Double Alchemy: Climax Read Free

horses, stud, and those naughty thoughts. I really need to go pee. Perhaps you can open a bottle of wine and we can sit and enjoy each other a little.” He smiled sadly. “I know Graham’s gone but we’re still here and it’s Christmas Eve. We need to forget all the bad stuff for a while.”
    He disappeared to the bathroom. Quinn needed no urging. He went over to the wine rack, drew out a bottle of red wine and proceeded to open it, pouring it into large wine glasses. He heard a plaintive “meow” below him and turned to see Marco Polo rubbing himself against his legs.
    “Marco, where have you been all day then? I don’t think I’ve seen you at all today.”
    He took the two glasses of wine over to the centre table, placing them down and picking up the remote control. With a few button presses, the curtains closed around the room, the lights dimmed and with another flick, the Bluetooth system switched on, linked to Quinn’s mobile phone. The mellow tones of one of his favourite artists, Ben Howard, filled the room with sound. He looked around in satisfaction, happy that he’d set the right mood for a bit of ‘enjoyment’ with Cade. It all looked fairly festive and he’d rather be nowhere else than here with him now.
    It might seem shallow, the two of them enjoying themselves when Graham and his family were dead, but Quinn was realistic. He knew better than most that the past couldn’t be undone, that neither of them could change anything and that life itself needed to be celebrated. Especially on Christmas Eve. Quinn might not believe in the religion of the event but he knew Cade liked the tradition.
    Quinn had just sat down and taken a sip of his wine when he felt a tickle in his nose. He looked down and swore. His nose was bleeding again, small drops that dripped onto his favourite Ralph Lauren work shirt. Nosebleeds appeared to have become an occupational hazard since he’d undergone Unity with his Withinner, had a hex put on him by a witch and undergone a major battle with an uber-Warlock. It was something he was learning to live with but his laundry pile seemed to be getting higher and higher each day.
    He stood, making his way over to the kitchen and as he stood up, his vision blurred and a familiar nausea rose in his chest. Gagging, he barely made it to the ground floor bathroom before vomiting up what was left of the steak and ale pie he’d had earlier on. He hugged the toilet bowl, his head spinning and his spirits plummeting as he realised what was happening.
    Somewhere in the city, a Warlock was dying.
    Cade stood anxiously watching Quinn sitting on the closed toilet, his face pale, his head back, trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose. It hadn’t abated since Cade had come down and found him being sick in the bathroom. The facecloth had once again been run under cold water and placed across the bridge of his nose.
    “Are you feeling any better?” he asked quietly. Quinn suffered terribly when one of his own died and the resulting aftermath left him drained for days afterward.
    Quinn nodded. “The sick feeling’s gone. It’s just this bloody nosebleed. I’m getting sick of this,” he said fiercely, closing his eyes, his brow furrowed.
    Cade laid a hand on his shoulder. “Do you think it’s Jeremy Payton who’s killed someone?” Jeremy Payton was the Witchfinder General, a psychopathic fifteen-year-old boy that Quinn had been tracking for the past two months. He was a real danger to Quinn’s world. Jeremy had escaped the last battle Quinn had fought with him by literally disappearing into thin air.
    Quinn sighed tiredly. “I don’t know. Perhaps, but it could just be a simple death, if there is such a thing, by which I mean one not involving the Witchfinder. It was a violent death, I could sense it. But until we find out who died, we have no bloody idea. Perhaps Percy can help when he calls.” He frowned. “He’s normally called by now. I wonder what’s keeping