“Any sign of him?”
“That’s the thing,” said the soldier. “When I asked for a description, no one could oblige. According to everyone I met, he never left the shop. Never even handled customers. He was, by all accounts, a recluse.”
“But there was no body found in the wreckage,” observed Alucard.
“Maybe he doesn’t exist,” said Velastro.
Alucard looked at the young soldier. Perhaps he was sharper than he looked. “You think it was a front?”
It was the older soldier who answered.
“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head, “as far as I can tell, Haskin’s shop did plenty of repairs. Not sure how much was legal. But all business was handled by his apprentice. A girl. Fifteen years, give or take. Lanky. Lots of hair. One described her as a feral cat.”
“Name?”
The soldier shook her head. Alucard sighed. Of course not. That would have been too helpful. He kept listening, but his gaze drifted over the wreckage toward the front of the shop—what was left of it—which was when he noticed the young man lingering across the street.
If he was trying to hide, he was doing a pretty bad job.
He stood on the curb, a paper bundle clutched in both hands, and stared straight at the ruined shop, his face slack-jawed as he took in the damage. The first thing Alucard thought was that he must have been either a customer or a friend. The second thing Alucard thought was that they’d met before. It was in the shape of his face, the way his black hair carved a widow’s peak into his brow, the way his eyes widened when he noticed Alucard staring back at him.
The man froze.
Froze the way Ren’s rabbit, Miros, did sometimes when it was being chased by servants, as if it thought it might be able to blend right into a chair leg, or the carpet, or the tapestry against the wall. And then, once it realized it couldn’t, it did what rabbits do.
It ran.
“Wait—” started Alucard, but the man was already turning on his heel. Sprinting away down the street.
“Sanct,” he swore, grabbing the reins of the soldier’s mount and swinging himself up. He dug his heels in, and the horse surged into motion, leaping a low pile of debris as its hooves pounded down the street.
The young man was quick but he was also clumsy, long limbs tangling as he ran. He half skidded, half slid around a tight corner, dropping the bundle as he did, spilling what looked like dumplings across the paving stones as he scrambled back to his feet, started to run, then changed his mind, and turned to face his pursuer.
The horse reared to a stop, and Alucard dismounted, holding up a hand in peace.
“I just want to talk,” he said, which was true. He knew not everyone ran because they’d done something wrong, and even if he had, Alucard only cared about the young man’s crimes if they would shed light on the ruined shop and its missing apprentice.
“What happened to Haskin’s shop?”
“I don’t know,” said the man, breathless. “I was just going to visit Tes, to pay her back, you know? For the dumplings, and— Is she all right? Was she inside?”
“Tes—that’s the apprentice at Haskin’s shop?”
His head bobbed. He looked around again, as if the alley walls might be narrowing.
“What’s your name?” asked Alucard, thought it was innocuous enough, but the man’s eyes—a pale brown, like weak tea—narrowed. His face snapped shut. And Alucard realized why he’d stopped running.
Before, he’d been too busy to notice the color of the young man’s magic. But now, Alucard saw the threads, bruising the air around his opponent’s shoulders. It was a color he almost never saw: a dark and warning violet.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Alucard, waving his own question away. “Right now, we need to find your friend, Tes. Make sure she’s safe.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out. He’d just tipped his hand, admitted she wasn’t in the shop. The man’s brown eyes flicked up. Alucard pressed on. “If you come back with me, maybe you’ll see something—”
“Tes can look after herself.” He took a step back as he said it, shaking his head.
“I can’t let you go,” warned Alucard.
The man flashed him a pitying grin. “I don’t think you have a choice.”
They moved at the same time, each reaching for their magic, Alucard for the street stones, and the younger man for him. Alucard was fast—but for once, not fast enough. The ground beneath them shuddered, but before it could rise up, the other man slammed his hand down, and Alucard felt his own body buckle, fold.