Rogue (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {1}

25. Cuthbert Sinclair, aka Magnus

25. Cuthbert Sinclair, aka Magnus

"So this is where your demons tracked him to?" I ask.

Our drive, according to Crowley's directions, led us to a forest. We took the Impala, so, naturally, Dean drove, and the four of us had taken a walk in the woods. Now, here we are, in a clearing. There's nothing that screams "Cuthbert Sinclair is here."

"Exact spot," Crowley assures us. "My boys never could find him. I'm sensing nothing, so if he's here, he's warded up to the gills."

"Well, he's a genius at it, right? Sure as hell ain't gonna be found by a bunch of demons."

"Oh, like he's gonna open his heart to you lot, because you're such prizes? I doubt he even knows about you, Josie."

"I didn't die and come back to life, Crowley. He's got to know that I exist. I'm not a myth."

"Besides, we're better than prizes—we're legacies," Dean tells him. "All right, if he's so bent on hiding, maybe he's watching. Give it a shot."

"Cuthbert Sinclair—uh, Magnus—whatever," Sam says into the air. "We're Sam, Dean, and Josette Winchester. Henry Winchester's grandsons."

"And granddaughter," I say loudly.

"And Men of Letters, ourselves," Dean adds.

"We know what happened back in the day," Sam takes over. "We don't necessarily agree with it. We figured...Maybe you want to tell your side of the story."

We wait, and wait, and wait. Nothing happens. I blow air out through my mouth. Well, this was a waste of time. My brothers and I look back at Crowley. This can't be a goose chase, though. For once, I feel like he's telling the truth.

I turn my head back towards the empty space, only this time it's not empty. There's a smoky doorway where nothing once was. I exchange a look with my brothers before we go through the door.

We transition from a clearing and Crowley to the interior of a beautiful mansion.

"Which way?" I ask, having a hard time not being distracted by the mansion hallway. This is insanely beautiful.

Dean motions to the right, and Sam and I follow him down the hall. As we round the corner, we're ambushed, and judging by the fangs, we're dealing with two vampires. We spring into action, and I act as bait while my brothers behead the two fanged monsters. I wince as I rub the slight blood spatter off my face. We form a tight circle, ready for the next wave.

Instead, there loud clapping overhead, as if it's coming through an intercom.

"Bravo!" says the voice. "Well done!"

"What kind of sick playhouse is this?" I hiss. "What kind of game are you playing at?!" I raise my voice.

"You can relax now." The voice isn't on the intercom anymore.

I turn, squeezing between my brothers, to be faced with the person we can only assume is Cuthbert Sinclair—Magnus—whatever the hell his name is at this point. I don't know how old he should really be, but he looks fairly dressed and stuck in his own little world. But he does scream Men of Letters overall. But I don't think Men of Letters test others by throwing vampires at them like he just did.

"This isn't a trap, is it?" I ask slowly.

Sinclair laughs. "Why no, Josette, it's not. I promise, you won't have to fight anything else. Please, please, follow me."