Elliott sighed as he threw himself at the creaky sofa that has become his bed. Joanne rubbed his back with a chuckle. Joshua entered the room with a smile but the smile faded as he looked at the scene. Elliott watched him with a frown before ignoring Joshua’s strange mood. He was far too tired to deal with it.

“How did it go?” Elliott asked.

“We caught most of the stragglers. Ronan’s pack is pretty much dissolved. Most have returned to our side. Only a few are missing,” Joshua replied and did not let Joanne go with his eyes. Joanne hurriedly removed her hands and curled up on the sofa to make herself look smaller. Elliott growled warningly at Joshua who merely gave him a smirk.

“Who is missing?”

“Some of the pack members Ronan brought with him. Most likely ran back to the Walsh family. Oh, and Mark Rowe along with some of his goons,” Joshua shrugged.

Elliott grumbled. Mark again. What’s up with that lad?

“This was a fucking mess,” Elliott repeated for the hundredth time.

“Oh, I don’t know, mon cheri. I think it worked out perfectly. Ronan is out of the picture and Dale is safe,” Joshua sat down on a chair across from Elliott who sat himself into a more dignified position.

“Blake was tricked into using some strange form of magic by a spy of the coven and we have no idea why. Ronan escaped. He is not out of the picture. And we still haven’t averted the crisis of the incoming war with the witches,” Elliott muttered.

“One crisis at the time. Focus on your achievements rather than your current problems, cheri. That will lighten your heart,” Joshua chuckled. He was right, Elliott could not only focus on what he hadn’t done without remembering what he had achieved.

“When did you become so wise?”

“I was always wise. I just hid it well,” Joshua leaned back in the chair making sure that Elliott got a nice view of his muscles under the tight t-shirt. Damn, it was hard to focus. Well, focus on the right thing.

Joanne, on the other hand, was not shy about looking at the scenery. She cocked an eyebrow at Elliott and he could hear her unspoken question clearly. Why haven’t you hit that?

Because he wanted a stable relationship, not a quick shag. Elliott sighed and thought that Idris Nemain seemed more open about a relationship. Then it suddenly hit him.

“The Justicar might be able to find out what Frank Lloyd is up to.”

Joshua grimaced at the mention of Idris Nemain and refused to look at Elliott.

“Would the Justicar speak to you?” Joanne asked. Elliott’s eyes still followed Joshua. Should he? No, it’s immature… Silvergale huffed from his mind edging him on.

“He might, if I put on a fancy suit.”

“Oh, he likes you,” Joanne said with a grin before it faded after hearing Joshua’s low growl. Mission accomplished.

“I don’t know but he is certainly flirting. Either way, he seemed to care for Blake so I think he might be willing to give us some information,” Elliott said with a shrug. He peered at Joshua who was back to his neutral expression. Though he did seem to give him a smirk when he noticed Elliott peeking at him.

“I’m not so sure that we should trust a Justicar,” Joshua said casually.

“Though I suspect that it's for a different reason than mine, I still agree with your friend here. A witch’s loyalty will always be to their coven. Just as a wolf’s always will be to their pack. We should not put our faith too much on the Justicar,” said Joanne. Elliott sighed and leaned his head against the wall. They are correct of course. Idris seems fiercely loyal to the coven even if he did not agree with them at all costs. Still, it could not hurt to ask. Could it?

*****

Blake peeked over at Alex who had laid himself to rest on his bed and refused to look at him. He just turned his back on him and glared into the wall. Blake fidgeted with his fingers while trying to come up with a way of asking what he wanted to ask but no sound came out of him.

“Bloody hell, Blake!” Alex grumbled and sat up.”I can hear your heartbeat like a drum from here. What do you want to know?”

“That my father is a practitioner of the Dark Arts? That he siphon other people's magic? That he siphon them until they are nothing but dry corpse left? He did all those things and more.”

“Why? How? He isn’t a witch!”

Alex sighed and rubbed his face. “Dark Arts can be used even by those who haven’t magic. They just have to steal others' magic with Siphon by using magical artifacts. There are some nasty ones out there.”

Alex laid himself back and stare up at the ceiling. “When my father married my mother he found out about the supernatural. He became obsessed and collected magical artifacts. He was always disappointed that he could not use magic himself and sought a way to change that. My mother noticed his obsession but too late she realized to what depths that man could go to feed his obsession.”

The silence was painfully obvious while Blake forced himself to wait for Alex to continue.

“He found a dagger or a Kris to be exact, called Setan Kober that was infused with Dark magic. It could steal other people's magic and give it to the owner but it makes them greedy and ambitious. Obsessed. He used it once, did not kill it first but soon… It wasn’t enough to just steal some pinches of their magic. He needed more. The Dark Magic made him addicted to it. He craved it like he craved food. It was just a matter of time before he killed.”

“Did you know?”

“I want to say no but only a blind could say so. It was obvious that he… That something was wrong. He changed so much. Sometimes he was kind and eager to teach me about magical artifacts. Othertimes… He was so cold. I was just a child. How was I supposed to know that he drove off in the middle of the night burying a body? How was I supposed to know that he was covered in blood?”

Alex covered his face and his voice trembled as he spoke in mere whispers. “I was five years old when I one night went outside to the car. My father had just closed the trunk and smiled at me when I came into the garage in my pajamas. I asked him what he was doing and I heard… God, I heard a voice asking me to help her. That he was going to kill her. My father just smiled and told me that this was our little secret before he drove off.”

Blake felt his body going cold as he listened. Alex shook as he remembered the grim memory. “I should have bloody told someone. Go to my mum. Anything. But instead, I just went to bed. That poor girl. I remember seeing people finding her body later on the tv. I could have saved her!”

“You were just a child. You didn’t know better.”

“I was afraid!”

“Of course you were. Your father was a monster.”

Alex shook his head. “No, I was afraid of losing him. I knew what he did was bad. Not how bad but… I was afraid that he would be taken away. I wanted him to stay so I said nothing. People died because I didn’t want to lose my father. How many? How many died before my mom found out and tried to stop him?!”

Blake went over to Alex's bed and curled up beside him. “It is not your fault Alex. It was his deeds. Not yours.”

Alex let out a grimaced and forced himself to look at Blake with red eyes. “I cannot let him go this time, Blake. This time I will stop him.”

“We both will.”

*****

Elliott nervously straightens his suit and drank a sip of the wine. Well, more than a sip. Idris was late and Elliott feared that he would not come while he listened to the clock tick. The Bistro was nearly empty which suited his needs as he wanted to speak with Idris in private. This was not a topic that needed to be overheard by a local witch.

He was just about to give up when the door opened and Idris Nemain entered still looking fetching in a suit. He soon smiled as he spotted Elliott in the corner.

“You remembered my favorite dish,” Idris said as the food was soon served.

Elliott smiled as he noticed that Nemain looked pleased,” I would be a poor host if I did not even remember what you liked.”

“Though the food and charming company surely pleased me. I have a feeling that the topic is less pleasant,” Idris said and drank some of the wine like he needed something to get through it.

“I hoped for some information on Mr. Lloyd,” Elliott confessed.

“I think you are in a better position than me to get information on Alex Lloyd.”

“I’m talking about his father Frank Lloyd.”

Idris seemed to hesitate before he replied,”the man is a criminal. He has killed an unfathomable number of people and has carved a bloody path through this land.”

“That I know. What I don’t know is why he is here? Causing trouble. Convincing Blake to use Apery to almost lose himself into a wolfshape.”

Idris eyes went wide for a second before he closed them getting his expression under control. “Is Mr. Oakley unharmed?”

“Shaken but fine.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“I suspect that this has something to do with the trial. It seems like someone is trying to discredit Blake. Convince him that he is a dark practitioner.”

“Which would suit the Graycrests need,” Idris muttered biting his lip. “but without proof, I cannot accuse them of-“

“I’m not asking you to accuse them. I want to know what their plan is. Anything to give us a hint would be fine.”

“I wish I could be of help but I am not sure why the Graycrest would hire a serial murderer to frame Blake. It seems-“

“Too extreme to be them,” Elliott finished Idris sentence while uttering his own doubt. It doesn’t sound like the Graycrests but he could not think of anyone else that could do this.

“I am afraid so,” said Idris.

“Then is there something else at play here? Something we’re missing?”

“Possibly, the schemes of witches are plenty and deep like the roots of the World Tree. There might be others that want Blake dead. The Harwin for example, if Blake dies then the trial must continue without the Graycrests scapegoat. Which means that Fingal Keir will be punished.”

“Or maybe some druid has a vendetta against the slayer of the World Tree,” Idris continued with a shrug. “So far, you have only looked at the people at the front but there are so many with motives. This town is like a haven of sin and secrets.”

“You’re right but not all have the ability to hire Mr. Lloyd,” Elliott muttered before sighing. “I just wanted to lift some burden off Blake’s shoulder. He just a child.”

Idris perused Elliott before staring down into the wineglass. “He might be a child but chaos run through that lad like he was born out of it. It changes those around him for good or ill. He is powerful. Too powerful. Mortals will try to either take advantage of him or destroy him out of fear.”

“You speak like an old soul.”

Idris chuckled,” powerful witches will always grow up too fast. The world demands it of them.”

“Speaking of experience?”

“I might. Hopefully, this trial will soon be over and all will be well,” said Idris and Elliott frowned at the now empty plates. He could only hope but something still gnawed at him. Like cold northern winds coming down the hills.

Why did he feel like the world was still crumbling beneath his feet?