Page 15 of The Death Wish

Billy gasped.

Silas stepped forward, fighting off the lingering dizziness. ‘Pitch, best you don’t –’

‘Here, you must try this.’ Pitch saved Silas from having to stagger across the room, rushing towards him, smiling his cream-speckled smile, with an air of delight and happiness that stung Silas’s eyes to see. Tiredness made his tears far too ready.

Pitch lifted the pie and its accompanying dollop of cream, towards Silas’s mouth.

‘Lean down, will you? You fucked me too tired to lift my arms any higher. I know you are not overly fond of sugar, but you’ll try it for me, won’t you?’

Silas obliged with parted lips and a stoop of his shoulders. The room shrunk till there seemed only the pair of them. Pitch licked his lips as he watched Silas eat.

‘Wonderful?’ he whispered.

‘Wonderful.’ In truth, he couldn’t taste much at all, a hint of vanilla perhaps, but little more. It had been the same for some of the dried meat Tyvain had produced on the ride. Silas’s sense of taste seemed as tired as he was.

There was movement around them: the slide of the pie tin as Samuel cut it into generous slices, the bustle of Billy as they gathered up Pitch’s bright pink cloak and the dreary brown wool cape Isaac had passed to Silas.

Pitch was grinning, ready with another piece to share; their bodies touching, the daemon’s heat strong enough that, if they weren’t careful, the others in the room might notice.

‘Well then,’ Samuel cleared his throat. ‘We shall leave you be. And you be sure to let me know if you’d like anything else from the kitchen. I’ve heard you are partial to a strawberry, and I’m certain I have preserves stashed in the cellar. I’ll see if I can find them to make some tartlets.’

Silas grabbed at Pitch as he went into something of a swoon. ‘Did you hear that, Silas?’

‘I did,’ he chuckled. ‘You are a saint among men, Samuel.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that.’ The man smiled, clearly pleased at the flattery. ‘The hot water is ready for you, there’s some cloths just over there. A bar of soap if you’re that way inclined.’

Silas dragged his gaze from Pitch’s face just long enough to give the man a thankful nod. ‘Your hospitality is very much appreciated.’

‘Leave a spoon with the pie if you will.’ Pitch brushed the remaining morsel he held against Silas’s lips. He had his back toSamuel and showed no sign of altering that, nestled in against Silas as he was.

Samuel’s gaze softened as he lingered by the doorway. ‘Seems you’ve been through some things, all of you. I hear tell the rest of your party is at the Golden Rule?’

‘Clearly these gentlemen have far better taste, staying with us,’ Billy re-entered the room, arms laden with clothes. ‘But these were sent over from there about a half hour ago, I almost forgot.’ They held a white shirt to their nose. ‘The most pleasing scent of jasmine is upon all of them. Must ask the laundress at the Rule if she’ll share her secret with us. The messenger said to send apologies to Mr Mercer for the fit but it’s the best they can do until tomorrow, when the tailor opens his store again.’ They exchanged a glance with Samuel. ‘But I heard Roy was there for lunch today…settled in early…which doesn’t bode well for him being up before noon tomorrow.’

‘We’ll get you sorted, don’t you worry.’ Samuel picked up the empty basket and beckoned Billy. ‘Come on now, let’s give them their space back. Good evening, gentlemen. Hope you enjoy your stay…’ His gaze flicked to the discarded, mucky boots. ‘And find some rest from whatever troubles ail you.’

Silas swallowed his mouthful of pie. ‘Thank you. How is Herbert doing with both horses? They are not giving him any trouble, I hope?’

‘Our boy has a way with the animals.’ Samuel’s pride lifted his shoulders. ‘They couldn’t be in better hands. He’ll insist on staying with them all night now, and they so much as flick a tail in a manner he isn’t happy with, he’ll come running to get you. Don’t you worry.’

The pair left them, Samuel closing the door with a quiet click.

Pitch had been unusually quiet during the exchange, and made no move to rustle through the clothes Billy had placed on the armchair.

‘Everything all right, my love?’

Pitch leaned into him, stifling a yawn. ‘Fine, fine.’ He pressed a sticky finger against Silas’s lips until he obliged and sucked it clean. ‘But now I’ve had a taste of pie and drunk you dry, I can hardly keep my bloody eyes open. Which is infuriating, because I wouldn’t mind another round with you between my legs.’

‘Still famished then? I under-performed, it seems.’ He led him to the dresser where one large washbasin sat alongside a smaller one: porcelains of white and delicate blue respectively, both a little chipped, clearly well used.

Another yawn came. ‘I told you I would have room for more dessert, did I not?’

Silas pulled out the stool that had been set beside the dresser. ‘Here, come and sit your arse down, please.’

‘I’d prefer to have my arse up, where you can do your worst to it.’ But he obliged, sighing as he seated himself. ‘But my gods, I feel as though an elephant is draped over my shoulders.’

‘It’s not been an easy time. You need to rest.’