He's defective. Damaged. Malcolm knows he is. How could he not be, after a year of torture in the belly of a goblins' nest? The only magic he can do is the Touch, a perverted magic he despises and learned at the end of a whip. Every one else in the Glamour Club has loads of magic, but not him. He doesn't fit it. But if he can't find his magic, and his place among the Sidhe, then where could he go? And what if those that enslaved him before came after him again?