Chapter Twenty-nine

J osef was startled, although not surprised, to find Daljeet Dutta leaning casually against the looming bulk of Queen Anne’s Mansion Flats, smoking a cigarette. Dutta’s bright red turban gave a splash of colour to the grey February morning and suggested he wasn’t trying to be inconspicuous.

Well, neither was Josef. Shoulders back, he headed straight for the stairs leading up to the entrance. Dutta moved easily to intercept. “Shepel,” he said cordially. “I hoped I might run into you.”

Josef considered punching him in the face, rejected the idea, and said, “Can’t say I feel the same.”

“I imagine not.” Dutta took a drag on his gasper, blew out an elegant stream of smoke, and said, “Nevertheless, I want to warn you.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Josef said, folding his arms. “I’m not afraid of you, or your bloody Society. Tell Saint to shove his warning where the sun don’t shine.”

Dutta’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not here on behalf of The Society.” In a different voice, he said, “I’m here as a friend.”

“You’re not my friend.”

“No. I am Alex’s friend, however.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

Dutta’s eyelids fluttered, the only sign of an emotional reaction. “You may think what you wish, but I came here to warn you that Alex is… not what he was.” His expression darkened. “You should prepare yourself.”

Despite his distrust of Dutta, Josef’s heart gave an unpleasant kick. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning that, if you’re going to run scared, it would be better if you left him alone.”

Josef’s cheeks heated. “I’m not going to run scared. I’m no coward.”

“No?” Dutta regarded him cooly, dropped his cigarette stub on the pavement, and ground it out with the toe of his shoe. “I told him from the outset that you’d be trouble, and I was right. This is where you’ve brought him. Remember that, when you go inside.”

“Where I’ve brought him?” Josef hissed. “If it was up to you, he’d be dead.”

“True. Judge for yourself which of us is the better friend.”

With that he turned and stalked away, leaving Josef to watch him go with a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach. He glanced up at the faceless windows of the mansion flats, and his scalp prickled. What the hell was he going to find inside?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Bracing his shoulders, Josef headed up the steps. As he’d expected, the doorman took one look at him and stepped forward. “Tradesman’s entrance is to the side, mate.”

“And I’ll be sure to tell any tradesmen I meet,” Josef said with a smile. “But I’m here to see Lord Alexander Beaumont. I’ve an appointment at twelve o’clock. For luncheon.”

The doorman looked sceptical.

Fishing in his pocket, Josef said, “I know the way,” and slipped the man half a crown. “No need to bother the concierge. He looks busy.”

With that, he walked quickly into the foyer and headed straight for the lift. Happily, the concierge was indeed busy placating a tall woman wearing an enormous hat and unfashionably long skirts and carrying a small dog tucked under one arm. Her strident demands for assistance with her luggage echoed around the lobby.

Stepping smartly into the hydraulic lift, Josef pulled the lever and let it whisk him up to the fourth floor. The last time he’d been here it had been dark, but this morning, the February light, still wintery but with a hint of spring strength, spilled into the corridor and lit his way to Alex’s door.

There, he hesitated. He’d told himself that truth, or the quest for it, had brought him here but as he stared at the black, polished door, he realised that hope was the true culprit. Hope that all was not lost, that something could be salvaged of his friendship with Alex.

As improbable and impossible as it had been, the bond they’d forged meant something. He wanted it to continue; Alex might not. If Dutta was right, Alex might not even be capable of friendship. His heart shrank from that, from what he might find behind the door, but he’d told Dutta the truth: he was no coward. He’d never been a coward, no matter what anyone thought, and he’d never run away from the truth.

Lifting his hand, Josef rapped on the door. Stomach clenching, pulse accelerating, he waited. And waited. His mouth went dry. He wet his lips, hesitated, and knocked again.

Rap, rap, rap.

A sound came from behind the door, the rattle of a key in the lock, a muffled curse. Josef’s adrenaline surged, a quicksilver flare in his chest, and the door opened.

“I didn’t order any bloody tea—” Alex broke off abruptly. His eyes went wide and, for the briefest moment, astonished.

“Pity,” Josef said, pulse racing, “I could do with a cuppa.”

Alex scowled. He leaned heavily on a black cane, his face pale and pinched, overgrown hair on the unkempt side of tousled. Shadows gathered beneath his eyes, and stubble darkened his jawline. Frankly, he looked awful. But he looked human, and Josef felt weak-kneed with relief.

“How did you get in?” Alex growled. “I said no visitors.”

“The usual way—I bribed the doorman. And since I am here, can I come in?”

“No.” He wasn’t looking at Josef, gaze lowered, half hidden by his too-long hair. “I don’t want to see you.” He started to shut the door, but Josef got his foot in the way.

“I want to see you,” he said. “I want to see how you are, that’s all. You look…” He studied Alex’s eyes, all trace of the ghoulish blue gone, although somehow still haunted. “You look yourself again, more or less.”

Alex laughed; the sound raised the hairs on Josef’s scalp. “More or less, yes.” His expression darkened further. “There, you’ve seen how I am. Now you can go. I’m not fit for—”

“Company? Yes, Lottie told me you’d say that.”

“She—? You’ve spoken to her?”

“Only way to find out if you were still alive, wasn’t it? Look, are you going to let me in? You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m fine,” Alex grumbled, but he turned away from the door, leaving it open as he hobbled back into the flat, and so Josef followed.

The rooms were much as Josef remembered. That was no real surprise because it had been months, not years, since his last visit in those desperate hours after Alex had been bitten. What was a shock was the state of the place. The curtains were mostly closed, plunging the flat into gloomy half-light, and there was clutter everywhere: unwashed plates and cups stacked on the sideboard, discarded bits of clothing on the chairs, disarrayed newspapers and books splayed open on the floor. If Alex employed a maid, she hadn’t been in for a long time.

Alex didn’t seem to notice any of it, limping slowly through the chaos towards the cold, unlit fireplace. He turned, awkward with his stick, and lowered himself into one of the armchairs. A table stood next to it, a plate with an untouched slice of buttered bread, curling at the corners, sitting atop a pile of books.

Josef observed all this as he took the settee opposite Alex, pushing aside a sweater and cardigan to make room. “I tried to see you,” he said. “I went to Belgrave Square five times, but they turned me away. Said you weren’t accepting visitors.”

“I wasn’t.” Alex rested his gaze on the floor between them. “I’m not.”

“And yet here I am.”

A flicker of Alex’s gaze touched Josef’s. “You never did know what was good for you.”

Josef smiled slightly, but didn’t argue. Dutta had been right. Alex wasn’t the man he had been, but he wasn’t the monster Josef had feared. He was in a hole, though, no doubt about that. Glancing around the room, Josef said, “Shall I open the curtains? It’s gloomy in here.”

“I don’t need you to wait on me.”

“Good, because I’ve no intention of waiting on you, or anyone else.”

He went to the window to pull back the curtain, but Alex snapped, “Don’t!” Startled, Josef turned around to find Alex scowling at him. “It’s too bright. My eyes…” He gestured towards his face. “Sensitive to daylight.”

Josef swallowed, letting his hand fall from the curtain; he didn’t need to be told why. “I see. How about a lamp, then? Is that easier?”

Alex was still scowling, but after a moment, he nodded. “If you like. I don’t need it.”

There were two elegant gas lamps on the mantelpiece, so Josef found the matches and lit them. He kept the gas low, one eye on Alex to see how he reacted to the light, but he didn’t flinch or shade his eyes. Just daylight that bothered him, then.

He wondered whether this was something that would improve, or remain a permanent legacy of Alex’s infection by the ghoul. He wondered whether it was the only legacy. And he didn’t dare ask either question. Instead, he sat back down on the settee and said, “How’s the leg? It was a bad break, but I’ve seen worse.”

“I’m sure you have.” Alex gave him another of those flickering looks and added, gruffly, “There was an infection in the bone, but it’s healing now. They say I’ll always need the stick.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose the leg.”

Alex grunted; he didn’t sound grateful. “I’d have rather lost the leg than—” He clamped his jaw on that thought and said, briskly, “Well, you’ve done your duty. Thank you for your visit. You’ll excuse me for not showing you out.”

Ignoring that, Josef said, “It’s bloody cold in here. Why don’t you have the fire lit?”

“I don’t need it. Anyway, I can’t…” He waved at his injured leg.

“What happened to your maid?” Josef said, rising.

“I don’t need a maid.”

Josef didn’t bother arguing with that obvious untruth, just went to the fireplace where he saw that a fire had already been laid. All he needed to do was set a match to the kindling, which he did, crouching down and watching the flames dance along the dry wood. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

“What?”

He turned and looked at Alex slumped in his chair, lame leg stretched out before him. “Breakfast. The first meal of the day? Customarily eggs and bacon, toast, tea.”

Alex didn’t dignify that quip with a response.

“Well, I haven’t eaten,” Josef went on, “so I’m going to see what you have in your kitchen and—”

“What the devil are you playing at?”

“I’m not playing,” Josef snapped, standing up. “I’m helping you.”

“I don’t want your help!”

Josef snorted. “Right, you’re just fine sitting here in the cold and dark.”

“For God’s sake!” Alex snarled. “Won’t you just go ?”

His words rang in the silent room, challenge and accusation.

Heart thumping thickly, Josef made himself say, “I will, if that’s really what you want.”

Alex stared at him, eyes dark with anguish. “God help me,” he rasped, “it should be...”

Blowing out a slow breath, Josef lowered himself into the other armchair. Close enough that their knees were almost brushing. “Tell me. Are you recovered from the infection?”

Alex spread his hands, clenching his jaw. “As you see.”

Which, Josef noted with a journalist’s ear, was not a yes.

In the doorway, Alex had looked dishevelled. Now, in the lamplight, Josef could see that he was still unwell. Grey shadows hollowed his cheeks, skin like milk save high points of pink on his cheekbones. Feverish, perhaps. Or agitated. “Christ,” Josef said vehemently, “won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

Alex looked away, towards the curtained windows. “What do you want to know?”

“The truth, what else?”

“I thought you’d be sick of the truth by now.”

Josef laughed, but he wasn’t remotely amused. “And I thought you’d be sick of hiding it, but here we are.”

“I’m not hiding—” Alex glared at him. “Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you?”

“From what? You ?”

In the silence that followed, Josef locked his gaze on Alex’s dark and angry eyes. Neither looked away. Roughly, his breath catching, Josef said, “Are you still…?” He tried to swallow the dryness in his throat. “Still infected? Tell me.”

Alex held his eyes for a long time, then blinked once, slowly. “The infection has passed, but it left me … altered. My eyes…” His gaze slipped away. “I can see extremely well in the dark, and poorly in daylight. I have troubling thoughts, and when I sleep—which I do rarely—the nightmares are worse. I can sense…” He closed his eyes, throat working as he swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was a hoarse rasp. “I’m closer to the Otherworld; I can sense its presence at the borders of our own. I can feel it all the time.”

Josef had no idea what that meant, but he could see from Alex’s grim expression that it must be fearful. “What about The Society?” he said. “Can they help you?”

His expression grew wry. “Saint thinks it makes me useful.”

“’Course he fucking does. And what do you think?”

Alex’s eyes lifted to Josef’s. “I think it makes me dangerous.”

“Ah,” Josef said softly, finally understanding. “Which is why you’ve decided to live like a hermit, I suppose?”

“I’m not safe around people.”

“Not even me?”

“Especially not you.”

Josef leaned forward, elbows on knees, studying Alex. So close he could have reached out and touched Alex’s leg. He didn’t. “Because you blame me for refusing to end your life, for leaving you in the tunnels?” Alex’s confused frown made him add, “You called me a fucking coward.”

“I called you a coward?”

“A fucking coward, yes.”

Alex’s expression changed, softening into distress in a way that made Josef’s throat ache. “I don’t remember very much,” he said roughly, “but I do remember you standing between me and Dutta’s gun. And I remember you carrying me out of that place on your back. For God’s sake, Josef, how could I think you a coward when you saved my life?”

Carefully, Josef said, “I suppose that depends on whether you think it’s a life worth saving.”

Alex frowned. “Do you think I’d rather be dead?”

“Dutta thinks so.”

“He told you that?”

“Bumped into him outside. I think he was waiting for me.”

Alex scrubbed a hand through his tangled hair. “Dutta doesn’t understand. He’s never been—I don’t blame you for anything. You made a hard choice, a brave choice, and it was the right one.”

Bowing his head, Josef was overcome. He hadn’t realised how oppressed he’d been by Alex’s shouted accusation, how deeply he’d taken guilt into his heart. “Thank you,” he said, careless of the emotion in his voice. Let Alex hear it; he wanted him to know. Looking up, he said it again, “Thank you.”

“It’s the truth,” Alex said quietly. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? For the truth.”

“It is, yes.”

Their gazes tangled across the small space that separated them. Alex’s hair, too long and falling over his ears, gleamed in the glow of the gas lamps, their golden light adding warmth to his pallid skin. His lips, though, were a determined line. “Then you have it,” he said. “And now you should go.”

Josef frowned. “But that’s not what you want.”

“It’s for the best.”

“Not for me, it isn’t.”

Alex was silent, then said, “What do you want of me, Josef? I’ve told you what I am.”

“I want us to be friends—” He stopped himself. “No, I came here for the truth so here it is. I want us to be more than friends. I want us to be what we were a few months ago, and to see where that road takes us. And I came here to find out if you want the same.”

Alex closed his eyes, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles were turning white. “Of course I want the same. Christ, I’ve thought of nothing but you these past weeks. You’ve set my heart on fire. You’re in my blood. In my bones. But—” He opened his eyes, the glitter of moisture on his lashes. “Can’t you see it’s impossible?”

Josef leaned forward, only inches left between them. “No. Why?”

“Because look at me!” Alex cried. “Look at what I am. Half monster!”

“Bollocks. The only monstrous thing about you is your bloody title, and if I can put up with that, I can put up with anything.”

“My—” Alex seemed to run out of words, then choked out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Damn it, Shepel, this is serious.”

“Life or death,” Josef agreed. “I choose life.”

I choose you.

Alex said, “I don’t know what…” He gestured at himself. “Things may improve; they may get worse. I could… hurt you.”

“Like I said, life. What’s your point?”

“My point is that being with me is dangerous.”

Reaching out, Josef set his hand on Alex’s thigh, thumb stroking. “For men like us, being together is always dangerous. You know that. But I think, if we face it together, it’s a risk worth taking.” He stilled his hand. “Question is—do you?”

There was a pause that felt eternal. Even the clock on the mantelpiece seemed to hesitate, breath held. And then, in a rush, Alex said, “Christ, of course I do,” and reached out his arms.

Josef went to him, on his knees between Alex’s thighs, hugging him hard, breathing in the scent of his hair, his skin, as he buried his face in Alex’s neck, kissing him there. Feeling Alex shiver in his arms and give a single, stifled sob, Josef held him tighter. “Shh,” he said, “it’s all right.”

“Sorry,” Alex breathed, not letting go, speaking into Josef’s shoulder. “It’s just—I thought you were lost to me.”

“No,” Josef said fiercely. “Never.”

Alex pulled away, far enough that Josef could see his face. His pallid skin had colour now, a pink flush that chased away the dark circles beneath his eyes—eyes that glittered dark blue and beautiful. “Josef,” he said softly, lifting a hand to his face. “My Joe, can we truly have this?”

Josef smiled into those eyes, feeling his heart find its rhythm. The same as Alex’s, beating in tandem. Together. Together against the world. “Yes,” he said, cupping Alex’s aristocratic, annoyingly perfect face in his palm. “Now kiss me, you idiot.”

And he did, gently at first but swiftly igniting, burning away all the fear and trauma, consuming everything that had come between them until nothing was left but desire, untarnished by anything that had gone before.

Desire, and more.

Josef didn’t dare name the feeling burning behind his breastbone, but it was there, nonetheless. Deep in his heart, beating steadily. And he understood that he stood at a fork in the road, that he was consciously choosing the path to a future that glittered bright and full of danger.

A future he could only have with Alex.

The only future he wanted.

THE END