Page 78 of The Death Wish

‘I could manage him. Careful of his arm, slow down!’ The lad buzzed about him like an irritating fly, moving hanging limbs, adjusting the lieutenant’s shirt when his position bunched it at his chin. ‘Let me fix it, he won’t be able to breath.’

Pitch knew his eyes aglow, and gave no shits at all. Charlie did not frighten easily. ‘Get out of the way.’ He stepped one foot on the edge, calculating the depth. Not substantial; he knew that from Silas already being in the water. But the ankou was so blasted big, Pitch might end up submerged if he assumed things, and there was the milkiness of the water to contend with. The bottom was entirely hidden.

‘It is shallow.’ Silas stood just shy of knee deep. The ankou had not hesitated to leap overboard. Brave bastard he was now.

‘Watch his head.’ Charlie was not to be satisfied. ‘Don’t let it loll about like that, damn you.’

‘You’ve met your match in coddling, Silas.’ Pitch elbowed the lad out of the way, lifting Edward at an angle, so could see where his feet would tread. ‘Tend to Lucifer, Charlie. And leave me be.’

‘Don’t jump from the boat, Tobias. No! Don’t you dare.’

Pitch jumped. Hardly an Olympic effort, and more of a long, reaching step. One steadied by Silas’s hands at the small of his back.

‘I’m fine,’ Pitch said, more sharply than Silas deserved. ‘Help Charlie.’

The ankou did, as so often, what Pitch asked, and turned back to the king and the lad.

The water was warm as shallows in summer, and moved more languidly than true water should. Underfoot, the ground was pliant as damp sand, but crunched, oddly, like eggshells.

‘Gods, you are such a fool, man,’ Pitch whispered to the silent lieutenant. ‘You would not be here if you were not so determined to make a friend of me. You would be no one’s puppet, and I’d not feel sick with guilt every time I laid eyes on you. Whatever form he takes, Seraphiel is not worthy of you.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry this happened to you all.’

Edward opened his eyes, mere cracks, through which only reassuring grey was evident. No angelfire. No intrusion. ‘This is not your fault.’ His lips were cracked, a tiny bubble of blood upon the bottom. ‘You do not need anyone’s forgiveness, least of all mine. I love you, Tobias. You are and will always be, my friend. And I have no regrets. None.’

‘You are mad.’

‘I think I can be forgiven for that.’

Pitch gave him a placating nod. ‘I’ll allow it, considering.’

Edward’s smile had always been a sweet thing to see, and this was no different now, even as Pitch worried it might be among the man’s last. ‘How charitable of you.’

Laughter, it turned out, was beyond a beleaguered prophet. Edward convulsed, fresh blood striking beneath Pitch’s chin.

‘Shit, Edward? Gods, Edward, can you hear me?’

‘What’s wrong?’ Charlie called. ‘Pitch, is he alright?’

Edward’s convulsions strengthened, and he jerked in Pitch’s hold. His eyes returned to rolling in his head, a horrid gurgling coming from him. Twice Pitch was struck in the face, and once he nearly lost his footing altogether when a spasm coincided with him stepping into a hidden divot in the soft, gritty sand.

The churning of water behind announced the rush forward of the ankou.

‘Silas, is he…gods, tell me he is not…’

A shake of the head sent dark curls shifting. ‘He is not dying, Pitch. I’m not sure what this is, but it is not death.’ He turned. ‘Ferryman, where is the path.’ Silas made a sound of annoyance. ‘That bastard. He’s left us. Do you know the way, Pitch?’

There was nothing but genuine enquiry in his tone, but nevertheless Pitch snapped at him. ‘No. I don’t know the fucking way. I wasn’t exactly let out to take strolls.’

A heavy hand laid on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me.’ Of course Pitch did. None of that, nor this, was Silas’s fault. ‘We will find our way.’

Edward had stilled, his hands curled beneath his chin, his face a terrible shade of grey. But he breathed. Pitch could hear him rasping.

They emerged from the water.

‘It is strange, is it not,’ Pitch said. ‘How close you and I might have been here at times.’

‘No so close as we are now.’ Silas slipped an arm around him, escorting him up onto the narrow sliver of beach. ‘Do you suppose it coincidence, or divine purpose, that led the goddess to choose me from a loch so near to a Seraph’s Sanctuary?’

Pitch stared at the tangle of slender young trees up ahead, pondering the question. ‘I’m not sure how long the Sanctuary has existed, but I don’t think it coincidence, no. It is more likely that this place holds some power.’