hallway leading into the showroom is closed off from the loading room with dual swinging metal doors, each one with glass panes at the top so employees could see if someone was on the other side before they went barreling through with a dolly holding a large sculpture.
Swiftly, Boral moves left and I go right, so if anyone is in the hall or the part of the gallery that can see down to the loading room doors, we’re not spotted. We position ourselves across from each other, and Boral takes a quick peek through the glass before pulling back out of sight.
He looks across at me and shakes his head, meaning he didn’t see anyone.
As I explained to Boral, the hall leads into the main gallery. Along the way, there will be a bathroom on the left, an office on the right, and a small break room past that, also on the right.
We figured Blain would be in one of those rooms, but I had imagined the daemon or two guarding him would possibly be roaming the hall or gallery. However, they could be way too settled in their guard duties, having successfully held him prisoner for weeks without any issues. It’s just as likely they’re in the small break room watching TV and eating Hot Pockets.
Boral jerks his head toward the hall on the other side of the doors, indicating he’s ready to move. I nod, confident in our plan to just storm in. One or two unsuspecting daemons would be easy to dispatch. The most perilous thing we’d be facing was to make sure Blain stayed safe if there was a big battle.
Shifting forward, Boral looks through the glass again. The hallway is apparently empty as he puts his shoulder to the door and slowly pushes it open. He slips through, and I follow behind him. As we had discussed in our impromptu plans, given that he’s immortal and I’m not, he’d go first and act as a shield for me if things go badly.
Boral creeps down the tiled hallway, and I do the same. We reach the bathroom door on the left first and see that it’s partially open but the light is out. Boral pushes it all the way open, letting the light shine in from the hall.
Empty.
He then moves to the office, where we suspect Blain might be. The door is closed and Boral walks past it just a few feet, his eyes moving between the next closed door to the break room and the large gallery just beyond in case someone should come from there. It’s up to me to check out the office.
I reach out to the doorknob, twisting it slowly, and when it’s unlatched, I throw it open in case daemons are inside, hoping they’ll be startled. At the same time, I immediately throw up my shield in front of me in case they get off a hastily tossed weapon.
But inside, I find only Blain and my heart sinks when I see him.
“Christ,” I mutter, latching my whip back to my holster. I instruct Boral, “Keep watch while I untie him.”
I move swiftly inside and across the room where Blain is tied with rope around his hands and ankles. He’s lying on his side on the cold, bare floor, and he hadn’t even twitched when I threw the door open. My heart pounding, I squat and press my fingertips to his carotid artery.
There’s immediate relief that his skin is warm, and it takes only a second or two to feel the rhythmic beat of his pulse.
I don’t know if he’s drugged or just exhausted, but he doesn’t move when I touch him. His face is covered in bruises, old and new, so he’s clearly been taking some regular beatings. My guess is it’s just for fun because he’s clearly subdued. He’s also lost a lot of weight. I see it within his gaunt, pale face the most.
With no time to work on knots, I use my magic to undo them and free his wrists and ankles. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I give him a shake. “Blain… I need you to wake up.”
He doesn’t move.
I glance back at the doorway, noting Boral has moved to it so I can see him, but his attention is still focused on the gallery.
I shake Blain a little harder, but still keep my voice at a whisper. “Blain. Come on. Wake up.”
He groans, sucks in a deep breath, and lets it out in a slight