Marcus's hands were bound in his lap. He wrung them over and over, a clear sign of his agitation. As if the wide, wild eyes and gaping mouth weren't enough evidence of his mental state. He was kept a prisoner all of the time. They trotted him out when they needed the information only an air witch could provide.

Information like they needed now.

Crane had hauled Marcus to the frozen wastelands of Minnesota in deep February, all in order to see if he could somehow glean any intelligence about whether the woman resided in Jack's apartment or not. Mostly, Crane had received a big, fat nothing for his trouble, and he'd been worried he might have to admit David had been right about the witch not being at Jack's Minneapolis residence after all.

Then, finally, Marcus had heard something. The video and audio monitors in the room where they kept Marcus had shown him jarred from his sleep by some occurrence. The video footage showed him sliding out of the bed and trying to hide under it, obviously not happy that he'd gleaned information that Crane wanted and too addle-brained from the Ketamine dose to hide it well.

Crane reached out, grabbed Marcus's pudgy cheeks, and shook his head back and forth until his unruly black curls flew. "David says you heard something on the wind tonight, Marcus," he said. "You're going to tell us." He paused for effect. "Now.”

Marcus whimpered and rocked back and forth. "No, no, no, no!" he chanted. "I won't tell you. I won't!”

Enforced magickal servitude had driven Marcus a bit crazy, but it still hadn't broken him of these little ill-advised fits of rebellion.

Crane laughed. "Maaaar-cus," he sang softly. "Our wardbreakers have been unsuccessful, and that means I don't have time to play games. He stroked his fingers through his jet black curls, then clenched them hard and fast and yanked his head to the side. Marcus cried out, and spittle, an unfortunate side effect of the drugs, trailed out of the corner of his mouth. "Now tell us, like a good little pet air witch, and maybe I'll let you go back to your room and have a cookie.”

Marcus sniveled for a moment, and then clearly enunciated, "No.”

Crane sighed heavily. "Marcus, you know why we need to call the circle, correct?”

Marcus nodded.

"So you know I'll do anything in my power to gain an air witch to close it, yes?”

He nodded again.

"Then what do you think is stopping us from using you to close the circle?”

Uncertainty flashed through his brown eyes, chased by a dash of fear. Good.

"I'll tell you, Marcus. You're not very powerful, that's definitely one reason. Why, our little Marcus can barely call a light breeze, can he?" Crane laughed softly. "Damn those pesky genetics anyway. But the other reason, the far more important reason, is the cooperation that our Marcus gives us." Crane smiled. "Understand?”

Marcus nodded.