Page 156 of The Death Wish

‘Yes, I know. They are a little wilted,’ Enoch said, brown eyes warm as hot chocolate. Silas blinked. Christ, he could read minds? ‘And no, I cannot read your mind. You have your privacy here. I am merely very good at deciphering expressions.’

Silas kept his gaze fixed on the flowers. Not roses, but vaguely rose-like, with their pink petals contrasting with hearts of yellow pollen bobbing on long, black stems.

‘They are…’ he didn’t mean to hesitate, but it was all a bit too much.

‘Beautiful, they are beautiful, Silas,’ Pitch said firmly.

‘Of course, yes, yes. Superb.’

Enoch laughed, right from deep in his belly, and there again was that smile. Silas relaxed, if only a little, and made his way back to Pitch’s side.

‘I’m told you adore the garden, so I thought flowers a suitable welcome gift.’

Just as soon as the lord put him at ease, he shifted Silas off-balance again. Who would have told him such things? And why the blazes would Enoch remember such a triviality?

‘Yes, my lord. I do love the garden, well, nature in general, I think.’ Silas’s tongue was like a spooked horse, racing away from him. ‘I certainly feel most at ease amongst the foliage, with the ground beneath my feet. I can see you share my affinity for the soil. Nothing like dirt under the nails. I think perhaps, at some point, I was a gardener.’ Pitch elbowed his leg. And it was only then that Silas took a breath. ‘Forgive me, I am quite nervous, and talking far too much. I didn’t mean to insult you…about the dirt…if it’s dirt…it could be anything, I suppose.’

Pitch groaned. ‘Silas…stop.’

‘Sorry.’ Silas clutched the bouquet so hard, it was a wonder the stems did not snap.

‘You apologise a lot, don’t you? They said that of you, too. But they also said you usually had nothing to apologise for, and were a decent, affable man. I quite agree.’ Enoch turned his head. ‘Why don’t you come out, little one? I truly doubt Vassago will be angry with you for waking him. Both he and Mr Mercer shall have plenty of time to rest and recover. We won’t keep them too much longer.’

For a moment, it seemed he’d spoken to thin air. Then a small sunrise peeked through the wild curls of his hair; apricots and strawberry hues, and a rounded pair of black, unblinking eyes.

‘Scarlet.’ Silas’s voice cracked. ‘Oh my god, look Pitch.’

The wisp darted out of their hairy hiding place, whipping towards Silas with a speed that blew Lord Enoch’s hair wide. Scarlet filled the air with their wondrous, happy colours, chittering madly, with arms outstretched, as though the tiny creature thought to hug him. Instead, they flattened themselves against his cheek, nuzzling and cheeping. Silas laughed against the vibrations of the wisp.

Scarlet buzzed away, a spectrum of colours radiating now as they focused on Pitch. He was still kneeling, staring wide-eyed at the wisp.

‘Off your knees, Vassago,’ Enoch said. ‘And tell your friend they are quite forgiven for waking you. They’ve been most concerned about you both. It was no simple task keeping them out of here, and in the end, I just gave up.’

Silas watched Scarlet as they bobbed towards Pitch; the tiny critter whom the Lord of Arcadia had given in to. What in all the great confounding blazes was going on here?

Pitch rose to his feet and was bombarded. Scarlet went utterly mad with excitement around him: darting around his head, dashing into his hair and wriggling about like a chick caught in its nest.

‘Will you sit still, you bloody lunatic?’ Pitch shirked his shoulder, screwing up his face, as Scarlet played in his hair. But his eyes glittered, his smile a quirk at the edge of his lips. ‘My lord, how did they come to be here?’

‘They chose Arcadia as their reward for assisting me.’

‘Assisting you?’ Pitch bowed his head. ‘Begging your pardon, my lord, but how did a wisp assist you?’

Silas was bemused by Pitch’s unfamiliar formality. This was such an unexpected day in so many ways. And likely not done with its surprises.

‘In the way small things often do. Scarlet has been most gracious in allowing me to use them, so I might have my eyes and ears upon you.’

‘You watched us?’ Pitch’s reply was far less acquiescent than the last. ‘Through the wisp?’

‘Yes.’

Silas’s pleasant mood slipped.

‘For how long?’ Pitch did not quite demand an answer. He was close, though.

‘How long have you known the wisp?’

Pitch took a step back, his hands clenched. ‘You watched us all this time?’