Page 99 of The Death Wish

‘It shall not last long.’ Jacquetta stepped back. ‘And you can go no further or wider than the house. It takes too much of my magick for that, and I’ll be needing to reinforce the Sanctuary boundaries now you’re all in. Just touch the glass to show it where you want to go, and two taps to draw you in closer. Think of it like a flat out telescope. Alright then?’

Silas mumbled a reply, fixated on the mirrors. Charlie pulled Edward in closer. And Jacquetta left them with a subtle rattling of the trolley.

‘I haven’t used a telescope,’ Charlie said. ‘What does it do?’

‘Makes the world smaller and closer.’ Edward nudged Charlie. ‘Go on then. Show me your favourite place in that wonderful garden. Your gardener is truly talented.’

Charlie lifted his hand, hovering his finger above the glass. But did not move to touch it.

‘Is something wrong?’ Edward asked.

‘The garden is lovely, our family’s pride and joy…and I know I said I’d like you to visit…but…’ Charlie’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

‘You fled your home for good reason,’ Silas said, softly. ‘You were not happy there. If it troubles you, we need not look at all.’

He did not know which way he hoped the lad’s choice would go. Silas himself was torn about what a closer study of the estate would do to his own state of mind; already punched full of holesof worry and trepidation. And this was, as Jacquetta had said, a mere distraction. But he wasn’t sure he wished to be distracted from the thought of what Pitch endured in that moment.

Charlie shook his shoulders, a firmly exaggerated motion, and blew out a breath. ‘Bloody hell, I’m being ridiculous. After all we’ve been through, and I’m frightened I might lay eyes upon my father?’

Edward settled a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. ‘I’m not sure it’s foolish at all. If this were my mother’s home, I’d have this mirror turned to the wall in a heartbeat.’ He shook his head. ‘She’d have a row of potential brides lined up for my return, and my trunks packed for the blasted honeymoon.’

Charlie laughed, and Silas smiled, but he’d never felt less amused. He’d spotted the long length of the jetty in the mirror’s right-hand pane, reaching like a long grey finger to point towards him. As though it sensed him there. Of all he had forgotten, he wished the memory of his death at that jetty–his last, he presumed–was not among them.

‘Well, she shall have to keep waiting, and you do not have need of a bride,’ Charlie said, firmly, returned to his more robust self. ‘Perhaps if we flatter her cooking enough, Jacquetta will let us stay here.’ He glanced up at the lieutenant. ‘How does that sound?’

Their shared glance felt a very private thing, and Silas looked away. Back to where the loch and all its hidden history taunted.

‘That sounds bloody marvellous,’ Edward said. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about that world out there anymore. Or where my place in it is.’

Not an unreasonable statement, but Silas shook his head.

‘You have a place there, Edward. You too, Charlie,’ he said. ‘And as soon as I am able, I’ll see that you find it. Once you do, relish every moment that life affords you.’

He touched the mirror and ran his finger over the jetty; where his moments had once ended.

The focus drew in. Like they watched from the back of a seabird gliding over the water; soaring over the slight turbulence in the waves and stretching up and over the jetty.

Such a simple thing. A coat of white paint was evidenced only by the patchwork of flakes that remained. There was some rot along the edges at the end, and a pile of fishing nets, tangled and long past their days of being used. Peeking from beneath them was the flattened end of an oar.

Silas drew in his breath, the horrific memory striking like a hot poker. When Nemain had held him down in the greensward, much had been forced to the surface; none of it pleasant.

He’d met one of his ends here. Upon this very jetty: struck with an oar, his brother screaming at him. Cain. That had been brother’s name, in the beginning at least. Perhaps endless lives had seen it changed, but Cain’s rage never altered.

You’ve ruined us all, you bastard.He had been livid, drunk beyond measure, beating Silas until he could barely stand. Accusing him of causing their family’s undoing. An affair. With a son of Rossdhu House.I told you it would ruin our family to bend for the likes of him. Too busy thinking with your prick. Now the lord’s son is dead, and he has lost his mind with the grief. You’ve made our family homeless, you selfish cunt. We are to be cast out.

Terrible accusations made all the worse for Silas not being able to remember a single moment. Had he loved the lord’s son as he loved Pitch? Had his grief at the man’s loss brought wails of anguish and unending rage that terrified even the most vile monsters of the world, as it would if he lost Pitch?

On that jetty, Silas had faced yet another demise at the hands of his sibling, and another hopeless attempt by a young man to save him. He’d not seen the lad’s eyes, but he knew them blue;another from the long line of would-be saviours and guardians of the bandalore, from whence Charlie came.

‘Silas?’ Charlie stirred him from his deepness of thought. ‘You look terribly sad. Is there something you recall from your time at Rossdhu?’

Silas scratched at his beard, bringing himself back to the most important of places. Here and now.

‘I don’t suppose you ever heard tell of a death…a drowning, perhaps…by that jetty?’

Silas readied for a rejection.

‘Yes. But not just a simple drowning. There have always been whispers of a murder.’