Page 18 of The Fulbourn: Pitch & Sickle

She nodded, so hard she was in danger of losing her pearl earrings. Her drink sloshed over the sides of her glass as she lifted it too quickly to her lips. Daphne giggled at the damp spots she’d made on her satin bodice. Once, Pitch might have decided her a worthwhile target for an enchantment. Already half-gone, it would be an easy slide into the bedroom. But instead he just found her irritating and was ready to shove her aside if it looked like she’d stain his dress with her carelessness. The crowd was bothering him, the air a fraction too stifling, and he was surprised to realise he did not wish to be here at all. But be here he must, for a while longer at least. Clearly, he needed more than the champagne to make it endurable.

Perhaps this woman could be useful after all.

‘I say, might you know of where I could find something more…’ He indicated his glass. ‘More stimulating than this, shall we say?’ Pitch wiped a crooked finger slowly beneath his nose, hoping she was not too inebriated to read the signal.

Wide pupils widening further, the woman nodded heartily. ‘Oh my dear, of course. Come, come. I’ve some in my purse. Let us go to the powder room.’

Daphne linked her arm through Pitch’s and led them through into the sitting room. It was almost as busy as the parlour, but thankfully with this woman at the helm there was very little pause in their journey. Evidently, she was very eager to share her tincture. She kept him on a firm path, dragging him along as his hip slowed him, moving too quickly for anyone to think of interrupting them.

They were a step shy of reaching the open doorway that led out into the hallway when someone passed by in the corridor. Pitch nearly tripped over his own feet. Not because he was partly invalid, but because the man he’d seen was very familiar.

‘Everything all right?’ The woman patted his gloved hand.

‘Yes, yes, of course. Just a little tired.’ Down to the very bone at times.

‘Well, we shall soon fix that.’ His guide grinned. ‘Can’t have you leaving the party too soon. I’ve a nephew arriving shortly who you really must meet. He is a delight, and terribly good company.’

Of course he was. Pitch might have been more irritated discovering the woman’s friendliness reeked of ulterior motives were he not trying to decide if he should disappear back into the parlour or call out to the man who was striding down the hall, the oil on his bald head shining beneath the gaslights.

‘There, there, my dear.’ The woman patted his hand a second time, and Pitch considered stepping very hard on her toes. ‘You must have seen Orientals in the United States, surely? Aren’t they just dreadfully exotic and wonderful? Not as wonderful as my nephew, mind.’

Sweet gods. He was scowling deeply before he remembered he was a godsdamned lady.

‘They are precious, aren’t they?’ He smoothed his features. ‘But it’s not that. He seems familiar, that’s all.’

‘Oh, should we call out to him? Here, I’ll do it.’ Daphne had best have the world’s most sublime cocaine because she was testing his patience truly. ‘Yoohoo! You there…stop where you are.’

The man did as he was ordered, but not with any happiness. He grunted and turned on his heels, clearly annoyed at having his journey interrupted.

That pockmarked face, flat cheeks, and all-too-familiar scowl could belong to none other than Kaneko, The Atlas’s insufferable bartender.

Pitch’s breath caught. Lady Satine’s elixir was about to be much tested.

‘How can I help you?’ Kaneko demanded, hands clasped behind his back.

A good thing Kaneko’s skills in The Atlas kitchen were above reproach because he was abysmal when it came to being pleasant company. He barely glanced at Daphne’s companion, and when he did, seemed utterly disinterested in the vision of loveliness that Pitch was. Barely spared him a blink. Mildly insulting, but pleasing. Pitch knew the hues of his aura were rather unique, patchwork and drained as they were. If they had been visible to the tsukumogami, he doubted Kaneko would have shown no sign of seeing it.

Pitchwasfucking invisible. He could barely stifle his grin.

‘Dear me, no need to be so rude,’ Daphne declared.

‘I’m not a servant, if that’s what you are thinking.’ Kaneko turned side on, readying to leave. ‘Just delivering canapes for the lady of the house, and I’m late back to where I need to be. So, good evening to you, ladies.’ He managed to roll the word like gristle between his teeth.

‘Wait, it’s just that –’

Pitch stayed Daphne with a light touch. ‘Never mind. It’s not who I thought. Let the man go.’

But the man was already going. Kaneko was not waiting for any permission. Pitch watched him stalk away. He had a faint recollection of hearing that Kaneko’s services were in demand outside of The Atlas. He’d probably catered more than a few of the parties Pitch had attended over the past year, but as the tsukumogami was a master of savoury treats and not sweet, Pitch had little reason to pay his skills any mind.

‘Goodness, he wasn’t interested in a chat, was he?’ Daphne said.

‘Just as well.’ Pitch touched at his curls. ‘I’m rather keen to take what you offered.’ He tried for a conspiratorial grin. ‘Shall we have that tincture now?’

Daphne returned his smile tenfold. ‘Oh yes, let’s do. Superb mix this one. Wonderful stuff. You’ll not know yourself afterwards.’

Pitch could only hope.

CHAPTER SIX