#grindelore

The metal door swung open with a metal bang . Two guards in sand-coloured uniforms roughly escorted the prisoner outside. His hair was long and dirty blond, and his clothes had seen better days. The guards threw him forward and he grabbed onto the metal bars with both hands, baring his teeth at their guide.

He looked almost feral . But at least his hands were handcuffed.

One guard kicked the back of his knee and he sank down, his piercing blue eyes never leaving Albus’.

The guide, rather smartly, backed up, gesturing for Albus and Aberforth to step forward. Albus stayed where he was. “This is the man you stole it from?” he asked Aberforth.

“Yes, exactly,” Aberforth replied, “so why don’t we go sniff out a spot off tiff in—”

“Who are you?” the prisoner interrupted, raising his voice. It was rough, probably from lack of food or water, but still, it sent a shudder up Albus’ spine. “And what do you want?”

“Well, I-I’m a local missionary sort of chap, spreading the good word,” Aberforth lied as he stepped closer, “and this is my brother, Al.” He grabbed Albus’ elbow and dragged him forward.

“Hello,” Albus managed.

The prisoner snorted. “Right.”

Albus felt his cheeks colour in offence.

A commotion started somewhere behind them, and their guide shouted more in Arabic. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Then he quickly started towards the shouting.

“Ask him about the box,” Aberforth hissed, pushing Albus even closer to the bars.

“We both found your puzzle box,” Albus said, “and we’ve come to ask you about it.”

“No,” the man said immediately.

“No,” Albus echoed, a frown pinching at his brows.

“No,” the prisoner agreed. “You came to ask me about Hamunaptra.”

Aberforth immediately started shushing him and glancing over his shoulder at the surrounding witnesses, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

“How do you know the box pertains to Hamunaptra?” Albus asked.

“Because that’s where I was when I found it,” the prisoner replied. “I was there.”

Aberforth stepped forward, crouching down to meet the prisoner’s eye level. “How do we know that’s not a load of pig shit?”

The prisoner frowned. “Do I know you?”

“No, no,” Aberforth denied. “I’ve just got one of those faces.”

Recognition lit up in the prisoner’s eyes, and in a split second, he lunged his fist through the bars and struck Aberforth across the cheek. His brother groaned and stumbled onto the ground while the guard still behind the prisoner grabbed him, holding him still. He struck him with his gun, and the prisoner grunted in pain.

But Albus ignored his brother, neatly stepping over his crumpled form to get closer to the prisoner. “Wait, you were actually at Hamunaptra?”

The prisoner grinned. “Yeah, I was there.”

“You swear?” Albus asked. He wasn’t sure if he could take his word for it, but he had no other way of verifying it. “The real Hamunaptra?”

“Are you doubting me?” he asked.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Albus insisted. He also couldn’t risk alienating this man.

“I know what you meant,” the man said. “But I know. I was there. City of the Dead.”

Well, he seemed to know what he was talking about. “Could you tell me how to get there?” Albus heard the guide yelling again, so he crouched down at the man’s eye level, lowering his voice. He didn’t want anyone to overhear. “The exact location?”

“You really wanna know?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Albus replied.

“Do you really wanna know?” the man asked, leaning closer.

“Yes,” Albus said, tone more insistent.

He gestured closer, two fingers curling between the gaps of the bars. Albus stepped closer, then closer still when the man continued to urge him closer, leaning down between two metal bars.

Then his hand quickly grasped his chin, yanking him in close for a searing kiss. Albus gasped, a hand circling the nearest bar, but couldn’t pull away.

“Then get me the hell out of here!” the man hissed into his mouth. Then hands were dragging the prisoner away. Their guide showed up, shouting at the prisoner and waving at the guards with his hands. Albus stumbled back from the cell, his gaze never leaving the prisoner’s chilly blue eyes until the door banged shut.

His lips were buzzing, warmth spreading to the rest of his face. His hands were shaking at his sides, but Albus didn’t know if that was nerves or adrenaline.

“Where are they taking him?” Albus asked, tone urgent.