Page 13 of The Fulbourn: Pitch & Sickle

‘No.’ Lady Satine and Pitch were in unison.

‘You stand out a feckin’ mile, you daft cock.’ Tyvain lifted her chin to fiddle with the tiny pearl button right up under her chin. ‘You could ’ide your aura all you like, and chances are they’d still know the giant from the Order ’ad arrived.’

Silas despised her choice of words. ‘My lady, you yourself said he’s likely become even more of a target after…’ He faltered, glancing at Pitch, who was far too interested in the rich purple velvet of his sleeve. ‘Well, you are a master of disguise, are you not? Perhapsyoushould go?’

‘I’m quite busy on Tuesday nights, and I do recall just telling you that the elixir no longer works on me,’ Lady Satine said smoothly. ‘We’ll hire a purebred driver and carriage, but Isaac shall travel with him. There will be eyes in every fire in every hearth in the house –’

‘Would that not be noticeable…’ Silas said, ‘to those who know how to look?’

The Lady shook her head. ‘Highly unlikely. The elementals are changeable and unpredictable, like the elements they command. Trying to catch a glimpse of Isaac in a flicker of flame would be like trying to make out the patterns on a hummingbird’s wings as it flaps them.’

‘Unlikely is not impossible. I don’t like this plan at all.’ Silas balled his fists. ‘I should go too. I can wait in the carriage –’

‘You are not going, Silas.’ Lady Satine fixed him with a glare, and he shrank from his own protest like she’d doused him with cold water.

‘If you are as dreadful at cards as you are at billiards, my dear Silas,’ Pitch said, ‘then it is better for the Order’s coffers that you stay away.’

Silas was in too much of a mood to even dignify that with a response.

‘Now we should start thinking about what Tobias will wear,’ Lady Satine declared. ‘I must deal with your eyes as well. They can’t stay that shade. We’ll have you take the elixir early so as to ensure it is working. Be warned, it’s cold as ice and not very pleasant in the ear canal.’

Silas had been summarily dismissed. Like he was nothing more than a servant whose services were no longer required. He had no wish to be here a moment longer than need be. He turned and headed for the door, well aware that all eyes had shifted to him the moment he moved.

‘Mr Mercer?’ Lady Satine called. ‘Is everything all right? We’ll be serving dinner in a short while.’

‘Thank you but I’m not very hungry.’ He strode out of the room and made his way back towards the front door.

A sublime sound, a chorus in perfect unison, bloomed in his head. An ethereal tune that spoke of strength and fortitude, and a world of things beyond his understanding.

Angel.Valkyrie.

Sybilla entered, flicking the hood of her cloak from her head. Her short, tight stark-white curls seemed to glow in the gaslight. ‘Silas, it’s good to see you in one piece.’

His mood lifted to see the familiar face. ‘A pleasure to be in one. I didn’t realise you were around.’

Now he knew the angels at least, were not beyond his detection. Only the daemons apparently.

‘I wasn’t.’ Sybilla discarded her cloak. She tossed it towards the wall beneath the stairs. A panel in the wood swung open revealing a cavity with a neat line of hooks. The cloak flew of its own accord to settle upon the one nearest the door. ‘I’ve just returned from up Shrewsbury way. Gods, what I won’t do for a decent bath right now.’

She flicked her fingers, and the panel closed. Silas had never really stopped to wonder if the Valkyrie held any divine magick of her own. But of course she did. Pitch had said it was the gift of all angels. With only a select few, like Samyaza and Azazel, powerful enough to cultivate that magick in unique ways.

‘And did you have any luck finding the tosher on your travels?’ Silas was uncomfortable with remembering why Sybilla had set off to begin with. He had learned about the tosher in Shrewsbury paying good money for fresh dead through some rather unfortunate means. Silas had flown into a rage when he’d discovered a gravedigger in Bishop’s Castle digging up corpses, and the poor man had parted with the details in fear of his life. It was not Silas’s proudest moment.

‘I found our tosher, yes.’ Sybilla nodded, though did not look too pleased. ‘It was Old Bill Toggins. They dragged him out of a well about three days before I got there. He’d been buried not a day before I arrived.’ She sighed. ‘Locals weren’t saying much, too bloody scared, I’d wager. But I shared a few wines with a very chatty night flower one evening, and she’d been on her back for Old Bill a couple of times since he came into the money. He’d told her someone at Birmingham Medical School was paying the coin for corpses. Had a name too, but when I followed it up, no one had heard of the man. The secretary was most put out when she understood what I was investigating, and said I’d be better off sticking my nose in over Oxford or Cambridge way. Seemed to think there had been talk of coin being paid for body snatching for years at those universities.’

Silas lifted his shoulders, trying to shrug off the sickening feeling that came with hearing of the desecration of graves. ‘And did you find anything?’

‘I headed straight for London when I heard what had happened to you and Tobias.’ She touched his arm. ‘I am sorry I was not closer by, Silas. I hear you have endured a terrible time of it. You and Tobias both. Are you all right?’

‘It’s not pleasant to know that others wish you well and truly dead. And Pitch…what they did…’ He pressed his lips, taking a moment to stifle the rage that came with thinking of it. It was not his tale to tell. ‘We survived, but it was awful. And I’ve gained a few extra worries certainly…’

‘Here stands one of those worries, I’m afraid.’

Silas started. He’d not heard Pitch come up the hall behind him. The daemon leaned against the wall just a few paces away, arms folded, head tilted so that his hair fell in fetching gold-tinged waves across his cheek.

‘Well that is hardly a surprise.’ Sybilla’s smile was genuine. She pulled off her gloves, finger by finger. ‘I suspect you rather enjoy troubling our fair ankou, don’t you, Tobias?’

‘It is not so amusing as I expected,’ Pitch said quietly. ‘Will you come and have dinner, Silas? Your rumbling stomach will keep me awake all night otherwise.’