Page 69 of The Death Wish

‘No,’ Edward said with conviction. ‘Not as things are. But that may change.’

His gaze moved between Silas and Pitch, pausing there on the daemon; as though he could not quite believe his eyes.

‘Are you well, Edward?’ Silas pressed.

He laughed, a good sign in itself, but it was none too hearty. ‘As well as can be expected. I’ll be grateful for the end of this journey. And it is close.’

He reached into the pocket of his heavy wool coat; the fit was much too large and swamped his frame, a high collar reachingabove his jawline, as though to swallow him. Despite the thickness, Edward shivered. He withdrew an item Silas thought he’d seen the last of.

Pitch groaned. ‘That bloody watch.’

It was indeed the pendant watch. The one that had been in so many important hands: passed from Edward to Pitch, a lover’s gift, from Seraphiel to Lucifer, a dying angel’s secret, and finally from Lucifer to Pitch, a talisman that had ignited a spark Silas still struggled to understand. The watch had somehow made Edward a prophet of the Serahp; and seemed to have brought to life the angel who had been thought long-dead. But were they dealing with remnant power from Seraphiel, or true resurrection?

‘I need to pay the fare,’ Edward grunted as Charlie helped him to his feet. ‘Then we can move on.’

‘The fare? To whom?’ Pitch said.

‘The ferryman.’ Edward stepped into the water, not bothering to remove his shoes, nor roll up his trousers. Charlie went with him, muttering about the cold being the last thing Edward needed, but the lieutenant paid him little heed. He held out the watch, as though he meant to drop it into the water. ‘I hail ye, ferryman. And bid you, tell me, what price shall I pay?’

Pitch and Silas glanced at one another. ‘Has his mind finally come undone?’ Pitch whispered.

The boat appeared before Silas could offer a reply.

Not there, in one blink, and there upon the water, in the next.

A simple craft, not much more considerable than a row boat, and just as open to the elements. The wood was plain, a brown that appeared ever duller in contrast to the golden elements of the chamber, and greatly at odds with the singular passenger it carried.

They stood at the bow, holding a long, curved staff which held a glowing lantern above their head. The passenger was cladin armour; the pounded metal sheets of a by-gone day. The silver grey did not reflect the glow of the lantern, even though that light was bright enough to make Silas squint.

‘Gods,’ Pitch breathed.

And Silas saw his mistake. It was not simply the lantern that glowed.

Edward was radiant. In the way that Pitch was when the flame hinted beneath his skin. But where the daemon’s light held all the hues of fire, Edward gleamed gold: of wheat fields under a summer sun, and the grandest crown of monarchy polished to perfection.

Charlie raised his hand to shield his eyes, and Scarlet, seated as they preferred upon Pitch’s shoulder, made a quite sound of awe, their own colours subdued.

‘Do you have the fare?’ The ferryman’s voice caught Silas off-guard. Not a man at all, but a woman of melodic voice was hidden behind the grill of the face-plate.

‘I have the fare.’ Edward still held the watch raised, its pewter darkening against the glow of his skin.

‘A single coin shall pay your way. Do you have that coin?’

‘I have the fare.’ Edward repeated, and there was a sense of rhythm to the exchange, like the unlocking of a vault by way of voice, rather than key.

Edward turned the watch over, and placing it on his flattened palm. He touched at it and a soft click preceded the unlocking of a clasp; and the lifting of the rounded back on a hinge. Edward drew forth a gleaming gold coin, one nearly as wide in circumference as the watch itself. He held it aloft.

The coin shone like a piece of the sun. And the water frothed where Edward and Charlie stood. Silas edged closer, fearing the water’s violence.

Pitch held him back. ‘Let them see it through.’

Silas waited, and watched.

The boat drew closer, ever silent. The armour-clad ferryman still held their staff, still rested their foot upon the bow; the armoured footwear held an exaggerated point at the toes.

Edward stepped forward, pressing Charlie back with his free hand when the lad sought to follow. Silas dashed forward, despite Pitch’s hiss of annoyance, and pulled Charlie back to the shore.

The lieutenant took only a few steps, and halted when the water reached his knees. The frothing and bubbling remained at a simmer, no worse, whilst Edward held out the coin.