Abaddon's Gift

Chapter One

Theon sat in his study, contemplating opening the rather expensive bottle of scotch which sat in the bottom drawer of his desk. The bottle was from a grateful mother, gifted to him nearly a decade previous when he saved her daughter's virginity from the grasp of an outlaw mage.

Every morning, he sat at his desk and considered opening it.

The last vestige he had of a life he no longer led.

With an annoyed sigh, Theon stood, knowing he would not open the bottle that day.

Instead, he moved to the cupboard along the wall of his study. He opened the oak doors and tried not to grumble as the hinges creaked and the wood groaned at his touch.

All new furniture, nothing broken in for him, what else could he expect?

He reached behind the bottles of hemlock and oleander, grazing his fingers over the polished bit of obsidian hiding behind the bottles, then further back. From that place which no other person dared touch, he withdrew a newer, cheaper, bottle of scotch and a glass.

Theon poured himself half a glass of scotch, not caring about the appropriate amount a man should have in his glass. The scotch was cheap enough that its owner wouldn't care about it going missing from his inventory.

Definitely not a drink one sipped and enjoyed.

He sniffed the top of the glass as he turned, however. Taking in the scent of alcohol and the way the stuff burned at the back of his nose and throat. The scent reminded him he was alive, that this was all still reality, and he was, for the most part, living a calm life.

Until he laid eyes on his nephew standing by the door. Graydon's blue-grey eyes narrowed to pinpricks as Theon raised the glass to his lips. His nephew's eyebrows raised, which made Theon sigh and lower his glass slightly.

"Did your mother bring you?" he asked.

"No," Graydon said. "I reported for the year yesterday morning, and you weren't there."

Theon grunted and raised the glass to his lips, taking a large mouthful of scotch. He liked to hold it in his mouth as it burned, paining him annoyingly. That too was a reminder, that his body still worked, that he still lived.

"But Father arrived this morning."

Theon leaned over the glass and let the scotch dribble back out, into the glass. He turned, bottle in one hand, glass in the other, and placed both behind the belladonna and delphinium bottles, which were so covered by dust they were nearly impossible to identify.

He swallowed several times, running his tongue over his teeth and the inside of his mouth as he swallowed several more times, hoping to rid his mouth of enough of the scotch that it might not be detectable from a distance. He reached up and wiped at his lips with two fingers.

"Why?" Theon asked.

"You reported a storm over the Cape," Graydon said. "Four mage signs over two years, but the first three were underwhelming."

"He thinks there's a rogue," Theon said.

For a moment, Theon felt a twitter of anticipation in his chest. He glanced past Graydon, to the door of his study, which stood open. He dared not voice his anticipation, nor his desire to leave university grounds.

"Mother also asked me to give you something," Graydon said.

He withdrew a sealed letter from behind his back. He held the thick envelope out to Theon.

Theon frowned at the seal, the red wax imprinted with the hydra emblem of the Pan family. His frown deepened as he glanced over the envelope, to Graydon.