Edwin addressed Terrance. “Where is James? What’s he doing? Does he look…” he paused, “…upset?”
Terrance named a pub I didn’t know. Edwin evidently did. “Blimey, that’s over in Limehouse. That’s half an hour’s walkaway, at least. James walks fast, but I always thought he did it to keep up with me.”
“How did he look?” I asked Terrance.
“Angry. Sad. Drunk.”
“How could you let him get drunk?” I fumed.
Terrance made a disgusted sound. “You wish me to enter a public house and prevent a human from imbibing hard liquor without drawing attention to myself? Pah. I had to wait until he ventured outside.”
“He’s got a point,” Edwin said, his reluctance to argue with me obvious from the way he allowed his words to slide under the table in a soft rumble rather than confront me head on.
“How can you be sure he’s still there?” I could feel panic rising in me, and with it a sense of frustrated helplessness. Why couldn’t I have wings like my familiar? My shoulders prickled with red-hot rage at my situation.
Terrance plucked at a wing feather before eyeing me intently. “I might have breathed a suggestion into his ear.”
“What?” Edwin’s head snapped from me to Terrance. “You can do magic?”
“Eh, some.” He shook his wings out to their full stretch. “You know where to find him. I require rest.” His gaze sharpened on me in the peculiar way he had that made me wonder, not for the first time, if my familiar was a sight more powerful than he let on. “The door, if you will.”
I tramped over to my carriage and ensured a small window was propped open in case he wanted to leave again, then poured him a dish of assorted nuts, fruit, and seeds that would serve until I had James back home where he belonged and I had time to cook something. I eyed Terrance as he strutted over to start eating. “How did he really look?”
“Hollow.” He picked out a large seed and cracked it noisily. Apparently that was all I was getting.
I changed into the first clothes I could find that weren’t caked in mud, and hurried back to Edwin. “Can you give me directions to this pub? You don’t happen to have a paper map by any chance? My phone’s not the kind that can download apps.”
He raised his eyebrows at this, but shook his head. “A taxi should be here shortly. My account is in the name Edward Marshall. I knew you’d go. And not just because I can’t.” When my own eyebrows mirrored his, he smiled softly. “You love him, Trace. I can see it in every move you make. You’re going for yourself as much as for me or James.”
“You see a lot, Edwin Marsh,” I murmured. But he wasn’t wrong.
As the taxi slowed down, I could see the pub with a couple of dozen patrons milling about outside. “Don’t leave until I’ve checked on my…friend,” I supplied, not willing to find out if my driver was a homophobe.
“It’ll cost ya.”
“I know. Mr Marshall is okay with that.” I hadn’t been specific about my plans, but as Edwin had all but pushed me out the door and said urgently, “Just get him home,” I didn’t think he’d begrudge a hefty taxi fare. I exited the cab and swept my gaze from left to right and back again. It wasn’t a big area to cover so where the hell was—Ahh.
Tucked into the doorway of a shop a few yards down the street, James looked exhausted and out of it, a lost soul in the middle of a party. His eyes weren’t even half open, and he had one hand clasped tightly around something in his pocket. Probably his phone. I motioned to the cabbie to stay where he was, which prompted a glower and a hand gesture that meanthurry up,then strode over as noisily as I could to James. He was mouthing something, but I didn’t think it was directed at me, or at anyone.
I moved into his line of sight and waited for his gaze to find me. His double take was a classic slow motion moment, except I didn’t find it amusing.
“Whatcha doin’ ’ere?” he slurred. “I don’ need a babysitter.”
You need a therapist, lovely lad.I gripped his shoulders, and his eyes rolled around a bit before he remembered he should probably look at my face. “Trace?”
“That’s right. I think you’ve probably had enough, don’t you?”
He blinked hard a few times. Peered again at my hands, then his knees began to buckle. I shifted closer and hefted him under the armpits, then twisted so I was supporting him sideways. He burped, a rancid mix of second-hand beer and cheesy crisps assailing my nostrils. “Still here, ain’t I? No’ enough.” Then, much clearer, “Fuck.”
Fuck indeed. “Can you walk? I have a taxi waiting. Eddie’s worried about you.”
“Hmm.” A long pause when I thought he might have fallen asleep. “I wanna fuck Eddie. ’S got a lovely arse.”
I choked back a chuff of laughter at this. “He certainly does. But I doubt you could fuck anyone, the state you’re in right now. Come on.” I took a firm grasp of him around the waist. “Let’s get you home.”In vino veritas,I mused as I guided him between the now carousing crowd outside the inn. I’d have to tell Edwin of this confession at some point, if only to reassure him that James really did want him.
The cabbie gave me daggers as I opened the back door. “If he chunders…”
“I know, we’ll be liable for the cleaning charge.” I manhandled a floppy James inside and clipped a seat belt around him. “This isn’t my first rodeo with a drunk friend. I came prepared.”
