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“Are you unaware there is a curfew in effect?” one man near the front snarled at them. His arm shifted under his cloak, no doubt thumbing free his sword.

“We are aware of the curfew,” Callan replied. “We are searching for a friend of ours. This is her home. It is dire.”

One of the other men snickered. “Dire, is it?”

“Yes,” Callan answered through gritted teeth.

“What’s her name? This friend?” the first man asked. He sounded vaguely familiar. If Callan could see his face, he might recognize this one.

“Mary Ellen,” Callan said. The guards seemed to pause at the answer, so he pressed, “Do you know of her?”

“What’s your business with Mary Ellen?”

“None of yours,” Callan retorted. All the men stiffened, and Azrael shifted, his hand clamping around Callan’s wrist. “Wait,” he hissed at the Earth Prince.

“Your companion does not speak?” another of the men sneered. “Show your faces.”

“Show yours first,” Azrael replied, somehow making the three words drip with challenge and violence.

“You are not from here,” the first man said, stepping forward.

“Do you know where Mary Ellen is?” Callan asked before Azrael could reply.

“Not if you don’t state your business with her, we don’t,” another guard chimed in.

Callan glanced at Azrael, but with the dark and the hoods, it was pointless. He sucked in a sharp breath, knowing this was likely to get them nowhere, before he said, “The angel sent us.”

“Bullshit,” one man said.

So they knew of Tava then.

“Take us to Mary Ellen,” Callan said, an order that had all the guards straightening.

There was a tense moment of silence before the first man swaggered forward, pulling something from his cloak. “Sure thing.” Callan could hear the smirk in his tone. “But if you’re lying, I’ll be cutting out your tongue.”

“Callan,” Azrael said in a tone so quiet he almost didn’t hear him.

“You can Travel us out if needed, right?” Callan murmured out of the corner of his mouth as the men came forward.

“Not if they separate us,” Azrael replied.

It was a risk, but what wasn’t these days? It would be worth it if they truly knew where Mary Ellen was. It would be worth it if it got them any information on how to aid his people.

“Put ‘em on,” the guard said, tossing something to Callan while another did the same to Azrael. Hoods to go over their heads, he realized a moment later. “And hands behind your backs.”

Callan did as ordered, rope being wound tightly around his wrists. That would be fine. Azrael’s earth magic could get them out of any bindings.

Once they were bound and unable to see, they were led back down the streets until they were shoved into a carriage.

“Wait a minute,” Callan barked around a wince as his face crashed into something hard, but there was the slamming of a door, followed moments later by the creaking of wheels that had him lurching forward.

The hood was yanked from his head. Callan couldn’t see Azrael in the pitch dark.

“We are in a godsdamn prisoner wagon,” the Earth Prince growled in annoyance.

“I guess we will see where it goes,” Callan murmured, shifting so he could sit against the side.

“A prisoner wagon generally leads to dungeons or death.”