Page 70 of The Death Wish

The ferryman did not slow the boat, if they had the means to. No oars, nor sail assisted this captain. Charlie tried to wriggle from Silas’s grasp, fearing the lieutenant at risk of being run down.

‘Wait, one more moment,’ Silas whispered.

Edward raised his free hand, his fingernails incandescent. The boat slowed, its prow drifting until it was perfectly aligned with the lieutenant’s waiting hand. The bow nestled into his cupped hand, and the boat stopped, as though it had never moved at all.

The frothing of the waters extended to surround the boat, small waves chopping against the sides.

‘I have the fare,’ Edward said, once more, with hints of an echo upon his voice. He lifted the coin.

The ferryman bowed forward. Their armour made no sound, no rasp of metal, nor creak of joints.

‘The fare is duly paid.’ They took the coin. Their lantern flared, a blinding flash of gold that quickly dimmed. ‘I shall take you where you seek to go, your grace.’

The water returned to smooth and crystalline. All the radiance that had engulfed Edward vanished. He staggered, pressing both hands against the hull. There was no holding Charlie back this time, and he slipped from Silas’s hold. Withspeed as freakish as his strength, he caught the lieutenant before his arse had touched the water.

‘I’m all right, Charlie.’

‘Bullshit.’

Edward laughed weakly. ‘Everyone must get in the boat now.’

‘Fine, but you first. I want you out of this cold water.’ Charlie shifted his grip, seeking a hold beneath Edward’s arms so he might lift him. Silas had barely taken a step to assist when the ferrymann took control. They let go their staff, though it remained starkly upright, and grabbed Edward’s wrists, metal-clad fingers finding a hold, before lifting the lieutenant from the water.

‘Hey! What are you doing?’ Charlie cried. ‘Be gentle with him, he’s not well.’

The ferryman gave no indication they had heard, and lowered Edward onto the bench seat at the front of the boat, where he slumped forward with a groan. The boat did not rock as Charlie vaulted aboard, settling beside him.

‘Right, us next I suppose.’ Silas could not entirely chase away trepidation at boarding a boat. One that was not so very different from those he recalled on the loch.

He glanced back. Pitch stood with his head lowered, his hand upon his belly.

‘Pitch?’

‘The simurgh is restless, that’s all,’ Pitch said, without raising his head. ‘The ferryman addressed him as your grace. Did you hear?’

‘I did.’ Silas nodded. ‘What do you make of it?’

‘Nothing. Everything. I’m not sure I wish to know the answer.’ Pitch lifted his head, hints of ember glowed. ‘How will you fare, being on the water?’

‘Fine, fine.’

Pitch’s crooked smile was uncommonly gentle. ‘About as fine as I am with returning to the Sanctuary, I suspect.’

‘A reasonable deduction.’ Silas’s returned smile was not as steady as he would like.

Scarlet peeked from behind tangled waves of hair, waving at Silas as the prince stepped closer. ‘If you like I could use a little enchantment to distract you.’ Pitch’s wink made Silas’s pulse skip. Christ, it was tempting, but he shook his head.

‘I need no enchantment to be distracted by you. In fact, here, take this. Clothe yourself.’ He slipped off his black cape. Dirtied and ripped as it was, it was in far better condition than Pitch’s own clothing, which allowed much of his chest to show. ‘I’d not forgive myself if anything untoward happened because I was absorbed by lust.’

‘Lust?’ Pitch’s eyes widened, as he slipped the cloak over his narrow shoulders. It swamped him. ‘My dear fellow I had thought to enchant you with poetry, that is all. You speak as though I would suck you off in front of the other passengers.’

‘You would.’

Pitch smiled sweetly. ‘What a pleasure it is to be known.’

‘Will you lot hurry up,’ Charlie cried. ‘Or shall I come and carry that poor man myself?’

Thatpoor manwas one of the mightiest daemons in Arcadia. Though this was not his finest day. He was as Silas had first seen him. Leaned up against the rocks, eyes shut, his long legs gathered up, knees touching his chest. There was something inordinately child-like about his position.