The western edge of Portswain was home to the railyard and a variety of unimaginative square buildings that had changed purposes from stores to office spaces to pawn shops and back. Old signage sat behind banners advertising leases and loans. A small strip mall had been converted into an auto dealership with a smattering of well-used cars.

With a disgusted sigh, Kieran looked over the area then let his gaze settle on the scraggly man beside him. "Which building?" he asked. He knew it was pointless to hope for something small for a quick and easy rescue, but he wouldn't say no for the turn in luck.

"Blue roof, three floors. Fifty bucks to watch the back door. Make sure no one comes sneaking in or out." The man frowned and patted his coat pocket. "He paid me fifty. I already spent it. On something…"

Kieran gave the man a pitying glance. The man didn't bother to question the implanted thought. It let him appreciate Jack's cleverness at working his way past a thrall—even if it was mostly due to Jack's paranoia and anxiety. Would Jack appreciate being told his mental illness was what kept him relatively protected? Most likely not.

"That will be all, thank you. You can…go about your day," he said, waving the man off.

The man nodded and shuffled toward a liquor store, muttering to himself along the way.

Kieran walked along the street until he caught sight of the building with a faded blue roof. A sign detailing the cost per square foot stretched across boarded up windows on the first floor. Apparently, no one had felt the need to update the sign with a new bank representative, as the one who tragically perished in a fire was still listed.

He continued past the building until he reached the corner and turned, hoping for an alley. A dead tree marked the outlet, and he stole a glance as he kept his casual pace.

The tattooed man from the library footage stood by a metal door marked for receiving, swaying slightly as he stared ahead. A broken bench and a couple abandoned shopping carts were all that occupied the small parking lot the man was seemingly watching.

Kieran continued to the end of the block, weighing his options.

He could try to steal Farragut's thrall, but the guard at the door looked to be so deeply under that it would prove highly difficult with no promise of worthy results. Storming the building would also be a less than stellar idea. With no clue as to how many more Farragut was working with, it would be near-suicide to attempt with how large the building was.

He pulled out his phone and stared at the dark screen. He needed advice, but he was far from thrilled at becoming more indebted to Benoit. He sighed heavily and called her.

"Yes?"

"I've found our rogue vampire," he said as he headed across the street. He eyed the tracks that led to the nearby railyard. A chain link fence topped with razor wire did little to prevent the growing collection of graffiti spanning a concrete wall on the opposite side of the tracks.

"Dead already?" Benoit said in delighted surprise. "You work fast. We should hire you out."

"Unfortunately, no. A thrall is standing guard, and the others I've tracked down have no knowledge of the interior."

"A pity." She clicked her tongue several times. "Very well. We'll call the police. They can take it from here."

An incredulous wheeze escaped Kieran. "I'd rather not," he hissed. "You can't tr—"

"They can be an effective distraction."

Kieran breathed through the anger that Benoit's calm voice and rationality elicited. "I can't enthrall an entire squad of policemen," he said glumly.

"Not on your own. Hilda and Beauregard can maintain a small group guarding an entrance without issue."

"It is a large building," Kieran reluctantly admitted. "But without knowing where he's keeping Jack…" He broke off with a heavy sigh. "I don't know what to do. This is a far cry from staking a claim on hunting grounds."

"Question the thrall. That's what you've been doing, non?"

"This one is—"

"I don't care how deep he is. I've seen you steal Lorenzo's thralls out of spite," she snapped. "It was your favorite pastime before I put a stop to it, so don't you dare say you can't."

Kieran stiffened and swallowed. He didn't need reminding of how easily hurt he was. This time, at least, he would be lashing out on someone else's behalf.

"Now go get this one. Text me your location, or I'll have Beau describe a dark haired Irishman instead of a blond miscreant."

Kieran leaned against the chain link fence and glared down the street. A small clutch of vampires could easily hide nearby and dissuade any patrolling officers from remembering them. "Yes, ma'am."

"There's a good lad."

Definitely his mother's reincarnation.