Page 40 of The Herlequin: Pitch & Sickle 6

Bess flicked his fingers, and the steamer trunk slammed shut with all the finality of a sarcophagus. ‘She could not be spellbound and pass through the tunnel. Magick is alive. I would have known of its arrival, just as I did Ronin’s. But even if by some miracle they could manage such a feat, we are in my Sanctuary. There is no hiding nefarious magick in a place where I am privy to every crack and crevice. The Morrigan can send their rats, but there is a trap for each of them.’

‘Then why send the bloody plate at all?’ Pitch said. ‘Why not just a load of poison-encrusted tarts?’

Bess’s gaze darted to Ronin. ‘Because it would not likely kill you, as you’ve proved.’ Pitch was frighteningly unsure of that himself. ‘And they’d still not know where we were. Hotura’s death would not be immediate, as you can well see. Once she learned our location, there would be time to send word of it before she…’ Bess tugged at the frilled collar of his dress, his words fading.

Pitch had heard enough anyway. The tsukumogami had been on a one-way journey. He wiped his strawberry-tart-encrusted hand against his trousers.

Ronin groaned, and Bess hurried to his side, settling himself on the bed. He brushed back the damp black strands off the tsukumogami’s forehead. ‘I’ll do what I can for you, my friend. The angel will be here soon. She will take away your pain.’

‘And Hotura…’ Ronin rasped.

‘Of course.’

‘She’s not dead?’ Pitch glanced at the apron with all its shattered pieces.

‘No. I’ve done a terrible thing, to break her while she is in true form,’ Bess said, solemn and low. ‘I’ll not be so cruel as to leave her that way. Sybilla will aid me in finishing things properly.’

‘No choice, Bess.’ Ronin’s lips trembled, and blood peaked from their corners. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He was so pale as to be translucent. His veins stark. ‘I should never have allowed her in.’

‘No, you bloody well should not have.’ Pitch was desperately on edge, and unnecessarily cruel, he’d not deny.

Ronin jerked, lips tight. His fingers bent at excruciating angles. Bess fussed over him, whispering encouragement to hold on. Be strong. And when Ronin settled again, Bess turned on Pitch.

‘Since we are throwing blame about, how long have you known of a tsukumogami being amongst the Morrigan?’

The accusation stung. ‘Silas informed the Lady of it, he told me as much.’ Pitch hid behind Silas’s sensibility, cut by the cold way Old Bess regarded him. As though he were at fault for all that had happened. Despising the fact he could not decide if Bess was right or wrong. ‘The necromancer taunted us with it in the Fulbourn–’

‘Why the fuck was nothing said to me?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps it was. You are old–’

‘Fuck off, Astaroth. Why wouldyounot say anything?’ The heat grew behind Bess’s words.

‘Me? I’ve had other fucking things to preoccupy me, aside from filling you in on all the minute details.’

‘A minute detail that put every single soul in this house in danger, and is killing my friend.’ Bess’s voice was clenched between a wild whisper and a shout. He was being unreasonable, the accusations terribly misplaced, but Pitch understood the agonies that drove him on. He’d done his fair share of lashing out to soothe his own pain. ‘Why are you not gone from here, Tobias? You said you must go, then fucking go.’

He’d not expected the vitriol though. Pitch held so tight to the coat that the ribs of the corset bit deep.

‘Bess…’ Ronin lifted his hand, though it barely resembled one now with all its fingers contorted, and sought to reach for the half-fae. ‘Enough.’

Bess slumped, covering his face with his free hand. The tears loosened in a rush, as though he’d piled them all behind his eyes till now. ‘I should have been able to protect you. They have killed you, Ronin.’

The tsukumogami had come to the aid of someone he despised, to protect the one he loved. And the price was hefty.

What the fuck had Pitch been thinking, hiding away in the cottage at the bottom of the garden? Bess’s blame may be misplaced, but he wasn’t entirely wrong in it. Pitchhadput every single soul in the house in danger with his determination to deny his fate.

‘We shall be gone within the hour.’ He turned away from Bess’s tears and swallowed against a throat run dry with the weight of things. ‘It should have been sooner…forgive me.’

He struggled to keep from running to the door, but it felt an eternity before he was closing it behind him. Shutting away Bess’s words and Ronin’s sacrifice.

Pitch leaned against the wall, so preoccupied that he did not notice he had an audience.

‘Fire man, all right?’ Tilly and Forneus watched him, the hound on his haunches, the little fae beside him, her neck adorned with multiple necklaces.

‘Not really. But you’ll all be safe soon. I promise you, little one.’

Tilly took his clean hand. She was warm. ‘Not your fault.’