Page 289 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

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The sub-level upgrades are declared complete.

Lachlan has several new elements to incorporate into his overall running of the Estate. He still has access to the same parts of the sub-levels as before, disposal and holding, plus a few others, but the new areas are very firmly locked off by a single door, access granted only by authenticated fingerprint and code. Unlike the one on Sable Key, it’s tamper-proof in every way.

No one but Penhalyx is getting in there, which is fine because Lachlan already has his hands full as head of household and security.

It’s a significant responsibility, but one Lachlan knows how to handle. He sends Jolene a list of what he needs to make the upkeep manageable.

She promises delivery within two weeks.

In the spirit of wanting the best for Jules going forward, Lachlan compiles and prints everything he knows about Brightlings, all his research, even the stuff he doesn’t understand, and puts it in a binder. He decides that Jules can read it whenever he wants.

Lachlan had forgotten that Jules knew that about himself.

It unnerves him.

So, early in the afternoon on New Year’s Eve, he goes to Julian’s room while the boy is elsewhere with Vasily and carefully tucks the file under his pillow. Before he can pull his hand out, he finds something else under there.

It feels like a small book wrapped in cloth. Not just any cloth. The remains of his old, shredded T-shirt that Jules kept from the incident in the vent. Frowning to himself, Lachlan unties the material.

It’s a thin paperback with a plain black cover.

A notebook.

He opens it without thinking and almost instantly, when he sees page after page of Julian’s beautiful longhand written in what seem to be varying shades of reflective frenzy, Lachlan closes it.

Unfortunately, it’s too little, too late.

Jules and Vasily come inside, both freezing when they see him and what he’s holding. Amber eyes lock onto him, coldly accusatory.

‘That’s a new low, even for you,’ Jules utters quietly.

‘No, no. I was just… Look.’ Lachlan lifts the pillow, slightly manic. ‘File, see? I wanted to give you… Jules, I didn’t read it. I promise.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yes, really.’

‘Should I stay?’ Vasily asks his friend quietly.

‘No, you go,’ Jules tells him without looking at him. ‘I’m fine.’

Vasily leaves, and Jules steps away from the door. He’s dressed in a loose charcoal cashmere jumper, soft black lounge pants and wool socks. The dark palette brings out a vibrant hint of scarlet in his auburn hair.

Lachlan misses having the right to touch it.

‘I didn’t read your—’

Jules snatches the book from Lachlan’s hand, flipping to a specific page.

‘You didn’t get the chance before, so let me give it to you now. What do you want? Before you shot my soul in the guts and left it for dead, or after?’

‘I didn’t mean to open it.’

‘I think after, definitely. That’s where it gets really juicy,’ he sneers, so angry he’s trembling. He does not have his father’s talent for perfectly controlled fury. He’s fire underwater, this boy, always has been. ‘Here, how about—?’

Lachlan snatches it back, holding it away from him.