Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

SILAS ONLY ended the hugging under great duress; namely Pitch's threats to burn Silas's hair if he did not let Charlie have some room to breathe.

‘You are stronger than a dozen oxen, Silas. Leave him be.'

But he'd refused to let go of Charlie's hand as they made their way inside, and could not take his eyes from the lad, which was causing poor Charlie some consternation.

‘It is truly me, Silas. Do you not believe it?'

Waking in the cemetery, feeling as though he could take on any foe, any force, that awaited, and knowing the passing of all the lost souls had been so very peaceful, Silas had already been filled with happiness. But now…now he was strained at the seams with utter joy. ‘I am so pleased to see you, Charlie.' His eyes stung, and he knew the onset of his tears obvious to all, but what did that matter?

‘You're not going to start with the hugging again, are you?' Pitch sighed. ‘You may want to sit elsewhere, Charlie, for your own good.'

The lad laughed and Silas thought he might just fly apart with contentment.

‘Are you sure you are well?' Silas asked, for the third time.

After asking a housemaid where they might find some privacy she had directed them to this room; part formal dining room, part parlour, with a settee of faded sage velvet and deep mahogany fitted into the corner nearest the fireplace. With its larger size they were all afforded a seat without being atop one another, but that had not stopped Silas from sitting almost on top of Charlie so he could determine for himself the answer to the question.

‘I am.'

The lad was certainly tired, but no more than a night out would have made him. There were no evident bruises, scratches, or damage. Charlie's choppy hair needed trimming, and he looked to have spent far too long in his clothing: his brown corduroy trousers, and yellow-creme jacket with its spotted waistcoat beneath, creased beyond measure.

Pitch finished with giving the maid instructions to make her way to the Golden Rule at once and wake their companions. He joined Silas and Charlie, dropping onto the vacant end of the settee with a sigh. His cloak puffed up like the top of a pink mushroom.

‘How many times has Charlie told you he is fine?' he said. ‘Would you have him strip to prove it to us? Is that your end game here?'

Silas frowned but Charlie burst out laughing, blue eyes sparkling. ‘I worried you might have changed, after all you've been through, Tobias.'

Pitch's grin was there, but Silas was attuned to his subtler signs. The lad's remark was meant in kindness, but troubled Pitch nonetheless. As did Charlie's next remark.

‘Edward will be ever so pleased to see you both. Sanu has showed us many things, a lot of which we could not understand without context to do so…but we knew you both were alive…and that was more than enough for us.'

‘Has Edward's circumstance…changed?' Pitch was gruff, picking at his nails as though whatever the answer he cared very little.

Silas made yet another silent declaration to punch Seraphiel in the teeth, if that opportunity ever arose. Even if it were the mere spectre of the angel, Silas was equipped to show the ghost his displeasure.

‘He's doing very well, truly, Tobias.' Charlie rose and pressed his hands towards the fire where it crackled cheerily in the bricked hearth. The light drew out the slivers of auburn in his hair. Of which there seemed far more than Silas recalled. ‘He is a strong man, and endures his hardships with such a stoic temperament. I am terribly proud of him. And he assures me he feels no worse than he did since that day in the Fulbourn, when it all began.' It was clear the lad's feelings for the lieutenant had only grown since last Silas had watched them together at the country estate. ‘But I will be honest with you both, and say I fear he is not being honest with me about his suffering. I hope this can all be over and done with, before too long.'

Silas rose and moved to stand behind the lad, placing his hands on his shoulders. Charlie was no slip of a thing, even if he was diminutive in height there had always been something steely about him, but when he reached his hand to find Silas's, and clung on tight, it was a timely reminder that he was young, and human, after all.

‘Does he say anything of Seraphiel?' Pitch asked, and Silas knew the question would have burned its way up his throat.

Charlie took a moment to answer. ‘Not specifically. Only that whatever lies inside Edward is restless. Impatient, I think, now that you are so close.'

‘To the Sanctuary?' Silas asked.

But Charlie shrugged. ‘To where you need to be. But if where we've been waiting is a Sanctuary…well, I dare say you'll be disappointed. And you won't like the journey there. It was a bastard of a walk on foot. I'm knackered.'

‘Well, we are hardly stupid enough to walk. It shall be horses for us.' Pitch had forgone his nails and was punishing a lose thread on the settee.

‘I didn't have that luxury. Sanu needed to remain with Edward, and the Priest's Hole is not exactly near to any stables, or even a paddock where I could have stolen a horse.'

‘How did you find us, Charlie?' Silas took up another log to throw on the fire, as the lad rubbed his hands before the subtle flames.

‘A cuckoo arrived, even though it is far too early for them in the season.' Charlie's grin was wry. ‘But since when has anything made any sense of late? Sanu gave the bird a few strands of her tail, and that seemed to be all that was needed. I understood I was to follow it, and it led me…here.'

‘Silas,' Pitch exclaimed, perching upon the very edge of the seat. ‘That is hardly the question that needs asking. Sweet, holy Celestials, did you say you have been in a priest's hole, Charlie? You lucky thing. The pious ones are often the most lewd.'

‘Pitch, truly?' Silas sighed as he dug the poker into the coals, stirring them.

‘It's fine, Silas.' Charlie sighed. ‘Edward and I have already placed bets on how long it would take for Tobias to make a crude remark about it.'

‘What? Priest's holes are quite enjoyable. I've known a few in my time. How big is yours?'

‘And you say you are four hundred years old?' Silas said, exasperated ‘Are you certain you've not embellished that with several more centuries than it deserves?'

‘Says the ancient old man whose crows' feet are showing.'

‘You are idiots, amongst many other things.' Charlie grinned, sitting down once more, as Silas encouraged the fire. ‘But it is so wonderful to see you in such good spirits.' He reached for Pitch, grabbing his hand and squeezing. ‘I have missed you both, so terribly.'

‘And you lad, have grown far more adept at a decent lie.' Pitch pulled his hand from Charlie's grip, but Silas's heart danced to see the slight pink in his cheeks. ‘Tell me more of this priest and his hole.'

Charlie gave out a put-upon sigh. ‘Must you make every turn of phrase salacious?'

‘Yes.'

‘Fair enough. But this is not the hole you are insinuating, and you know it. Where Sanu took us may once have been used as a hiding place for a persecuted man of the cloth, but it's not sheltered a priest from strife in a long while. Now his presence is a legend only.'

‘If you say so.'

‘And I do,' Charlie laughed, and it was truly a wonderful moment for Silas as he found his place on the settee. ‘You may have known many a pious hole, Mr Astaroth, but I assure you, you haven't known this one, unless you are prone to rutting about in remote caves in the middle of the Lake District, which, honestly, I just cannot imagine.'

‘But you say you have walked from this place, Charlie?' Silas said, before Pitch could strike again. ‘How long has this journey taken you?'

‘A full day's walk.'

Silas and Pitch exchanged a glance, and he felt he knew the daemon's mind. A day's walk was not so far. They were upon a brink from which there was no return.

‘But we can do it in far less time on horseback, of course,' Charlie said, misunderstanding their quiet.

‘I see no need to rush.' Pitch was sullen.

‘Edward is alone, I cannot leave him –'

‘It's alright, Charlie,' Silas said, laying a reassuring hand on the lad's knee. ‘Of course we will go as soon as we've made preparations.' Perhaps those preparations could take a while, a day, a week. Silas shivered, despite the fire's substance.

‘I was being very cautious. Too slow, I'm sure,' Charlie said. ‘It has been a harrowing time, not knowing what has become of everyone.' He grew thoughtful. ‘Sanu tried very hard to show us, but about the only thing we truly understood was the loss of Hastings. The mare grieves, I do not need her language to know that. I'm so sorry to hear the news.'

Pitch's gaze shifted to the window, his focus distant. ‘Our enemies have paid their price. There is only one left to bother us still.' He shrugged. ‘Perhaps two, if my dear Pappa changes his ever-shifting mind, again.'

‘Your father seeks you harm?' Charlie glanced at Silas, his concerns clear. But Silas shook his head.

‘He is no longer a concern, I'm certain,' he said. ‘There was a misunderstanding, but all is well now.'

He expected a curt, vile rebuttal from Pitch, but none came. The prince was still worryingly lost in his own thoughts. He rubbed at his finger, as though he still wore the scythe there.

‘Pitch? Everything alright?'

In answer he got to his feet, turning his back on them. ‘Stop fussing, Silas. I'm going to bathe. I'm certainly not going to traipse about the countryside with dirt between my arse cheeks. '

‘Oh, what a wonderful idea,' Charlie sighed.

‘If you think to join me, best you clear it with Silas first.' Pitch was careless. ‘We could have him watch, I suppose? In time, he may be convinced to join us.'

Charlie's eyes went wide. ‘I don't want to bathe with you.'

‘Oh, I suspect you do.'

‘You are no detective then, I assure you,' Charlie coughed with laughter, chasing the bleakness from the room. ‘I could not think of anything worse.'

Silas sighed, playing his part in the charade. But he kept a careful watch on his lover. Despite Pitch's return to vulgar form, Silas did not trust the honesty of his mood. The prince was not so carefree as he sought to appear.

‘I need not go with you, if you'd like a moment alone?' Silas was struck by how rarely the daemon had such an opportunity. If Pitch were not in the hands of his captor, he was a prisoner of a different sort, with Silas unwilling to let him out of his sight for fear of losing him again. ‘I shall not be insulted in the slightest if you'd like to be on your own for a while.'

Pitch stopped where he had paced halfway to the door. He stood, saying nothing for so long that Charlie tugged at Silas's sleeve, giving him a questioning look. He shrugged, uncertain the cause of this strange pregnant pause.

‘What of you, Silas?' Pitch said, finally, in the hushed way he so rarely adopted. ‘Do you wish to distance yourself from me?'

Silas frowned at the sudden frailty. ‘You know the answer to that, Pitch.'

‘But perhaps your goddess gives you no say in the matter. Perhaps, you are yet to tell me that you too have been instructed to end our journey here.'

There it was. The crux of the matter. Understanding the prince's darker thoughts nearly buckled Silas's knees.

‘My goddess knows better than to waste her divine breath with such pitiful notions. No such instruction has come, and if it did, then heaven help the messenger, for they would have all manner of blasphemy to carry back to her.' He strode up to Pitch, who had not yet moved. To his relief he caught the subtle lift of a cautious smile on the daemon's lips. All the knots which had wound themselves, unravelled quickly, but he had one more point to make. ‘Do not ever ask me again, if I am considering leaving your side.'

‘Or what?' Pitch was returning to himself, the wickedness hinting in his eyes once more.

Silas ran his hand over Pitch's arse. ‘Or, I shall take you to the Royal Botanical Gardens in London, and make you listen, as I list every single plant by their Latin name.'

Pitch's sharp intake of breath, the flutter of fingertips at his mouth, made Silas's blood warm. ‘You are a monster.'

‘You had best believe it.'

Charlie coughed. ‘Gentlemen, the consensual torture shall have to wait, I'm afraid. We are about to be bombarded.'