Soulbound Bk. 01 Ch. 05

Hi again--I'm Alina Hart. Welcome to Chapter 5 of Soulbound: The Awakening (Book One).

All characters involved in sexual situations are 18+, and all intimate scenes are fully consensual.

***

Chapter 5

The late morning sun bathed the sidewalk café in a warm, honeyed glow. Julian reached across the small table to steal the last bite of Aurora's fruit tart, earning a half-hearted glare and a playful kick under the table.

She leaned back in her chair, eyes closed in bliss, letting the taste of buttery pastry and strawberries melt on her tongue. "The only thing that kept me sane--not being able to eat food--was that before I was turned, unless you were royalty, people ate as a necessity of life, not for the sensations I've been experiencing in my mouth the last few days."

Julian chuckled, decided that one was too easy. "I'm happy I get to witness you enjoy these new experiences."

Their quiet moment was interrupted by the briefest flicker of energy--barely a ripple, but Julian felt it. Reflexively, he extended a thread of awareness and gave it the lightest of flicks.

A girl--fifteen at most--stumbled on the sidewalk as if jolted by static, eyes going wide. She scanned the café patio, and her gaze locked on them. She froze.

Aurora lifted her hand and curled a finger in silent invitation. The girl hesitated only a second before walking over, shoulders tensed but chin high.

Julian said nothing as Aurora leaned forward, tone smooth but firm. "Cute trick with the wallet," she said. "You'd have gotten away with it if you hadn't used magic."

The girl stiffened, eyes darting between them. "I didn't--"

Aurora raised an eyebrow.

"... Fine. But it was just a quick charm. Barely more than a nudge."

"What's your name?"

"Wren."

"Just Wren?"

"That's all you're getting."

Aurora leaned back, eyes scanning the girl. "You're young. Too young to be playing with magic on street corners."

Wren rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, bouncing from one foster dump to the next didn't exactly open a lot of doors. And in this city?" Her voice sharpened. "The only ones who get ahead are the ones willing to bleed someone else to do it. I don't steal for kicks. I steal because I've gotta eat--and school supplies aren't free."

"Get a job," Aurora said flatly. "Because now you're on our radar."

Then, almost as an afterthought, she reached out and handed the teen a few bills. "For groceries."

She turned to Julian. "You'll want to know if she steps out of line again. Capture her soul signature."

Wren's eyes widened. "You can do that?"

Julian blinked. "Apparently I can."

Aurora smiled. "It's easy. Just touch her aura--don't yank, just tap--and think of it like tagging her on social media. Remember, intent is everything. If she uses magic for something that triggers your morality meter, you'll feel it."

Wren opened her mouth to object--then thought better of it. She crossed her arms, trying to look unimpressed. "Whatever. I'm not planning anything major."

Julian focused, extended a hand just slightly toward her chest, and reached. A spark--nothing more--danced between them.

"There. Done," he said.

Wren gave him a wary look, then turned on her heel. "Guess I'll go fill out an application at Civic Supply or something."

As she vanished down the street, Aurora leaned back, sipping her coffee. "You just scared her straight."

Julian raised a brow. "You sure about that?"

"I'm hopeful. But now you'll know either way."

Leaving a tip, the attractive couple rose from their table, stepped onto the sidewalk, and walked toward a museum said to be hosting a traveling exhibit worth standing in line for.

Moments later, a man dressed in glossy, bright white--whom nearby patrons had assumed was a street performer on break--rose from his table and followed.

***

"Yeah, Boss man, no trouble from the fuzz. I'm pulling up to the security checkpoint now," the driver said, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.

"Good. Let's keep it that way," Brock Martin replied. "I hate dealing with those leeches, but they pay more for our 'product' than some cartel hothead ever could."

The driver swallowed hard. "Kinda wish the cops had stopped me. These guys make my skin crawl. I always feel like I'm on the menu."

He looked up. A uniformed figure stepped out of the booth.

"Okay--security's here. Wish me luck."

The line went dead.

Brock snorted. "Good luck. Better you than me."

The tractor-trailer rolled to a halt. The driver dropped the window and handed over the clipboard. "Fresh shipment. Just harvested. No need for 1C."

He hoped they'd send him there anyway. Less talking. Less time near the warehouse.

The guard stared at him too long. "Shut her down. I'm checking the cargo

The driver killed the tractor's engine, watching through the mirror as the guard circled to the rear. A sharp knock echoed across the trailer.

"Back up! Anyone jumps, they get a bullet in the legs. You won't die, but it'll hurt like hell."

Inside, the cargo shuffled.

The metal screech of the rear door latches came next--followed by chaos.

"Get back inside!" the guard barked.

A figure burst from the trailer--tall, staggering. Injured, maybe. Or just stiff from hours in the dark.

Then, without warning, someone stood at the driver's door.

He hadn't heard a step.

The man was death-pale, eyes bloodshot with flecks of blue. He leaned close and spoke softly.

"We're not paying for that one."

Then he was gone.

A second later, a scream.

The driver didn't look. He knew.

The vampire was sampling the product.

Moments later, the guard stormed back and flung the clipboard through the open window. It caught the driver's face, leaving a thin crimson line across his left cheek.

"Not a word," the guard growled. "Say one thing, and I throw you in the back and drive this thing myself."

The driver said nothing. Just turned the key, released the air brake, and rolled toward the main building's loading dock.

The trailer rocked as the truck backed in. Tires crunched gravel. The driver gripped the wheel tighter, watching the bay draw closer in the mirrors.

He hit the brakes, shut down the engine, and stepped out.

The vampire was waiting.

"Uh... I'm Eddie," he said. "You the one I'm delivering to? What's your name?"

The vampire stared at the cut on his cheek, eyes gleaming. "My name is unimportant," he said. "My position? Let's say... Beverage Manager."

Eddie's stomach turned. "Right. Big delivery tonight--fifty in total. Can I start unloading?"

The vampire raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the yard and the corpse that hadn't been moved. "We ordered fifty. I'm fairly sure you delivered forty-nine."

Eddie hesitated. "I, uh... I did deliver fifty. One escaped, your guy couldn't stop him... and, well... you ate him."

The vampire's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Strange. I didn't see you unload. This dock's our only offload location for pre-washed product. If washing had been required you would have delivered them to building 1C."

Eddie's hands started to shake. "Oh--uh, I thought the contract was to deliver them to this address, and that whatever happens once they're on the property is the client's responsibility."

The vampire gave a small nod. "No problem. Happens sometimes. One or two run every load."

He turned back to Eddie. "Call your boss. Him and I will get this sorted."

Relief hit Eddie like a gust of wind. He fumbled his phone, dialed.

"Hey, Mr. Martin? We've got a small hiccup. The Beverage Manager wants a word... no, I don't know his name. Just--just take the call."

He handed the phone over.

The vampire's tone was calm. Measured.

"We paid in advance. We ordered fifty. Forty-nine were received. If you want your truck back, send a driver."

He turned to Eddie, smiling faintly.

"I'm keeping this one."

***

Not yet finished unpacking, Julian had drifted to the wall-to-wall windows, taking in the view for the first time.

He crossed his arms as he looked out over the city.

"I used to feel differently about this city. I used to think this place was... good," he said quietly. "Not perfect, but decent. Safe, even. But maybe that's just how it felt--because I was too young to know better."

Aurora joined him, her gaze following the jagged line where clean skyline gave way to fractured blocks and rusted rooftops.

"You weren't wrong," she said. "Last time I was here was thirty years ago. Clean streets. Low crime. People trusted each other."

She exhaled, her tone darkening. "Something broke this place. You can see it in the eyes of the people who live here."

Julian was silent for a beat, then looked over at her with a soft smile. "I've thought about moving away for months. If I had, you wouldn't have found me. You made staying actually worth it."

Aurora stared at Julian, a rare but measurable lust visible in her eyes--but before she could act, they were pulled from the moment by a noise from somewhere down the hall.

Julian glanced toward the door, brow furrowing. "Is... is Geoffrey humming in the guest bathroom?"

Aurora tilted her head slightly. "What? Why would he be in there? He doesn't need a bathroom."

Smiling, he nodded slowly. "That somehow makes it worse."

Aurora let the moment linger before nudging him gently with her shoulder. "I've been thinking about something."

Julian turned to look at her, already suspicious.

She smirked. "When I told you I bought a 'comfortable condo,' I may have... under-exaggerated."

Julian gave her a look. "Just slightly."

"The reality is, we now own a penthouse," she said, spreading her arms. "Three bedrooms. We're using the master suite, obviously. Geoffrey has already made a few comments about the other two going to waste."

Julian snorted. "Of course he has."

"He said he's perfectly happy to watch old showtunes all night while we sleep. And that he doesn't even need sound, since he can read lips in every language on the planet."

Julian closed his eyes briefly. "Why does that not surprise me?"

Aurora smiled. "So, I've been thinking. I look forward to a very long life with you--I'd wish on every star in the universe if I thought it would help make that true. And at the same time... Geoffrey made a good point about the empty bedrooms."

Julian nodded before she could go on. "I agree. I think we should offer one to Steven."

Aurora looked a little surprised, but pleased.

Julian added, "But you know, he might turn it down. It's been an emotional week for him, and he might want his space... away from his employers."

"He might," Aurora said, "but we should ask him. Otherwise I'll worry that bringing him in more than we already have will make him a target for anyone looking into us."

Then it clicked. Julian understood where this was coming from. "You're still thinking about the sigil we saw in the sky a few days ago."

She was still looking out over the city beneath them, but Julian could see her wringing her hands--a habit he'd noticed before, when something was weighing on her.

She didn't respond, lost in thought.

"I've been thinking about it too. I should've said something," he admitted. "I was starting to think I was the only one. That sigil's what prompted Takeyoshi to reveal himself to us. And while he's an incredible teacher... I haven't exactly been practicing as much as I promised myself I would when we left the palace."

"Okay," she said suddenly, forcing a smile. "Enough doom and gloom. Let's go get Steven."

***

Back at the condo, Julian gestured toward a side hallway just past the kitchen. "That door leads to the maid's quarters. I know the term sounds archaic, but the space is actually really nice. The bedroom's bigger than most, and there's a little enclosed reading nook in the corner with a built-in chaise that sits right up against the window. If you're not afraid of heights, it's perfect--you can lie back and read or just watch the world drift by from thirty stories up. The ensuite has a Jack-and-Jill sink, a big walk-in shower, and a jacuzzi tub that easily fits two. Honestly, it's nicer than some master bedrooms I've seen."

Steven gave a surprised laugh, clearly not expecting housing to be part of his benefits package. "You serious? That's... honestly, that's amazing. Thanks."

He stepped past them to check it out, then peeked back into the main room with a crooked grin. "You won't have to worry about me bringing women home at all hours. Not really my situation. Never actually been with a woman."

The moment the words left his mouth, he blinked--realizing just how open he'd been--and cleared his throat. "Sorry. That was probably oversharing. I didn't mean to drop that on you guys."

Julian shrugged, casual and kind. "No judgment."

But Aurora had gone still. Her eyes flicked to Julian's, then back to Steven, then narrowed slightly as she turned away. She walked over to the kitchen island, but she wasn't reaching for anything. She wasn't even really looking at anything.

She was checking the archive.

Julian knew the look well enough by now--the distant, focused expression, like she was simultaneously listening to a symphony and flipping through a library of thoughts. A few seconds later, she turned back toward him, and the look on her face made him smile.

She was doing it again.

It was that conspiratorial glint he was getting very used to--the one that said I just had an idea that you're going to pretend to disapprove of before we both end up doing it anyway.

Julian stepped closer, buying time with a kiss. "I know that look. Let's discuss it when we're alone. You already know I never say 'no'--that's not us. But I may want to offer a few amendments. And because you love me, you'll consider them."

He kissed her again--firmly, purposefully--before she could start convincing him to hear her out right then and there.

***

Wren was feeling down in the dumps.

She was just now returning "home" after a long day of filling out job applications. One manager at a clothing outlet had seemed nice--offered to interview her on the spot. It was going well... until she asked about her living situation. The moment she realized Wren was a homeless runaway, she told her to stay put and went to make a phone call.

She knew exactly what that meant: Social Services. Another foster home. She slipped out before she came back.

"Stupid soul signature. I didn't even know I had one, and now some guy I don't even know has a line on it. How's a girl supposed to eat?" she muttered, kicking an empty can from the bus stop on the way back toward the strip mall--the broken-down husk of a place where she and a few other kids had carved out some version of safety.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't see the van slow down. Didn't hear the side door slide open.

She only realized she was in danger when four hands grabbed her at once and started pulling her inside.

Out of pure instinct, she fired a pulse--something her mom had taught her, just in case the day ever came when she'd need it. The magic hit one of the men square in the chest. He dropped instantly--unconscious, but alive.

She tried to twist free, but the grip on her arm tightened.

Then a third man jumped from the van and cracked her hard behind the ear.

Everything went dark.

***

Julian went still, fork halfway to his mouth.

"What is it?" Aurora asked.

"Wren. She used magic. It didn't feel the same as earlier--this time she was trying to hurt someone. And she wasn't being gentle about it."

Aurora frowned. "Julian, I know we just met her, but... does that feel like something she'd do, unless she was in trouble?"

"No. It doesn't." He turned to Geoffrey. "Goff, are you up for a little excitement?"

"Dear fellow, as long as your idea of excitement doesn't involve me serenading a room full of disinterested diners at the local Golden Corral, I'm entirely at your disposal."

***

They stood a few hundred yards from the warehouse where Julian had felt Wren's soul marker pulse like a beacon. The first-floor windows were fully boarded up, but up on the second level, low interior lighting bled through cracks in the otherwise blacked out windows--just enough to suggest life inside. Or something close to it.

Geoffrey adjusted his cuffs, gaze sweeping the warehouse ahead. "One does wonder what tale that unfortunate Uber chauffeur will tell his drinking companions tonight. Three passengers, no luggage, dressed like a fashion editorial for midnight intrigue, all requesting a stop at the edge of nowhere."

Aurora shot him a look. "I never needed a car," she said, a little too quickly. "And Julian was renting a room right near a metro stop. It worked for him."

A pause, then she exhaled. "But yeah... maybe we should go shopping. I saw a billboard for a Rezvani the other day. Looked sexy."

Geoffrey mumbled something under his breath--too quiet to catch fully--something about excuses being like something, and everyone having one.

Before either of them could reply, he tapped his cane once against the pavement. "I'll go around back. Second floor has windows--I'll start there. You two take the ground level."

And then he was gone--no confirmation, no glance back.

***

The air inside was wrong. Not just the smell of rot and concrete mold, but something worse--old blood, coppery and clinging.

Aurora stayed close to Julian's side, eyes already scanning the shadows. "Movement upstairs--catwalk above the mezzanine."

"I see them," Julian whispered. "We'll clear the ground floor, then go up and backup Geoffrey."

Just then they heard a scream from the mezzanine--they weren't human--not even close.

Aurora's hand gripped Julian's forearm. "He's not what I was expecting."

Julian gave a quiet, almost amused nod. "Yeah. I'm right there with you."

Stepping around a stack of fuel drums, a vampire rushed Aurora from the left--too fast for a warning. Another broke from the shadows and crashed into Julian before he even saw it.

The warehouse exploded into motion.

Snarls. Blades. Shadows moving too fast for human eyes.

Aurora vanished into the blur of combat, her strikes efficient, relentless. Julian moved on instinct--no time to think, no time to weave. Just reach, tear, ash. Again. Again.

There were too many.

The last one clung to him--fighting harder than the rest. It shrieked as its soul came free, resisting the pull. His breath turned ragged. His hands trembled.

Then the noise stopped.

Too late.

Another vampire dropped behind her. It grabbed her by the hair and hurled her across the floor. She slammed headfirst into a solid workbench--and didn't get back up.

Julian's focus narrowed.

Her attacker approached like he had all the time in the world, a sledgehammer hanging from one hand.

Julian stared at Aurora, willing her to move. She didn't.

The vampire started to raise the hammer.

Julian's eyes snapped wide. The feeling that she was about to be taken from him hit like a knife to the chest. He reached toward the vampire, then jerked his hand back--

Nothing happened.

Except catching its attention.

The vampire lowered the sledgehammer to waist height and turned toward him.

"You're next."

Julian's heart stopped. He had to get closer for a soul yank to work.

He started running, but he knew he wouldn't make it.

The distance was too far--sixty feet, maybe more.

In one smooth motion, the vampire raised the sledgehammer overhead--

and brought it down toward Aurora.

***

No.

Julian didn't think.

He just moved.

A surge of something white-hot and alive exploded through his body--not magic in the casting sense, but an unknown truth taking form.

He blurred across the warehouse in a blink, crossing sixty feet in a heartbeat. The air behind him rippled like heat off asphalt. He didn't even register the motion--just the arrival.

One hand shot up, palm splayed.

He reached out--intent on stopping the vampire--but on contact, the creature screamed as green-white flame erupted across its body. It lasted only a breath before collapsing into ash at Julian's feet.

Bonefire.

Julian swayed, one hand bracing against a support beam.

His ears rang. The warehouse spun. He felt nauseated, light-headed--but alive.

Aurora was already watching him from where she lay, still flat on the ground.

Her expression wasn't fear.

It was confusion.

She'd seen what happened--simply didn't understand how. Bonefire was rare enough. Julian had been considering it a strategic force multiplier--something to train with later, once he had less volatile options under control.

But the speed?

That was something else entirely.

Calling it rare would be an understatement. In truth, it's nonexistent in humans.

Breaking the tension, Geoffrey's voice drifted down from the mezzanine:

"Too much gore for my taste, really. You'd think with all that speed, they could dodge a cane to the windpipe."

***

They climbed the stairs in silence.

At the top, the blood den stretched out before them--velvet booths, broken glass, and ash piles everywhere. At least four dozen. Maybe more.

Geoffrey stood in the center of it all, not a speck of ash on him, twirling his cane with quiet precision as he surveyed the destruction like a man admiring the final brushstrokes of a masterpiece.

Julian stopped. Aurora beside him. Neither said a word.

Geoffrey didn't look at them at first. He let the silence stretch--like he was giving them a moment to process the magnitude of what they were seeing.

Then, just loud enough to carry:

"You summoned me--by mistake, I might add. I got bored. And really, what did you expect me to do? Knit?"

Julian finally found his voice. "You're right, Goff. We called the Forty-Nine because we knew we weren't enough. Not yet. Maybe never. I can actually feel them now. You said they were with you--but this time, I can feel it. They're proud. Stoic. Not arrogant... just seasoned. Like warriors who already proved themselves, and don't need to say it out loud."

He gave Geoffrey an awkward pat on the shoulder--part thanks, part admission.

Aurora finished scanning the room. "Do you know what this place is? What it means?"

Julian's attention had returned to the ash.

She helped him out. "This was a vampire social club. High-end. They came here to feed."

She looked at the ash again. "We just hit someone's wallet. Hard. And they're going to notice."

The word feed snapped Julian out of it. "Geoffrey--did you see where they were keeping the humans?"

Geoffrey turned toward a shadowed corner. "I saw the ones they discarded."

He gestured with his cane.

Julian and Aurora both looked. What was left there wasn't whole. Aurora's stomach twisted, the iron taste of bile rising in her throat.

Geoffrey let the silence hang just long enough for it to hurt.

Then, finally: "The rest--the ones they haven't eaten yet--are in cages. Just back there."

He pointed again, off to a hall tucked behind a velvet curtain.

"And there's one that bears your soul marker, young Master Julian."

***

Later that night, back at the condo, things were quiet--but not in any peaceful sense of the word. Other than Geoffrey, who somehow seemed to have more energy, the other three were exhausted--physically and emotionally.

They'd wiped the memories of the last few days from every non-magical survivor--another one of Geoffrey's charmingly grim suggestions. Julian had protested at first, but there wasn't really a better option. Letting those people carry what they saw into the rest of their lives felt crueler than forgetting.

The fire had been his idea, too. Geoffrey had found everything they needed on-site--paint thinner, old oil drums, enormous piles of clothing from previous victims--like a man shopping for ambiance.

Julian had considered using Bonefire, but pulled back. Bonefire was for protection--and once again, he'd proven that he could not only wield it... he could become it.

This time, he felt it differently. It wasn't like the few hours Master Takeyoshi had spent teaching him to wield the lesser Hellfire. Hellfire felt like a tool. Bonefire felt like his soul.

And he wasn't about to risk that connection by using it to commit arson.

Fire still took the building in the end--just not his fire. Bonefire wasn't meant for that.

***

Draping a blanket over Wren, who lay on the couch in the living room, Aurora caught Julian's eye from where he'd been standing for the last ten minutes, speaking with Geoffrey while the latter sipped a single malt.

How he managed to do that--without a visible mouth, or without a mouth at all? She still wasn't sure which was true--she had no idea.

Walking up, she hugged Julian from behind. "You saved me--again," she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

Looking past Julian's shoulder, she added, "Geoffrey, will you please ask Steven to meet us in the sitting room? I want to talk about tonight while it's fresh in our minds. And it would be good for Steven to listen in--it may help focus his research."

She heard Geoffrey muttering to himself, something about being able to recall events from the beginning of time as clearly as those from today.

In the sitting room, she pulled Julian in again, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. "I saw what you did--how quickly you moved."

"I've been thinking about it too. I've already stopped myself from going to the fitness center to see how fast I can run--like, a dozen times." He sounded only half-joking.

Julian spotted the freshly brewed pot of tea and two cups already set out. Geoffrey had made it. He poured a cup for Aurora and one for himself, muttering, "Pretty sure this isn't going to be a regular thing."

He glanced toward Aurora, his voice thoughtful. "I'm sure it has more something to do with the soul fragments we share."

Aurora took a slow sip of her tea, considering it. "I think we should ask Amaya. If anyone might have insight into what that really means, it's her."

Julian nodded. "I agree. But I don't think it's something we need to prioritize right now. I moved with 'Super-Vamp' speed," he said with a grin, "and as long as I don't start craving blood, it can wait until our next visit."

From the doorway, Geoffrey's voice cut in, calm but deliberate. "Yes, yes--supernatural cardio, very impressive. But let's set that aside for a moment. I'm far more interested in the flame that left your attacker as ash."

Steven looked up from his notebook, clear admiration in his expression. "You became the Bonefire again? How did it feel afterward? Did your arm tingle from fingertips to shoulder like last time?"

Julian flexed the hand he'd placed on the vampire's chest at the warehouse. "No, not this time. Just my hand--tingled for a couple minutes, but that's it."

Geoffrey stepped further into the room, his tone even but edged. "You may want to be more careful with that particular fire. You've only become it in single-shot mode so far. Had I not cleared the mezzanine, you'd likely have used it in semi-automatic mode--which, I daresay, requires a level of concentration and purity of intent only one has ever mastered since magic spilled into this dimension. And they weren't a mage."

Aurora raised an eyebrow. "Would you mind translating that without the firearms jargon?"

Geoffrey gave her a slow, unimpressed look.

She smiled, unfazed. "What? Before I was turned, the men in my village had muskets--and women weren't allowed to touch them. And since being infected, I've never had much need for firearms."

She smiled and gave a casual flex of her arm. It was slender, toned--not the kind of thing that screamed strength--but she didn't need it to. "Turns out I do just fine," she added with a wink.

Geoffrey gave a slight nod. "Instinct is easy to maintain for one burst--especially when you've never asked Bonefire for control. Both times you became it, it was as though it was waiting, watching... and when you needed it, it was there."

He paused, then added, "The other--sustained. You can't trick it with discipline. You need purity of intent, a mind free of violence, and a heart untouched by revenge."

He paused, thinking about what he'd learned during training with Master Takeyoshi, as well as Aurora and the archive.

"I'm concerned that the more powerful the magic I wield, the more--for lack of a better term--'juice' I'm taking from the spirits around me."

Geoffrey offered a faint smile. "I believe you misunderstand the source of your power."

"Right then, it's settled." Aurora turned to Julian. "We're going to the palace tomorrow."

She let out a breath. "I already had too many questions, and thanks to Geoffrey, I won't be sleeping tonight."

She bit her lower lip, not caring that they weren't alone. "Which means you're not sleeping either, Mister."

In one fluid motion, Geoffrey rose and swept Steven off the couch with a graceful tug. "Every great performer must know when they've been given their cue. And that--" he gestured lightly toward the pair "--was unmistakably ours."

He offered a shallow bow as he moved toward the hall. "Good night, Master and Mistress of the penthouse. After you've had your breakfast, I shall escort you to the portal. Then I'll return to keep watch over your loyal stray, for the Shōmyōkai has no threats worth the trouble of my presence."

The last thing they heard was Steven's indignant protest: "Hey! I'm not a stray!"

Followed by Geoffrey's voice, drifting back without a hint of sincerity. "No, but of course you're not."

***

Standing outside the smoldering remains of the warehouse--now reduced to something far more manageable than the inferno he'd driven up on an hour ago--he noted with mild irritation that the firefighters had arrived before him. The loss wasn't physical. It never was. But as the acrid smoke thinned in the damp night air, he was already rearranging the pieces in his mind, calculating how to recover the souls this setback had cost him.

The paperwork would be irritating. Reports had to be filed anytime a den was destroyed--especially one under his jurisdiction. The auditors would want clarity, and clarity implied accountability. Fortunately, he knew how to write a report that made blame feel like a shared misunderstanding.

Still, the loss gnawed at him. Not emotionally--he hadn't felt that sort of thing in decades--but in the way a craftsman might feel watching someone trample the fruits of their hard labor. Efficient. Quiet. Profitable. Until now.

The damage was more than structural. The soul-flow in this quadrant had stalled. He could feel it--thin, unsteady. The kind of disruption that drew questions from above.

He spotted a soul, drifting--lost, perhaps, or willfully blind to its door. Either way, it didn't matter. He reached for it with casual precision.

The warlock quickly learned the soul had once belonged to a security officer who worked at the warehouse. The man had been killed by someone dressed head to toe in white, shortly before the fire was started--by three people. No... two. No, one human and two others.

He knew that reading a soul's memories was difficult--even for elder warlocks. So it came as no surprise to this one, a minion without status and not yet even an up-and-comer, that the rest was hazy. He wasn't certain exactly what the other two were.

He was fairly certain one had been a flesh golem. The other--possibly a druid, maybe a witch. It didn't matter.

What did matter--what he knew beyond all doubt--was that the human among them was a warlock.

With no more questions for the lost soul, he withdrew a bottle from an inside pocket, the runes on its exterior glowing faintly as he whispered beneath his breath. Then tilting it toward the soul, he captured it--he had a quota, after all, and this one would do nicely.