“I told you not to come here.”

It was alright for them to visit each other’s homes, but her mixing up the personas, visiting him when he was Thobias and not Adrian? That was risky, and thoughtless.

“The boy knows,” she blurts out, thankfully quietly.

That gives him pause.

He locks the door, draws the curtains. The barrier, protecting from eavesdroppers, pushes out towards the walls, and only then he allows himself to let Adrian’s face bleed onto his.

“Come again?”

“That… clerk at old hag’s law firm. He found the lab.”

“I thought you said you’ve dealt with it,” he remarks, and her mouth twitches.

“He kept digging even after being told to drop it. I don’t know – he’s young and… upright, I guess.”

“How remarkable.”

He can tell she’s getting frustrated that he doesn’t seem to be sharing her urgency, but in truth, he has no reason to be worried. The only thing connecting him to the lab is Margaret herself. The boy is her problem.

After all, Adrian knows nothing about alchemy, or the occult. He’s made sure those were other faces. Adrian is barely anybody, too busy mourning his parents untimely deaths.

“Look, lend me someone for a few nights, I’ll get rid of him. I’m sure he hasn’t told anyone, it’ll be fine, I just need some extra support – he’s on his guard now, and I heard he’s s decent fencer.”

She’s running her fingers along the seam of her skirt, too nervous for the kinds of things she’s saying.

“What are you not telling me?” he asks, and she shudders under his gaze before straightening out.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll fix it,” she insists, but she’s not a good enough liar, and he knows her too well.

“What are you not telling me?” he asks once more. With someone else, he might have made effort to put in some emphasis.

With her, just the repetition is enough.

Still, she hesitates.

“He has the book,” she says quietly, as if hoping he wouldn’t hear.

It’s not fatal, of course. He has contingencies – he’s seen the full description; worst case scenario, he will force himself into remembering. But the enormity of her blunder is…

He looks at Margaret again. He’s long since thought of her as just Margaret at this point, but perhaps there was some lingering affection in the way he’s let her stay even as she grew sloppier in her work, as his own strength soared far beyond needing her.

That boy though…

Strong, righteous, persistent. Adrian’s thoughts go back to the dark throne hidden underground, to the kind of blood it thirsts after.

“Don’t kill him, bring him to me,” he orders her, and her too-expressive face turns angry.

“He’s not some nobody that won’t be missed!” she hisses. “Why?”

He ignores her question and repeats, “Don’t kill him. Figure something out, fake his death – I don’t care, just get it done. And move the lab. The warehouse is empty for now, use that.”

She wants to argue, and he again conjures Thobias’s red hair and five-o-clock shadow to let her know the conversation is over.

Last chance for her to do better.

After all, he’s running out of other blood relatives to offer to the hellfire.

————

More on Adrian and Margaret (or, how this nephew-aunt relationship ended) in Awakening and Tools Discarded and Broken.