Chapter Seventeen
Monday dawned greyand cold, no sign of the sun at all. A thick veil of cloud, heavy with rain, loomed over Edinburgh, and the air was chill and damp.
Francis was quiet, both over breakfast and as he and Lindsay walked to the bank. He’d been quiet the night before too, when Lindsay had emerged from Drew’s tenement into the darkness of Brodie’s Close, seeming to understand that Lindsay didn’t want to talk. No doubt he’d scented Drew on Lindsay’s body, and perhaps the sorrow and regret that saturated Lindsay’s spirit.
Lindsay had been glad of Francis’s silence last night, and he was still glad this morning. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened between him and Drew, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about how leaving the city felt so very wrong. How his wolf may have calmed, but now it was inconsolable at the thought of losing Drew, when it should be thinking only of escaping Duncan MacCormaic.
He didn’t want to acknowledge his own concern that he might not be able to control his wolf’s actions when he was forced to shift. And hewouldbe forced to do so tonight, at some point. There would be a full moon tonight, so shifting was unavoidable—unless he dosed himself with ’bane, which was not something he could even consider before he’d met with Cruikshank. He needed his wits about him to deal with that wily old fox.
Francis finally broke the silence as they neared Locke Court again, the bank draft for Cruikshank tucked inside Lindsay’s coat.
“You must try not to be too long at Cruikshank’s tonight,” Francis said. “It’s full moon.”
“Are you concerned about my self-control?” Lindsay asked. “That I might shift against my will?”
Francis sighed. “Don’t be offended. You’re not your usual self. You know that as well as I do.” He shook his head, unhappy. “The timing of this is all very unfortunate, I must say. MacCormaic leaving Paris, the full moon tonight, and now this.”
“This?” Lindsay asked, his tone deceptively light.
Francis paused in the street and turned to face him, his expression impatient. “Mr. Nicol, as you know very well.” He sighed. “Lindsay, it’s imperative you put distance between you. As much and as quickly as possible.”
Lindsay’s wolf didn’t like that. “Why?” he asked abruptly.
It was a stupid question and he knew it. Any fool could see Lindsay had no control around Drew. But he repeated the question nevertheless. “Why, Francis? Why does he affect me like this?” And this time his voice broke on the question.
Francis’s light brown eyes were soft with concern. “I don’t know why,” he admitted. He glanced around before he went on, making sure there was no one around to overhear. There wasn’t—the street was all but deserted—but still he said his next words under his breath. “It is worrying, though.”
“Why?”
“What if your wolf decides it wants to turn Nicol? What if the Urge possesses you? I can’t allow that, Lindsay. Whatever your feelings for the man might be.”
Lindsay glared at Francis. “Christ, Francis, you can’t think I’d—”
Francis met his angry gaze with a steady look. “Can you honestly say at this point that would never happen?”
Lindsay let out a defeated sigh and looked away. He couldn’t say that, and they both knew it. He had no idea what his wolf might do.
By mutual silent agreement, they turned away from each other and began walking again. The rain had started, a cold and miserable drizzle
Lindsay knew how strongly Francis felt about this. He and Lindsay had both been turned without their consent, though in very different circumstances. Lindsay’s turning had been a brutal near-slaying, while Francis’s had been intended as a kindness after Francis had been attacked and left to die. But Francis had not wanted the gift. He’d been horrified to be made into a wolf, and while he’d become resigned to his new existence over time, he remained a forthright opponent of any transformation that was not fully consented to.
“What if your wolf decides it wants to turn Nicol?”
Was Francis right to be worried?
Was Lindsay’s wolf capable of doing something like that?
Lindsay didn’t think so, but the truth was, he didn’t know.
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