're rarely encountered outside their tombs, that their existence is bound to the tombs they're tasked with protecting. The old man in there-'

'Gray,' said Killian, 'that's a very distinguished person. Don't call him old man. His name is Hoggs.'

'Hypocrite, much?' said Gray, breaking the rhythm of his walk. 'This morning you called me a scrawny orphan.'

'You're not distinguished, though.' Killian's lips twitched.

Gray shot him a look.

'And while we're at it,' said Killian, 'Jessica's your commanding officer and needs to be addressed as such, not as Jessica-'

'Fine,' said Gray. He wasn't going to argue. 'Hoggs said that guarding the tombs is the vampiric sorcerer's highest desire. The ritual is to reseal the tombs, or to protect them somehow, I bet you. Through a dark, crap-fest of a-'

'Gray.'

'- messed-up ritual,' finished Gray. 'I think I need to be looking at rituals for protection, not power, not destruction.'

'It doesn't matter what the ritual is,' said Killian. 'We're killing the vampiric sorcerer. Or Longwark's going to be taking a good stab at it, and Jessica's going to finish it off.'

'But, we need the vampiric sorcerer.'

'We need it?' said Killian. 'Kid, this thing killed your stepbrother. It killed your friend. It killed … my man.'

'What if we use it to navigate the tombs,' said Gray. 'To retrieve the jar. Then we kill it. If I'm right about the ritual, we can reorder this whole plan-'

'Use it,' repeated Killian, softly, 'then kill it.'

'Yes,' said Gray. 'It knows the tombs. The Ancients worked with sorcerers, sorcerers agreed to take on a vampire bite to guard the Ancient's tombs. Clearly, this vampiric sorcerer loved the Ancients. Maybe we can talk to it. Reason with it, offer to help reseal the tomb, protect it. We stop the killings, and we use the mages the king sends-'

'Shit, kid. That's,' Killian paused, 'ruthless. Cold. I didn't think you had it in you, frankly, but you're not going to negotiate with that thing, I'm sorry-'

'We get the jar with its help, and then we kill it. It can't be any worse than Lunn, and he wasn't-'

'You saying kill it so casually is somewhat concerning,' said Killian. 'And this is me talking. I don't think you understand what you're saying.'

'I understand what I'm saying,' Gray said. 'I can figure this out. I just need the library.'

'Kid,' said Killian, 'you kept a moth in a jar in that gaol, because, what - you couldn't kill it for whatever hair-brained alchemy you wanted to create?'

Gray had been expecting Killian to go into the logistics of how difficult it would be to kill a vampiric sorcerer. Not this.

He felt himself turn red. 'The moth was different.'

'I think you've had a very long day, and you need to sleep because you're getting manic, and you're saying a bunch of crap you don't actually mean. I think you've been surrounded by a lot of testosterone and very tough people, and it's starting to rub off on you.'

Gray slowed, stung. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Don't teenagers need about ten hours sleep a night?'

Gray let out a low breath. 'Out of that whole spiel that's not what I had an issue with.'

Killian adjusted his cuffs. 'Well, don't they?'

'I don't know,' Gray said, controlling his tone. Killian had just gotten Fudgie, brought him to Dierne for him. Gray wasn't going to fight with him. 'I've never had ten straight hours of sleep in my life.'

'Well, maybe you should've,' said Killian bluntly.

Gray lowered his gaze, to hide the heat he could feel in his stare.

So, he guessed that was a no to going to the library.

Gods.

'I don't think you realise what it takes to look someone in the eye,' said Killian, 'talk with them, work with them, and then kill them. Kid, the reality of performing that, you couldn't do it, even with a vampiric sorcerer. Not without extensive training first. And if you did, it would destroy you. You get nightmares at night - and I know you do - it'll get ten times worse if you befriend that damn thing before you kill it. Not that it's not a bad strategy, I'll mention it to Jessica, but you're not doing any - what is it?'

Gray had come to an abrupt stop.

There was a silkiness in the air that was so subtle that Gray had missed it building around him. He'd only noticed it now because he had started doing his breathing to calm down his pulse.

The silkiness was getting closer.

Faster.

'Are there mages here?' Gray asked.

'What?'

Something deep, something old, had shifted within Gray.

A memory.

He'd felt this silkiness in the air before.

Killian stared at Gray, his dark eyes watchful.

'I know this person,' said Gray, turning on the spot. 'I know this signature.'

'You know any mage soldiers?' said Killian softly.

'No. It's - he -'

Killian body-slammed Gray through a side door.

Gray stumbled into a large, unlit storage space.

'Shush,' said Killian.

'Excuse me?' said Gray, rubbing his arm where Killian had body-slammed him.

Killian swiftly shut the door behind him and dragged a pile of boxes across as a barricade. 'Quiet.'

Outside, the faint sounds of approaching footsteps drifted through the door.

Softly, 'Kid, can you mask your magic?'

'What?'

'Kid,' Killian whispered, fast and clipped. 'Do you know how to mask?'

'This signature's not bad,' said Gray. 'It's just-'

'Gray.'

This was one thing Gray could do, that he'd been doing his whole life. Masking his magic was pushing it down, down, down. So far down it was barely there. He layered wall upon wall within himself.

Gray shot Killian a look, and took the dagger Killian offered him.

Killian gestured for Gray to get back, into the far shadows of the room. Gestured for Gray to get under the darkest, smallest space, underneath a bench.

Gray hesitated, eyeing the small, airless space, before steeling himself and crawling into the shadows.

Killian pressed himself against the wall by the door.

The footsteps were right outside.

And Gray could feel the silkiness in the air, getting the sudden impression it was a masking of a much bigger power, just as Gray was currently doing.

It was masking a lot, and masking so well that Gray couldn't get a grip on the sensation.

Gray felt the first spike in his pulse. He pushed his magic down further, holding his breath. Pressed himself back further in the small space, into the shadows.

And was hit by a memory so hard, so fast, and so vividly clear, that Gray bit his nails into the floor to stop himself from physically reeling.

He was five and hidden in the darkest shadow, under the three stairs that lead down to the parlour. It was his favourite hiding spot, the one he always used to games of hide and seek, the one Uncle Rory used to store his most precious Foixan flute, the one Conor had told him to run to, but there was no way the Dark Sorcerer wasn't going to find him -

Gray wrenched his mind away.

His skin was slick. He must've been making noise, because Killian had moved from his spot by the door and was now crouched in front of him. One scarred hand squeezed Gray's shoulder, and one gestured silence.

Gray pushed down the burning in his lungs. Down, down, down with his magic.

More.

This silkiness in the air. This skilled masking of magic. This signature.

He had felt it before.

It had been there, in the air, in his memory as a five-year-old.

Conor, Gray mouthed silently to Killian.

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