Page 1 of Six for Gold (The Magpie Rhyme #6)

T here were six.

Then five.

And then four.

Three.

Two.

Even hundreds of miles away while vacationing in a secluded cottage on a cliff edge, Romeo thought about the magpies. He’d found the third dead the morning of his and Chad’s trip, viciously pecked to death with its feathers drifting over the field.

Romeo had stopped putting out seed, but the magpies still came.

He sent stones hurtling the raven’s way whenever he caught a glimpse of it on the outhouse roof.

It was one bird he desperately wanted to kill.

One bird he aimed for.

But whenever he tried, he missed.

And Chad would lift an eyebrow at yet another loud thump to the outhouse tiles.

But Chad didn’t understand.

This raven , this monster that had killed his magpies, Romeo had been unable to predict. There had been warning signs, ones Romeo had overlooked. Chad had questioned him before over his favoritism towards the magpies, Romeo’s discrimination against other birds, but Romeo had just thought Chad’s jealousy endearing.

He never saw the magpies like Romeo did.

Chad had told him about a big black bird he kept spotting, but Romeo had rolled his eyes, believing Chad was seeing shadows where there wasn’t any.

And then it had come and broke a moment of peace with violence.

Romeo had been blind to what was happening, caught unaware, and that left him on edge.

Time, Chad told him, give it time and the raven would lose interest. It would leave, and he could go back to feeding the birds—all of the birds—not just the magpies, and the order Romeo had changed would be restored.

Romeo hadn’t replied. It was a logical assumption yet offered Romeo no comfort.

Chad had snorted and called him superstitious.

Romeo wondered whether Chad was right.

His apparent ignorance to a situation had left him uncomfortable, and his gut continued to twist and curl days after he’d realized his mistake.

By turning a blind eye to all others, he’d not foreseen a predator on the horizon.

Romeo sighed and ran a hand over Mercutio’s head.

They were sitting on a huge rock facing the sea. Romeo admired the seagulls dipping and diving. Mercutio’s focus remained on his tennis ball. He dropped it from his mouth, watching as it rolled across the rock before falling out of sight. Then he glanced at Romeo, asking for permission to jump down to find it. His grey eyes found Romeo’s green ones, pleading silently to be allowed his ball.

“Go on.” Romeo murmured.

Mercutio jumped down. His paws crunched in the pebbles as he snapped up his ball, then he returned to Romeo’s side on the rock. He lay down, content, but twenty seconds later he dropped the ball again. It rolled off the edge, but this time Romeo ignored the pleading grey eyes and resumed watching the seagulls instead.

They’d needed the trip away, Chad in particular. Romeo turned, running his gaze up the cliff. It was a hundred foot tall, and an iron staircase had been built into the rock. The cottage at the top was small with only one bedroom, but it had a balcony off the living room that looked out over the sea.

That was Chad’s favorite spot.

He seemed to find some kind of peace gazing out at the waves.

But he wasn’t on the balcony when Romeo looked.

Romeo slipped off the rock. He whistled for Mercutio who came to his side, having retrieved his ball.

“Let’s go find dad.”

Mercutio took off first, clambering up the metal steps, tail a blur as he hurried to find Chad. Romeo followed, just as eager, but with not nearly as many tells.

He ran his hand up the rail as he took each step. It was early October, not cold as such, but definitely not warm. Most of their time had been spent inside the cottage, occasionally strolling out to walk Mercutio and make their way hand in hand up the beach.

Romeo had banned Chad from using his phone other than to check in with Ally and Josh. They didn’t watch the news, but snuggled up to Netflix, and they bought their food in advance so Chad wouldn’t be potentially recognized in the supermarket.

The press and public were brutal, and Romeo knew he couldn’t keep Chad from them forever. He’d hoped the detox of negative influences would do Chad good, but Romeo couldn’t protect Chad from himself and whatever thoughts and memories swirled in his mind.

He zoned out to them, but usually a snap of his name brought him back to Romeo, startled and apologetic.

Chad paced at odd hours, and if Romeo wasn’t careful, he lost sight of him, having woken to an empty bed as least once a night. There were bags beneath Chad’s eyes, and he walked around with a slumped posture. If Romeo had to describe it, he would’ve said Chad looked defeated.

Romeo’s gut knotted and he hesitated on the top step. He took a deep breath. They had been defeated. Vincent Whitehall had beaten them in his twisted game and had taken from Chad. He’d taken the detective away from him, and Chad looked lost knowing that part of himself was gone.

He’d never be a detective again.

Romeo should’ve realized a serial killer of Vincent Whitehall’s caliber would have an ace up his sleeve, he was the gold standard and had proved it to his last breath.

Romeo should’ve known.

Like he should’ve known about the magpies.

He had failed to protect Chad, and he’d failed to protect them too.

Mercutio waited for him by the front door.

“Good boy,” Romeo touched his head, then opened the side door into the cottage. The smell of roasting potatoes wrapped around them.

It was open plan.

Cozy, the ad had described it as, which meant small but clean and well kept.

Over the kitchen counter, Romeo saw Chad crashed out on the corner sofa. He lay on his side, with one hand beneath his cheek and the other curled towards his chest clutching the TV remote.

His skin was pale, except for the purplish tint beneath his shut eyes.

Romeo slipped off his shoes and checked the oven. He grabbed the oven mitts, gave the pan inside a quick shake, then shut the door on the potatoes. The tinfoil covered beef was resting on the side, and a fresh salsa Romeo had prepared waited in the fridge.

At some point, he’d started to enjoy cooking. He hadn’t before. Before he made food with no passion, needing only to fuel his body for the next day, but with Chad, he started to like it, love it even. It was homey and domestic and not influenced by the dark thoughts in his head. It was more than a hobby, and it helped that he was good at it. With their situation, he couldn't be the one with the stable job who provided for them, but he could take care of Chad and be the best house husband possible.

He smiled at the term. House husband.

Romeo crossed the room to get to Chad. He pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa and lay it on Chad before slipping the TV remote from his lax hand and placing it on the coffee table.

Mercutio dropped his ball to whine softly.

“I know,” Romeo whispered. “But he’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

They would be okay. Romeo knew it like he knew the sun would rise the next morning.

He ran his hand through Chad’s brown hair, then stroked the back of his fingers against his cheek. His skin, although pale, held the heat of fever. Chad didn’t wake, but he did let out a deep sigh at the touch.

“You keep him company,” Romeo said, patting the sofa for Mercutio. “While I cut the beef.”

Mercutio clambered up and settled behind Chad’s bent knees with his chin on Chad’s thigh. He watched Romeo in the kitchen, licking his lips every so often like he assumed the beef was for him, and him alone.

Chad stirred a short while later, groaning as he rubbed his fingers into his eyes.

He paused and looked over to Romeo. Chad’s eyes were vacant, lost for a moment, then he threw himself upright.

“Shit,” he said, slapping his palm to his forehead. “I was supposed to shake the potatoes.”

Romeo smiled softly at him. “It’s okay, a few crunchy edges but it should be fine.”

“Damn it,” Chad pushed to his feet. He swayed slightly but quickly found his balance. “I’m sorry, Romeo.”

“It’s fine.”

Chad padded closer. His eyes were red, and when he spoke, his voice seemed extra nasally.

“I can’t believe you managed to get a cold out here.”

“Ally’s got one,” Chad grunted. “Must’ve got it from her before we left.”

“You hungry?”

Chad hesitated. “A little.”

Romeo nodded. Chad wasn’t off his food as such—he still ate, but there were more and more leftovers for Mercutio each day. Before they’d set off for the cottage, Chad had thought ahead and gone to the pharmacy to buy some cold and flu capsules at the first hint of illness. Romeo had hoped he’d get better by the time they had to return home, but it had lingered in Chad’s system until the last day.

“It smells amazing.” Chad said, coming up behind Romeo and slipping his arms around his middle.

Romeo snorted. “And by it do you mean me?”

“I mean your delicious beef.”

“Still talking about me, right?”

Chad groaned as he pressed his face between Romeo’s shoulder blades. He exhaled, and Romeo felt the warm puff of air through his t-shirt. “I’m sorry I forgot about the potatoes.”

“I said it was fine.”

“But I shouldn’t have—”

“Chad. You’re ill. You’re exhausted. The only way I’d be mad is if you left them so long, they burned the place down and I had to battle through fire to save you.”

Chad smirked. “You would, though.”

“I would.” Romeo put the knife down then turned in Chad’s arms. He knocked his knuckles to Chad’s chin. “Damn right I would, but I’d be angry.”

Chad hummed. “Angry Romeo is hot Romeo.”

“Am I not hot all the time?”

“Of course, but the added angry edge does things to me.” Chad lifted onto tiptoes to press his lips to Romeo’s. Romeo didn’t reciprocate. He could’ve easily kissed him back and they would’ve ended up in the bedroom, but he didn’t.

Chad pouted in disappointment.

“You’re ill.”

Chad rolled his eyes. “Like that’s the reason.”

“It is.”

“You don’t want the beef to go bad.”

Romeo froze. Chad raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Well, it is at the perfect temperature. It won’t taste as good after being refrigerated or microwaved, and I’m not leaving it out on the side,” he glanced back to glare at Mercutio. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Mercutio hung his head.

“You’re picking this beef over my beef.” Chad said with a sparkle in his eyes.

Romeo’s breath caught.

It seemed an age since Chad had looked at him like that.

The coil in his gut relaxed a little, and before Chad could question his pause, Romeo smiled, and replied, “Now who’s using the awful beef innuendo?”

Chad laughed and pressed his body flush with Romeo. Romeo wrapped his arms around his back, squeezing him tight. They hugged, and just like the last few times they had hugged, it felt momentous. It felt like Chad was clinging on, and no matter how much Romeo tightened his hold, it didn’t seem enough to make the man in his arms feel secure.

“Now,” Romeo murmured, loosening his grip. “Come eat what your house husband has prepared for you.”

Chad’s eyebrows met his hairline. “House husband?”

****

A shrill whine cut through the night.

Romeo’s eyes snapped open, and it took a few seconds to remember they weren’t at home. Chad wasn’t beside him in bed. The duvet cover was folded from where he’d left Romeo sleeping alone.

Romeo brushed his hand against the mattress, gut tightening when he found it cool to the touch.

He sat up, glancing at the bathroom, but no light shone around the door. Once he’d found Chad asleep propped against the side of the bath, another time, crashed out on the sofa, and a third time he’d been restless pacing just outside the cottage.

Romeo pulled the duvet off himself, leaving it folded over like on Chad’s side.

“Chad?”

There was no answer, just another shrill whine coming from the living room. Chad had left the door open, and Romeo tugged on a t-shirt as he stepped out. The lights were off, other than the standby button and the oven’s setting screen, but they’d left the curtains open, allowing a small amount of moonlight to illuminate the space. Mercutio sat in front of the sliding doors that led to the balcony.

He looked at Romeo, and his harsh whimper made Romeo wince.

Romeo stepped across the room barefoot with his gaze locked to the glass doors. Chad stood on the other side, pressed against the railing. The full moon acted as the only source of light, and it was enough that Romeo could see he was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt, just like Romeo.

“Stay,” Romeo said firmly, not even making eye contact with Mercutio. He slid the door open, then closed it behind himself.

The wind howled and seemed to push and pull in every direction. Rain pelted down and the waves below crashed, slapping against rock and pulling at the stray stones.

Chad was still.

Romeo doubted he had heard the door opening and closing behind him.

Both of Chad’s hands were curled over the railing, holding on, and he stared straight ahead.

“Hey,” Romeo said softly as he approached. When he got close enough, he touched Chad’s waist before slipping his hand around Chad’s middle. Romeo did the same on Chad’s other side until he could fold his arms across Chad’s front. He curled forward slightly to rest his chin on Chad’s shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Chad shook his head, then turned to rest his cheek against Romeo’s.

“It’s cold out here,” Romeo murmured.

He’d only been out there thirty seconds, but he could tell Chad had been there a lot longer by how cold he felt. Goosebumps covered Chad’s arms, and his neck, too, where Romeo lay a kiss as he leaned back. Chad’s t-shirt was soaked from the rain and the sea water spraying up at him, but he didn’t shiver.

“Is it Lucinda?”

Chad didn’t answer.

For every good moment, a bad one followed. They’d eaten that day, teasing each other and acting like themselves, Chad and Romeo, but Romeo knew Chad’s mental state would dip again.

Romeo understood failure, disappointment, even anger at being bested by Vincent Whitehall. He had experienced loss—although not in the same way Chad had the detective torn from him—but he understood the hollowness it invoked.

What Romeo struggled to identify with was the guilt. Chad had killed someone. Someone who in Chad’s eyes didn’t deserve it. There was no black and white for Romeo, there was only grey. Everyone and no one deserved to be his victim. He didn’t have bias, although there were a few people on his list he thought would feel particularly satisfying to kill.

Romeo didn’t understand guilt. Ally and Josh helped Chad with that particular demon, but they were hundreds of miles away.

“Want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Chad replied in a whisper. “I couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

There was more, Romeo knew there was more by the tremble in Chad’s voice.

“And you came out here because...?”

Chad stiffened. Romeo kissed the notches of spine in his neck until he relaxed again.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

It wasn’t enough of an answer for Romeo, but he didn’t push for more.

Chad slumped. “And I was resisting the urge to check my phone.”

“Ah,” Romeo hummed.

It itched at Chad, not knowing what was being said about him.

“Did you resist?”

“Yes,” Chad lowered his head. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“You didn’t, although I wish you would when you can’t sleep. It was Mercutio who alerted me to you in distress.”

“I’m not distressed.”

“It’s cold, it’s wet, the wind is battering you from every direction and you’re standing in the dark in your boxer shorts and a thin t-shirt.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m distressed,” Chad argued. He glanced back to meet Romeo’s eyes. “It just means I’m weird.”

“Well, I’d prefer to take your weirdness inside if that’s all right with you.”

Chad pouted. “Well, actually—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He pulled Chad around the middle and there was a moment he resisted, a moment he gripped the railing tighter and Romeo’s heart skipped at the jolt. Then Chad let go, and he allowed Romeo to pull him away from the edge.

Romeo kept a tight hold on one of Chad’s arms as he slid the door open and led him inside. He turned on a lamp, still gripping onto Chad.

Mercutio barked, and Chad’s eyes snapped to him.

“Hey,” Chad said softly, crouching down. Romeo released Chad’s arm but hovered above him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Chad pet Mercutio on the head. “I didn’t want you to get cold and wet.”

“What about yourself?” Romeo said.

As if a switch had been flicked, Chad looked down at his damp t-shirt and shivered. “It didn’t feel so bad when I was out there.”

Romeo hummed, unconvinced. “Back to bed. I’ll warm you up.”

“I won’t be able to sleep.”

“But you are tired...”

Chad lowered his gaze instead of replying.

“Let me relax you.”

“I don’t have the energy for—”

“Let me,” Romeo said slowly. “Relax you. I’ll take control. I’ll make you feel good. All you have to do is lay back and enjoy it.”

Chad got back to his feet. Romeo snatched up his hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed the back of it before lacing their fingers together.

“I want to take care of you.” Romeo’s eyes burned into Chad’s. “ Please let me.”