Not Quite Human

Chapter 21

Andrew had been watching the boy through the gap in the door for several minutes.
Yesterday had changed things. His master had killed Jeremy — another boy who had served him faithfully, who had done nothing wrong — simply because the news of Eyene's arrival had put him in a bad mood. Andrew had understood, watching it happen, that the only reason he was still alive was geography. It had been Jeremy who was nearby when the news came. That was all. That was the whole of it.
He thought about Neil, the boy in the library who had offered to help him find his book without being asked, who had smiled at him like he was a person worth smiling at. He seemed like someone who would listen. Someone who wouldn't immediately assume the worst.
Andrew was terrified. What if Neil decided he was bad — decided that what he'd done made him undeserving of help? What if he reacted with anger when he found out that Andrew had been placed in the castle specifically to search for the stone? The fear was enormous. But staying felt worse, now that he'd seen what happened to Jeremy.
He stayed where he was, half behind the door, and made himself not run.
Neil felt the prickle of being watched and looked up from his laptop — he'd discovered the castle had WiFi only recently, which felt like a genuine injustice given how long he'd been here, but better late than never. He looked toward the door.
The same boy. Still there this time, not bolting. Half hidden by the doorframe, knuckles white where he gripped the wood, eyes saying something his mouth clearly hadn't managed yet.
Neil kept very still and smiled. He didn't move toward him. He just waited.
It took a little while, but the boy came in.
Neil's jaw was somewhere near the floor by the time Andrew finished.
He'd heard about the village, of course — it had been attributed to a forest fire at the time, a tragedy, nothing more. The idea that a fey had done it deliberately, had walked away from it and then gathered up the surviving children and put them to work — Neil couldn't find words for that. The scars on Andrew's arms made a different kind of sense now.
"I'm sorry," Andrew said, his voice barely audible, eyes fixed on the floor. "I know it was wrong, searching for the stone. Please don't — please."
Neil stared at him. It was so plainly obvious that this boy was a victim that the apology was almost painful to hear. He told Andrew gently that they needed to tell Damien and Nerezza — that they would know what to do, and that he trusted them to handle it properly.
It took a long time and a firm promise before Andrew agreed. Neil could have gone ahead without his permission — technically, Andrew didn't get a say. But it mattered to him that Andrew had chosen to trust him. That had taken real courage, and Neil wasn't going to make him regret it.
Damien listened without interrupting.
He wasn't proud of the fact that his first thought was tactical — that this boy, however frightened, was potentially the lead they'd been waiting for. Someone who might be able to name names. He set that thought aside long enough to let Andrew finish, then asked the most important question he had.
"What is your master's name?"
Andrew's face did something complicated. He thought about it genuinely — Neil could see him actually searching — before it became clear that he didn't know. The man had always simply been master. That was what all the boys called him. That was how Andrew thought of him, even now. It hadn't occurred to him, in all this time, that master had another name.
Damien exhaled slowly. "Was there anyone he answered to? Anyone whose name you heard?"
Andrew considered. "There was a lady he called Magpie. She was..." he paused, choosing the word carefully. "Scary. She talked a lot about being better than everyone else. I think it was her who told master to find the stone — something about using it to try to become blood fey himself. We weren't told much beyond what he thought we needed to know."
Damien went quiet.
Margie Maggie Dale Inn. The Magpie. It fit — more than fit. Margie had been part of the original uprising, one of the few participants who hadn't been executed, pardoned on the grounds that she'd been coerced. She had always been the strange one, the outlier, the one nobody had taken entirely seriously. That dismissiveness had probably saved her life. And now it was beginning to look like a very expensive mistake. She was blood fey, powerful, and apparently had been quietly rebuilding something for a long time.
The forgotten one. The tainted soul.
It was starting to make sense.
"Andrew," Neil said, turning to the boy with what he hoped was a reassuring expression, "you can stay with me for a bit — meet my dog, have some proper food, nothing weird, I promise—"
"He'll stay here," Damien said.
Neil opened his mouth.
"The castle has barriers against detection," Damien continued, not unkindly. "His master will look for him. Your house doesn't have those protections, and I'd rather not have both of you in the same unguarded location." He looked at Andrew. "You'll have your own room. There'll be a guard — not to watch you, to keep you safe. You have my word."
Andrew looked at Neil, who nodded.
It wasn't the warm and chaotic sleepover Neil had been picturing. But it was safer, and Andrew deserved safe.