| |
Halstad lingered outside the bookstore. The others had all gone inside, but he needed a minute to pull himself together, away from their wards and bonds and Godsdamned...feelings.
When the pride all left to get the fox, he was sure they wouldn't come back in time. Trusting other people with something as fragile as your heart, something as fucking stupid as hope was just asking for disappointment and pain. He'd learned that lesson years ago. So, he prepared himself for return to the tool bin. To the mage guild.
He ran a hand over his face, closing his stolen eyes as he thought of their owners. Caring about other people—fucking loving them—was stupid. He couldn't believe his weak, stupid heart was so set on wanting to belong here. Wanting to stay.
Mages didn't get to stay anywhere. They were bought up by the guild, trained as tools or weapons, and rented out to the highest bidder. But the mage guild never outright sold a mage. That might end in a free mage, which was far too dangerous.
Other supes feared mages. A mage was different from them. Born human, but with just a little something other. Not human. Not fully supe. They couldn't be neatly boxed up into "us" or "them." So, no one gave a damn if a whole race of people was basically made into slaves. It was for their own safety, of course. Rogue mages were a danger to themselves and others. The guild took care of mages. Kept them safe from exploitation by finding them honest work.
People will believe any lie, if they want ignorant bliss bad enough.
But the gryphon had come back, like she said she would. She was going to go to the guild and buy his contract. He let himself hope.
It hurt to let that emotion in, but damn it, he was tired. He wanted a home. Even one where he had to deal with the racism of one little fae. It was better than anything else he'd known in his life. His contract would run out again, and they'd have to figure out how to keep renewing it, but he'd find a way.
Sighing, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and went for a walk around the block, trying to settle his mind. It was dark, the little town mostly asleep in the wee hours of the night, unlike a bigger place, where the hustle and bustle never seemed to stop. He breathed in the cool, snow-scented air, boots scuffing over the old-timey brick sidewalk.
He felt it a hell of lot later than he should have. His damned senses were dulled by his stupid worrying and wondering. Served him right for being distracted. And for getting his hopes up.
Halstad was a powerful motherfucker, even among his kind. They'd forced him to be. But that was no good if someone got the drop on you. The trap was sprung before he realized what was happening.
A dozen hooded figures ghosted out of the darkness beyond the streetlamps. The fae blood in him flared as he tried to pull on his magic, but they'd cast a dampening field. The mage guild were assholes, not idiots.
He still had his damned fists though. The dampening field muffled sound, made calling out for help impossible, even though he had a whole apartment full of strong supes not ten feet away from him.
One busted nose, a broken leg, and a few cracked ribs later and he was stuffed into the back of his own damned car.
"Fucking assholes," he muttered as magic crawled over his skin, draining him so he couldn't fight back. A suppression collar went around his neck and he glared up into the brown eyes of the squad leader.
The man just shook his head in pity and pressed a button on the side of the collar. It was stupid to fight back against the guild. Everyone knew that. Halstad's whole body went rigid with the electricity pouring through him. Then, thank fuck, he passed out.