They fell silent as Manlius focused on the road. About thirty minutes later, they turned off the highway and entered the city.
Boaz could not remember the last time he had been here. Hansel usually handled most of the deliveries while he stayedback at the pack. He stared out the window at the tall buildings and busy streets. It was a stark change from the forest he preferred.
“Why do you live in Claremore?” he asked, turning to Manlius.
Manlius sighed, his hands tightening on the steering wheel again. “City life is not for me. I used to like it when I was younger, but not anymore.”
Boaz glanced at the sorcerer, feeling like there was a story there, but he wasn’t one to pry. Manlius navigated the traffic and they stopped at a light, turned left, and came to a halt in front of a high wall with an iron-wrought gate.
“Brett lives here. I always thought it was a government building,” he said, looking at the coat of arms on the wall.
“It is, in a way,” Manlius said as the gate slowly opened.
“Wow,” Boaz said, leaning forward as the eighteenth-century-style building came into view. Manicured lawns and neatly trimmed trees filled the grounds. “This is beautiful.”
“Yeah… yeah,” Manlius said, unimpressed. He put the car in park and opened his door. “Let’s go.”
Boaz jumped out and followed the sorcerer to the door. “What’s your problem? This place is amazing. Is it a school or something?” he asked as he spotted a few children playing in the grounds.
“I don’t have a problem. I just hate coming here,” Manlius said, shoving the door open.
Boaz followed him inside, looking around, but he couldn’t see anything that would justify the hostility. The section of the building they entered was clean and well kept. Paintings hung on the walls, and benches were placed neatly along the corridor, with flowers in vases on every surface. The place felt serene, welcoming.
“It seems nice,” Boaz said.
“I never said it wasn’t nice. I said I hate it here,” Manlius replied as he came to a stop in front of a door. He knocked.
A few seconds passed with no answer.
“Brett?” he called.
“I’m coming, hold on a second,” Brett said from inside.
The door opened and a young man with blue hair stepped out. He looked over his shoulder, then sighed. “Don’t lose hope, Benjamin. Everyone is different,” Brett said softly.
So it was a school of sorts.
Benjamin nodded and walked down the hallway, leaving them alone.
“Manlius,” Brett said, turning his attention to the warlock.
“What did you want to show me?” Manlius asked.
“This way,” Brett said, closing the door behind him. He walked down the hallway. Boaz glanced at Manlius before following.
“Did you find something in Alexander’s blood? Is that why you wanted more?” Boaz asked.
“Yes,” Brett said.
“What did you find?” Manlius asked, falling into step beside him.
“You’ll see for yourself,” Brett said, coming to a stop at the end of the hallway.
He opened a door on his left and stepped inside. Manlius followed, and Boaz came after him, descending a set of wooden steps.
A déjà vu hit Boaz as he reached the basement, the memory of the monastery flashing through his mind. But instead of an iron coffin, there were three cages in the middle of the room.
Inside each cage were young witches.