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Chris wasn’t sure about his new room. It didn’t appear to have any nasty spells worked into the walls, the floor was free of hexes, and the ceiling was free of dark charms—it was all very suspicious given the way he’d been treated. He floated out from his jar, the sticking spell Alex had mentioned appeared to be just that, nothing more. The elf thought he had to be up to something, and Chris didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such suspicion.

His senses were at full alert, and he wondered if he might be hit by a containment spell. He floated into the en suite bathroom, not that he needed to bathe, but he quite liked moving around the pipes, and he’d spent the first summer when plumbing had been installed at the hall popping up in various places and enjoying a good ogle at oblivious guests. He’d been gently reprimanded and had been careful not to be caught again.

He heard splashing. Odd. When he’d settled into his jar for a nap, he’d checked the neighbouring rooms to make sure there were no nasty surprises, and they’d been empty. It sounded like someone was taking a bath.

Chris slipped through the wall at skirting board level, keeping low and out of sight. Indeed, there was someone in the bath, their long black hair hanging over the side. He sent out one of his echoes, a neat piece of magic he’d copied from a witch from before he’d come to the hall, and the bounce-back made him curious. He floated closer. He could sense the male in the bath was asleep, not deep but in a light doze, but there was something about him that was different from the general waif and strays who ended up at Crofton Hall.

Over the centuries, he’d seen all sorts, but this one was unique, and Chris didn’t say things like that lightly. He was attractive in a general sense, his pale skin and dark hair a lovely juxtaposition. He was well put-together, not overweight, but neither did he have the weird muscle definition that had somehow wormed its way into modern human beauty standards. A crop of something teal coloured caught his attention. He risked moving closer and realised they were scales—pretty iridescent things Chris found himself wanting to stroke. There were several patches of them, but he wasn’t aware of a species with clumps of scales in such a fashion.

The bubbles were beginning to thin, and Chris took the opportunity to have a look at the guy’s cock as it wafted about in the water. Good length, and he reckoned once his ardour was up, the guy would be thick and good for fucking. Chris wondered if he had a partner. He would admit he’d like to taste his energy when he orgasmed.

He peered over the rim of the bath. Now he was this close, Chris could sense more, his magic wasn’t as it should be for a warlock. Usually, those pompous arses had a specific twang about them, and while there was something of that about this man, there was more to it. He reached out and ran a hand through his arm. The man chuntered but didn’t wake. His magic was weird, as if it had been mixed up and put back in the wrong pattern. Now, that was intriguing, he didn’t know what could cause that to happen.

Chris couldn’t remember the last time he’d been drawn to someone in such a way. Maybe it was the undercurrent of this guy’s magic, he tasted like the sea, a salty edge flashing across his tongue from his echo spell. Since being at Crofton Hall he’d encountered all sorts of creatures, but nothing like him.

The fact he’d called him pretty in his head gave Chris pause. He’d usually only sought out people to feed from, most wouldn’t have known he was there, and he’d never been overly concerned by what they looked like. He did have a carnal side, and now and again after he’d harvested someone’s energy, he would get excited and release the odd sticky residue of his own, but he’d put that down to liking the sight of a nice arse as much as the next discorporate spirit.

Chris needed to know who this man in the bath was. He considered waking him up, but most people might object to being studied in a bath without permission. He’d love to get a proper taste. He could leave a tag near the bed in the other room that would alert him to even the slightest hint of a knuckle shuffle, which was always a nice snack.

He drifted into the bedroom and hovered his hand over the mattress. The tag was a special trick he’d worked on for years and he was very proud of it—almost undiscoverable, and it was a neat bit of magic.

Time to find Ben and ask a few questions.

Despite agreeing to stay out of Ben’s private rooms, he floated into Ben’s bedroom. He cursed his poor timing as he’d missed Ben getting dressed by mere minutes, and he knew the prime specimen that was hiding under his suit.

“Chris! What are you doing in here?”

“Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry but I don’t know what to do.” He couldn’t ask anyone else, and he might get in trouble if he got caught creeping around when not feeding, so he should probably approach this line of questioning from a more sensitive angle. The man did have something wrong with his magic so he could use that as a good excuse. “There’s someone in the bath in the neighbouring room to mine… I think they might be in trouble.”

“I didn’t think there was anyone next to you.”

“Karl moved me, thought it might be for the best for me to have somewhere new—so kind of him.” He didn’t think Karl cared about him, but he didn’t want Ben to think he was unhappy or ungrateful. “You know I can be very sensitive to certain things, and I had an upwelling of something not right about this person that I couldn’t shake.”

“Not right in what way?”

He couldn’t quite explain the strange aftertaste he’d got from his echo so he improvised. “Something like dread.”

Ben frowned. “Dread?”

“Yes, or malaise and discombobulated. They were definitely not in full health.”

“Is it one of the ghosts?”

Crofton Hall’s ghosts were a fluffy-headed lot. The main one was an old butler by the name of Billins who would fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. “No, this man was alive. But maybe they were trying to drown themselves due to their predicament. They were in a bath.”

“I can’t think who you’re talking about. Maybe if you describe them to me.”

He wasn’t sure if Ben was telling the truth, he supposed he might have a few extra guests at the hall, but Chris thought he’d know who was under his roof. Maybe he was protecting someone?

“Long inky-black hair, and moonlight-pale skin, but with the odd patch of teal scales like teardrops.” He remembered how pretty the scales were. “Like jewels.”

“Sounds like Jack, but I wouldn’t have thought him in a state of dread. He’s far too down to earth for that.”

“Jack?” he prompted.

“Yes, Jack Webb. He’s a warlock, a legal expert of the Warlock Ruling Committee. He’s also Ashley’s best friend.”

He’d never had much to do with the legal profession, but he’d heard lots of stories about how some of them weren’t the most upright citizens, so he hoped Jack wasn’t one of the scuzzy ones. “Then Ashley is aware his friend is not in the best of health?”

“Chris, I don’t understand where this level of concern is coming from. Yes, Jack is here recovering, and I suppose he might be a bit frustrated with his progress but he’s quite a perky fellow all things considered.”

He wasn’t concerned so much as he was interested, which in itself was strange, but he didn’t want to come across as some weird creeper, even though that was pretty much what he was doing.

Maybe this wasn’t the same man. “You say he’s a warlock because we might be talking about someone else.”

“Ah, I guess you might have picked up a different part of his heritage.”

“Meaning?”

Ben wrinkled his nose. “You did say he had scales.”

“Yes.” He was obviously missing something. “Which is why I was surprised you said he was a warlock because they aren’t usually part-creature.”

Ben winced, and Chris thought calling someone a creature wasn’t the done thing anymore. “Chris, I know you might mean well, but Jack is sensitive around this topic.”

If Jack had been part dragon, he’d have been announcing it to the world, which suggested he was something not well-liked. Then he remembered the salty tang and couldn’t believe he’d not realised. “Siren?”

“That’s Jack’s business. Ashley would make me gargle holy water if he thought I’d betrayed his trust.”

Sirens weren’t treated well, as a species they were low down on the social hierarchy and Chris would think it must be painful to be ostracised. He wanted to take away that pain.

“But it makes perfect sense why I was feeling the despair, sirens don’t have an easy time of things.” He couldn’t believe his luck, as this was the perfect excuse and he wouldn’t have to admit to being a creep. “What’s he recovering from? Some sort of water disorder?”

“No, he was hit by the magic disruptor spell from a lich in a rescue mission of a fae prince.”

“ Fae prince ?” One of the things he’d been thinking about his origin might be something to do with another realm, and the fae were a credible option.

“Yes, a member of my House had married Prince Simon of the Calanti tribe, and His Highness was kidnapped, Jack was part of the extraction team.”

From what he’d read, the Calanti had been the bad boys of the fae world, cast out and they hadn’t cared. There hadn’t been much in the book he’d read, but Chris remembered something around the fallout and hadn’t thought they deserved to be ostracised, but then he hadn’t exactly been a good flower fairy himself. He blinked, where had that thought come from?

“Chris?”

He must have phased out for a moment. “Sorry. I was deep in thought about poor Jack. I must have felt the intrinsic sorrow that perhaps he hasn’t even admitted to himself.”

He’d consider himself an empathic entity and there was something about Jack that had set off his desire to help.

“I don’t see Jack as the tortured soul type. Ashley told me he’d been discriminated against once his origins were known so he doesn’t exactly shout what he is from the rooftops, but he seems to take everything in life in his stride.”

Vampires weren’t known for being deep thinkers, nor were they empathic, so he thought Ben wasn’t able to understand Jack’s situation. As the Dark Earl, Ben was a member of the elite in his society. He would have never suffered in a way that would help him see Jack’s point of view. Chris had suffered being in a jar and not knowing who he was. Chris still intended to find out his origins, but it also meant he could have an affinity for someone like Jack. Sirens had always been mistrusted and badly treated and he had to admit he’d like the taste of Jack’s magic.

“I can feel his pain. He masks it well.”

“I suppose he does suffer from his outcrops of scales. Ashley said it’s usually when he’s stressed or there’s a change of water.” Ben tutted. “I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t tell Ashley.”

“I don’t know Ashley.”

He didn’t tend to befriend that many people as they had a nasty habit of being dead if he had a particularly long sleep.

“I’ll introduce you, he’d be fascinated… er… I mean delighted to meet you.”

“Hmm. What is he? Another vampire?”

“No is a warlock, actually a Senior Warlock.”

He thought Ben would have better taste and most warlocks in his experience were pricks, and while he’d known one who he’d come to consider a friend, another had once tried to shake him out of his jar. “I’m not keen on being a fascination for a warlock.”

“I’ve quite enjoyed it.”

If Ben was offering a different way to get to Ashley, then that might be a different matter. “You told me I wasn’t allowed to be under your bed.”

Ben spluttered. “Chris, I told you there’s a line.”

“I misunderstood. I wouldn’t betray your trust, you know that.” He liked Ben, he was even nicer than Charles. “Anyway, back to Jack?—”

“Why are you so interested? Apart from feeding you’ve never concerned yourself with my guests.”

It was a good question, and he wasn’t sure himself. He was drawn to Jack, his lack of fitting in appealed, and he wanted to know more. “I felt him, I couldn’t ignore his pain and wanted to see if I could help.”

Ben cocked his head to one side. “I not sure, Chris. I’m not convinced he’s dealing with any great psychological drama; he’s knackered and his magic’s out of whack. He needs rest.”

Chris thought if he pushed further Ben might start asking questions and he knew enough about Jack for now. “All right. Since he’s my new neighbour I’ll keep my ears open.”

He didn’t want a lecture on not sampling Ben’s boyfriend or his friend, so he disappeared and went back to his jar. For years he’d spent his efforts trying to figure out who he was and why he had ended up in a jar, now for the first time he could remember, he cared about someone unrelated to him or his predicament, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Chris floated through the wall into his room. He was hungry. Perhaps this fascination with Jack was because he needed to eat, and then this strange interest would abate. The hall was hosting a party, and he thought the real action wouldn’t happen until later, there might be someone having a quickie before they got ready or had already snuck off for a bit of fun.

The best way to locate a potential snack was to send out one of his echoes, a pulsed wave that would permeate the hall but at a low frequency that shouldn’t set off any magic users.

He caught the scent of a delicious morsel and floated up through the ceiling, poking his head through the floorboards in the corner of a bedroom. A couple were snogging, she was already half-naked and he was trying to unbutton his shirt. Chris had no idea who they were and sank back under the floor to re-emerge under the bed, and lay down, ready to eat.

The springs of the mattress started to squeak, and the frame began to rock. Chris breathed deeply—the first few minutes were often sweet and followed by a saltiness. She was a bit of a screamer, and he seemed to have a dirty mouth by the stream of profanities he was chanting. This was a quickie, he was sure of it, and Chris was replete as the guy shouted out his orgasm and she gasped. Chris had to hold back a burp.

He returned to his jar, his stomach full, once again Crofton Hall had given him a perfect means to feed himself. He yawned and settled down, thinking a nap would be a good idea. The thought of Jack lulled him back to sleep, and for the first time ever he felt sated from his hunger but empty in other ways he wasn’t used to.