In any other situation, I would have found the Hedquist manor beautiful. The walls were built of grey and black stone, the roof coming together in steeples of black shingles that brought to mind palaces in fairy tales. The windows were all edged in a creamy off-white that looked pristine against the dark stone. Though ivy and vines crept up the tall walls of the three-story building, it was clear they were maintained in careful patterns to give the mansion the appeal of a home that had been handed down through generations.

Warm light spilled from the many large glass windows on the lower to floor to illuminate a sweeping, elegantly manicured lawn of thriving green grass. The blades sparkled with dew that was collecting as faint light began to build on the horizon; with dawn approaching, I could make out the shape of lines of trees just past the lawn, a faint shimmer of water on the eastern side of the grass. 

A faint tug at my neck dragged my attention back to Ian, walking briskly in front of me along the black stone path which broke the sweeping expanse of the lawn. It led up to a small front, circular front porch lined with large ebony columns that supported a balcony just above. Ian’s steps faltered slightly as he looked up to the balcony… and the figure staring down at us.

My heart stuttered, a chill sinking into my bones as I stared up at the balcony. The railing was crafted of stone and black iron, barbed points forged between thick supports. A man stood with his hands clenched tightly around the top of the railing, and though I couldn’t see his expression, his posture screamed of violent anger. I flinched as the man shoved back from the balcony, spinning to throw open a glass door and storm inside.

Gaze dropping down to Ian again, I saw his back was stiff, his shoulders tight. The softly glowing chain of my leash was clenched tightly in his fisted hand; it created a constant pressure at my throat, urging me forward in an attempt to keep up with his stalking steps. I had to hurry, trying to stretch my legs and lengthen my stride so I could catch up to Ian as he paced up the few steps to the small porch.

Passing the massive columns, I felt a cold, wet shiver down my spine- the feeling of a curtain of unnatural magic which protected the mansion’s entrance. It had parted to allow Ian through, but I could feel it close just as I passed through me, brushing against my skin like gossamer fabric swinging back in place.

It made me feel trapped- like the door of a cage had swung shut behind me, and Ian held the key. My gaze fixed on him as he reached for the door, a dark whisper in the back of my mind making the hair on my nape stand up; it was a brush of power I desperately ignored, one that said I could kill Ian here and get away before anybody even noticed what happened. I reached up almost on instinct, and the chain attached to my neck started to glow brighter.

Ian turned, his hand catching my wrist before I could make contact, the whisper of magic at my fingertips quickly dissolving into nothing. His pale gaze was sharp and cold, mouth pressed into a thin line, as he stared down at me. I hissed in pain as his grip grew crushingly tight around my wrist. His lips parted, but whatever he meant to say was lost as the door to the mansion opened from the inside.

The man who stood in the doorway was one I faintly recognized from news segments and magazine interviews. He towered over Ian by several inches, broad and heavily muscled in a way that would have made me think he was a servant if I didn’t know any better. I could hardly recall any other alchemists that cared for their physical appearance- but then again, I didn’t know of any other alchemists who played the role of their family’s enforcer.

“I see the prodigal son has returned. How disappointing,” the man drawled, leaning one arm against the doorframe to keep Ian from walking through. He tipped his head, dusky ashen blonde hair falling over his heavy brow, making the faint wrinkles of middle age stand out more. His eyes were a dark brown, sliding to me and raking over me in a way that made me shrink back a step. A leer pulled at his lips as he stepped forward, brushing past Ian as if he didn’t exist so he could grab my chin with his thick fingers. “Aren’t you a lovely little thing? You’ll make pretty babies-”

“Knock it off, Logan.” Ian’s voice was brimming with cold anger as he pushed between me and the older man. He raised his hand, giving a sharp pull at the leash which still glowed where it wrapped around his fingers; it made me wobble, hands catching at Ian’s suit jacket as I fought to keep my balance.

The man raised an eyebrow, looking at the leash around Ian’s hand before his gaze returned to me. His hand placed against one of the columns to stretch over my head, he leaned down to speak almost in my ear. “Shame, I could show you a much better time than that halfwit. Just say the word, and I can take you off his hands.”

I shuddered, pressing closer to Ian; something in the man’s gaze told me that offer would be the death of me. I swallowed, releasing my hold on Ian’s suit jacket to stand straighter. I couldn’t show weakness… or Logan would swallow me whole. “Thanks for the offer,” I managed to keep my tone cool, “But I think I’ll be just fine with him. As far as I can tell, I got the pick of the litter.”

A dark rage crossed Logan’s face, his tone dropping to a growl. “Think you’re funny, do you? We’ll see how long that lasts when I throw you in with the rest of the breeders-”

“Logan!” The voice that boomed between us that time wasn’t Ian’s. I was shocked to see Logan’s anger recede behind a wash of fear, his hands quickly snatched away as he took a step back from me. He looked back into the manor, much more subdued as he waited for the voice to bark again, “Escort them inside, we don’t need another incident.”

“Yes, father,” Logan responded immediately, docile as a kitten as he stepped inside the manor to hold the door open for us. Though he bowed his head, I could see his glare fixed on me as Ian stepped forward, and I was dragged along by the shimmering links of my ethereal chain.

It was dim inside the manor’s entryway, a wide space with several doors leading off to either side and ending in a set of stairs that branched off in either direction to lead to the balconies of the second floor. Lush, dark purple carpeting created a path down the center of the black marble floor- leading to the man I had seen on the balcony, standing now at the bottom of the stairs.

Where Logan had been physically intimidating, this man outwardly seemed harmless. His build was nothing more than average, of around the same height as Ian; with his arms folded over his chest, it accented a faint hint of muscle, but only that of a man falling out of his prime. His pale, thin fingers tapped against his upper arm in a show of impatience, a frown creasing a face lined with wrinkles. Soot gray hair fell in loose sheets to his waist, raked severely back from his face to accentuate his eyes.

It was there that I found a threat much greater than Logan presented; the wrathful chill in his eyes struck me to my core. I could feel artificial magic radiating from him as if it had soaked into his very being, and it made my stomach churn. It didn’t take much of a pull against my leash to have me stumbling forward, my weak legs giving out to bring me to my knees- paying respects to the patriarch of the Hedquist family like a good slave.

“Greetings, grandfather,” Ian murmured, bowing his head to the older man. 

With a hard scoff, the man gave up his position to stalk forward. Without so much as a glance to me, he walked straight up to Ian. I didn’t know what I expected when he drew his arm back- but it wasn’t to hear the sharp crack of flesh smacking against flesh, Ian giving a faint sound of pain as he dropped to his knees next to me.

I hardly dared to move, but I glanced sideways to see his pale skin reddened on the side of his face. Ian’s jaw was set as he bowed his head down, silent and passive as his grandfather glared down at him. His hands splayed against the carpet, and I winced as the older man took another step forward to bring his foot down over Ian’s fingers with brutal intent.

“I though I told you not to bring home another stray,” the man said, his voice even- as if having casual conversation, not crushing his grandson’s hand underfoot.

Ian sucked in a breath, his voice astonishingly clear as he said, “Grandfather, please allow me to explain-” His words ended in another grinding sound of anguish as the older man ground his heel against the back of Ian’s hand.

“No need,” his grandfather said coldly, finally relenting in his punishing actions. It wasn’t a relief, as the man’s frigid brown gaze turned to me instead, and he said with chilling calm, “I’ll just have to take care of this rat myself.”