Page 9 of The Herlequin: Pitch & Sickle 6

‘My point is the love between us is like that of brothers.’

‘So you enjoy incest, then?’

‘Tobias!’ Charlie laughed and seemed poised to say more when he wavered on his feet, pressing a hand to his belly.

Pitch reached for him before he could think better of it. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘A little faint, that’s all.’

‘When did you last eat something?’

Charlie frowned. ‘Do you know, I’m not really sure…’

‘Then do it now. I’ll not have them blaming me for you passing out. You’re right next to the kitchen, for fuck’s sake. Go and find something to eat. Nancy has baked all manner of atrocities this past week.’

The lad’s smile was fragile but it was there. ‘All right, so long as you’ll stay with Edward.’

‘Yes, yes.’ Pitch waved the lad away.

‘Shall I bring you something too? You haven’t had breakfast.’

‘No. No, it’s fine. I’ll have something later perhaps.’ He’d likely do no such thing. ‘Go on. Go. You could do with a wash, too.’

That had Charlie’s weariness vanishing beneath a look of horror. ‘Oh bloody hell.’ He sniffed his armpits. ‘Perhaps you are right.’

‘We spiteful, arrogant bastards usually are.’

Charlie gave Pitch’s arm a quick squeeze as he passed. ‘Arrogant but very brave. I’m glad Silas has you at his side. I’m glad we all do.’

Before Pitch could bluster a reply, Charlie was gone, taking the basin with him and leaving the door ajar. Leaving Pitch alone with the lieutenant and his secrets.

He gripped the back of the wooden chair, keeping it between him and the bed. Charlie’s misplaced but charming words rang in his head. Brave? Fuck, if the fool only knew.

‘Edward?’ Pitch cleared his throat. ‘Can you hear me? It’s Tobias. You were asking for me. Well, here I am.’

‘William Black.’ The lieutenant’s dry lips cracked just wide enough for the words, and Pitch almost squealed. Edward’s eyelids fluttered but remained closed.

‘What did you say?’ His pulse raced a little quicker to hear the old name. The one he’d borne when he’d been free to indulge in this world at will. The name he’d worn when he first met Edward, several years past.

‘William Black.’

The rain tapped at the windows like a bunch of piskies wanting in from the miserable weather. Pitch had been William Black too, when the Seraphim first toyed with him in his Sanctuary.

‘What do you want, Seraphiel?’ He might have sounded firm if not for a slight tremor on the name.

Edward shook his head, a slow back and forth. ‘The angel isn’t speaking, it’s me. Edward.’ Gods, the man sounded rough. Like a worker from one of the smoke-spewing factories which grew like mould over England. ‘That was you, wasn’t it? That man I knew as William. You are one and the same.’

‘We are.’ Pitch wet his lips before he spoke again. ‘The angel told you?’

Edward breathed. In and out. Each breath a laborious scrape of air. ‘Not by way of words…no…it doesn’t work like that. I just…understand things that once puzzled me. When we first met in January, at the Cyprians’ Ball, you seemed so familiar. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’

‘Well, you were hardly alone in that. I looked a dream that night.’ Pitch’s laughter was embarrassingly frail. Little wonder Edward did not join in.

‘Why didn’t you tell me, Tobias?’ The lieutenant’s eyes were yet to open. ‘Why did you allow me to believe myself going mad, when you knew all that had been done to me…you knew I was not imagining him?’

Pitch shifted back, away from the lieutenant and his questions. ‘I’m…’

What? Sorry? Was he to be as full of apologies as the ankou now?