Often when I’d been sent out to gather bodies for the Bone Men, I slept in alleys and doorways and begged for food on street corners to sustain myself. I knew that desperation and, even if this was his own doing, a part of me hated to see him suffer.
He wrung his hands together, and his eyes slid back toward mine. “I realize you had good reasons for leaving. For getting away from it and distancing yourself. I tried to make you feel guilty for that, and that was unkind.”
The last shred of the anger I’d felt in the market dissipated. Penny’s doe eyes and hangdog look had taken all the wind out of my sails. As far as I could tell, he genuinely feltremorse for what he’d said, though frankly he didn’t need to. It had been the truth.
The clouds split open, and rain came down in heavy sheets. Penny flinched, and his shoulders drooped further.
I sighed and slumped against the door. “Do you have a room at the inn tonight?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have the coin for one.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I shut the door and headed for the den, skirting the table laden with books. Grabbing a pillow from the couch and a fur off the back, I returned to the front hall.
When I pulled the door open again, Penny stood at the edge of the porch looking out into the rain. He jerked his head around when he heard the creak of the hinges.
“Here.” I held the bedding out to him. “I’m not letting you in, but you can at least stay out of the rain.”
He took the items without a word, and I closed and locked the door behind me.
Back in the den, my whiskey and I returned to the coffee table. There was nothing left to distract me and no more stalling to be done.
“…This is the worst decision you’ve made in a very, very long time,” I said to the crushing silence.
I stared at the pile of books, and a feeling of dread swelled in my gut. There was no going back if I started down this road again. There would be no peace, no quiet and unassuming life, no salvation.
Maybe there never was. Not for men like me, anyway.
5
Kit
Despite my intention to make it to bed that night, I woke the next morning with my face pressed so hard into the couch cushions that they left an imprint on my cheek. It took a monumental effort to push myself upright. When I did, the empty whiskey bottle that had been propped against my leg clunked to the floor and rolled under the coffee table. The thought of bending over to retrieve it made my head hurt, so I left it to settle into its new home while I fought my way to standing.
Clearly, the cheese toast had not been sufficient to stave off a hangover. The horrors detailed in clinical detachment on the pages of the half-dozen open journals in front of me hadn’t helped either, sparking vivid nightmares that robbed me of much-needed sleep. As I staggered to the kitchen for water to relieve my cotton mouth, I felt like the alcohol was still working its way out of my system.
It took two full glasses before I could think about breakfast without my stomach churning. Thanks to my shortened shopping trip the day before, I didn’t have muchin the pantry, so I scrambled a few eggs and then washed them down with two cups of coffee.
That perked me up enough to start my day in earnest. A peek out the front window found Penny still asleep on the front porch while rain pelted down from dark, angry clouds. Lightning flashed intermittently, chased by deep growls of thunder.
It seemed fitting that the weather was as foul as my mood.
I made it to my bedroom at least eight hours after I’d planned to, where I changed into clean clothes. It would be a wet walk to the forge, but at least the heat there would dry me off.
I was headed for the front hall again when a niggling feeling of guilt tugged at me. If my unwanted guest hadn’t the coin for a room, it was unlikely he had coin for food, either. With a groan, I returned to the kitchen and dug out an apple and the rest of the cheese in its waxed paper wrapping.
“Pushover,” I grumbled to myself, stalking to the front door and opening it as quietly as I could. I set the food beside the lightly snoring Penny and, my guilt soothed, stepped out into the rain.
I spent the morning putting the finishing touches on my knife—a skinning blade that would be useful for more than menacing Penny—between work on paying projects. There was no one else about. Everyone but me was smart enough to stay in out of the weather, but that suited me just fine; I appreciated the peace, and I always got more work done without interruptions.
The rain continued until midday when the sun broke through the clouds and brought clear skies. As the afternoon wore on, the market grew livelier, though no one stopped to talk. I worked until the sun started its descent in the west,ending my day with all outstanding orders complete and ready for delivery the next morning. With any luck, Penny would be gone by then, back home where he belonged, and I could enjoy a few days off before the next plow blade needed sharpening or I worked up the nerve to venture back to the Bone Men’s hidden settlement. Whichever came first.
I returned to find my porch empty. The fur was folded neatly against the side of the house with the pillow on top. I brought them inside with me, dropping them on the couch in the den and pointedly avoiding the contents of the coffee table as I passed. I intended to spend my evening paging through the journals again, but not without at least a pleasant haze of alcohol.
Memories of finishing off my last bottle of whiskey the night before resurfaced, and I blew out a long breath. If I’d thought of it while I was in town, I could have swung by the pub on my way and picked up another. But I’d been too distracted wondering if I’d be subjected to another impassioned plea from Penny when I got home to think about anything else.
“Godsdamned Penny,” I muttered and headed back to town.
