by D K Girl
Kaneko gave a slight shake of his head, and turned his attention to Silas who hobbled across the room with the aid of a walking cane that Isaac had handed him as he struggled to alight from the carriage. Curiously, Silas’s injured ankle did not bother him nearly so much by the time they had made the journey from the cemetery to The Atlas, and he was very much gratified to learn he could dispense with Pitch’s assistance upon arrival. The cane being entirely adequate.
‘Mr Mercer,’ Kaneko said. ‘I must warn you, your choice of company may lead you into some trouble.’ He selected a pint glass, and pulled an ale, the deep brown liquid frothing as it poured. Kaneko made no mention of the state of either Silas or Pitch. ‘He’s not one to waste your time with.’
‘Oh, do be a good tsukumogami and piss off.’ Pitch dropped into one of the armchairs by the fire. In the usual strangeness of things that Silas was fast becoming used to, there happened to be a pair of brown trousers and a light yellow shirt resting in a storage compartment in the carriage, and fitting him near on perfectly. No shoes were forthcoming so he was still bare-footed but it was welcome relief to have him clothed more appropriately, even if he had cursed over the plainness of the attire and had made a grand and vulgar show of dressing in the confines of the cabin. Silas’s shabby coat now lay waiting in the carriage for the return to Holly Village and Gilmore’s attentions.
Kaneko set down the pint of ale, doing so with enough gusto to send froth spilling down its sides. It was likely too early for such indulgence, but with the bloody encounter still so fresh, Silas was not about to refuse.
‘Oh, thank you very much.’ Silas was quietly impressed that the bartender remembered his ale preference.
‘Can I get you anything else, Mr Mercer?’
‘Well,’ he tugged at the foul material of his shirt. ‘I was wondering if perhaps there were some—’
‘We’re hungry,’ Pitch called out. ‘Is Mr Harrison in the kitchen?’
Muscles at Kaneko’s square jaw tightened. ‘You know full well he’s on the evening shift, you ask every time. We’re not even open for another hour or two, you’re lucky I’m serving.’
‘Lucky?’ Pitch sniffed. ‘You gibfaced twat, talking as though you have a damned say in the matter. Ahari says jump, the umbrella jumps.’ He slid deeper into his seat his backside barely upon the cushion. ‘Mercer, let me tell you. Mr Harrison knows his way around a kitchen. The man’s cakes are more angelic than a single one of those celestial assholes.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Umbrella, you got anything that passes for food in that kitchen then?’
Kaneko glowered, his lips pressed white-tight, and looked set to tell Pitch exactly what he could do with his demand when Silas’s stomach launched into a fervent growl. The bartender’s sour mood lightened with a wry smile.
‘Mr Mercer, could I interest you in a kedgeree perhaps? It was on the menu just last night. I could warm it for you?’
‘I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten such a thing. What might it consist of?’ Though in truth he’d have eaten a piece of dry bread readily enough.
‘Pure delight, an exotic mix that’s been brought all the way from India, can you imagine?’ Silas could not. ‘Smoked haddock, some rice, and wonderful spices of curry, and coriander and turmeric.’
The bartender seemed so delighted by the dish Silas had no heart to decline, even if it sounded far too rich for his tastes. ‘How wonderful. I would love some.’
Kaneko fairly danced behind the bar. ‘Please take a seat. I’ll see to the food. Mr Ahari will be down momentarily.’
At least there would be no stairs to deal with, a small mercy.
‘Of course,’ Silas said. ‘But I wondered if I might bother you for,’ he brushed at his shirt. ‘A change of clothing?’
‘Of course, of course. You have had quite the day of it, haven’t you.’ His smile had returned in full.
‘Wine.’ Pitch called from where he lounged. ‘Red. With a serve of strawberry tarts.’
Kaneko’s smile slipped like an egg upon an oily pan.
‘Allow me,’ Silas said. ‘I’ll take him the wine if you’d like?’
Kaneko threw him a grateful look, and leaned across the bar. ‘You’re too good for the likes of him, Mr Mercer. Stay well clear would be my advice. He was not made for niceties.’ He withdrew, gathering a bottle of wine and a glass. ‘For his highness.’
Pitch pulled himself into an upright position, a thunderous look upon his face, and it seemed he might launch himself across the room at the bartender. ‘Shall I wipe that grin from your face entirely?’ The sound was as of distant thunder, rumbling and low.
Exhausted, hungry and with the bruising around his neck tender to the touch, Silas hurried to stunt the mercurial rise of Pitch’s temper.
‘Thank you, Kaneko. Most grateful.’ He negotiated the wine, glass and pint, as the bartender repeated his most discomforting disappearing act. One moment there, the other simply not. Silas hurried to where Pitch had returned to his slumped position. His trousers had slipped over his hips, and a fine fuzz of dark hair was visible at the low waist. His eyes held a gleam of gold that did not come from the meager fire.
Setting the wine and glass on the small rounded table beside him, Silas said the first thing that came to mind.
‘I’m rather glad we don’t have to climb those infernal stairs.’
‘When one has no talent for small talk, one should not talk at all.’ Pitch gestured at the bottle and the cork escaped its top, flying into the hearth, a tiny plume of scattering embers marking its landing place. He poured himself a full glass of crimson wine, tilting it to his lips and downing the contents entirely, save for the few droplets that ran down his chin and marked his fresh shirt.
Silas took a much more modest sip of his ale. As Pitch poured himself another, he touched his free hand to his own neck. ‘You have bruised up quite nicely.’
‘Yes.’ Silas desired to set the blame on Pitch, but with the man’s temper so recently cooled the idea was foolish, if not dangerous.
‘Delicate flower, aren’t you?’
The sigh left him before Silas could contain it. He was tired beyond all measure, his clothing was damp, and the memory of the horrors of the graveyard were ripe and fresh. Maintaining civility in the face of Pitch’s constant bad manners required a strength that was fast waning. ‘A bruise is a normal enough thing, considering the force used.’
‘Normal for you perhaps. Despite my best efforts to cause myself great injury, the blood barely spills before the repair begins. They have reinforced my prison well.’
‘Your prison?’ Silas took a glorious sip of warm ale, the froth touching at his nose.
Pitch rolled his head so that he looked on Silas without shifting in his chair. ‘I am beautiful as I am, I’m sure you’ll agree but I am breathtaking in my true form, I can assure you. Oh Mr Mercer, you would be entirely speechless if you set eyes upon me were I able to discard this flesh. But alas I cannot, as they are not done with toying with me just yet. My penance continues.’ A muscle in his jaw flexed, and he sucked back the remainder of his glass, as though he wished to punish the droplets. ‘If I had known I was to be confined to this form for so long, I would have given myself two cocks and several assholes to while away the time.’
Silas stared at him, the pint glass near his lips forgotten. What creature did Silas find himself in the company of? Aside from impossibly vain and arrogant? ‘This is not your true form?’
‘Why do you insist on speaking with a tone that suggests you do not believe a word I say? It’s really quite irritating.’
There it was again, the faint rumble of menace that rose from the man like frost on a winter’s morn.
‘My apologies. I can assure you I do not intend to patronise you. This has been a decidedly fraught few weeks, and I am faced with fantastical situations that I’m struggling to comprehend.’ Silas contemplated his half-drunk ale, already the warmth of it spreading through his belly, bringing enough ease with i
t for him to continue. ‘I don’t believe I thanked you, for aiding me today.’
Tap snorted. ‘Aiding you? Christ man, I saved your bloody life.’
‘Of course, yes. You did. And I am so very grateful that you heeded my calls for assistance.’
Pitch ran his tongue over the rim of his glass. ‘Not as though I had a choice.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I have no duty to you, Mr Mercer, and no interest in extricating you from the situations you lower yourself into. I followed orders simply because I have no other choice, for now.’
‘Orders?’
‘Our dear and illustrious Lady of the house had Matilda stir me, at a rather inopportune moment I must say. Might I say, you should probably have Gilmore launder your sheets before you next sleep upon them.’ Silas coughed into his ale, the last of the froth lifting from the glass.
‘The Lady Satine is in London?’he said, recovering.
‘I didn’t say that. I said she had Matilda rouse me. And she could have done so in far more pleasant ways.’
‘But if Lady Satine is not in London, how did she know I was in peril?’
Pitch rubbed at his face. ‘Gods man, you were in spitting distance of four of her elementals. Likely one of them watched you. Can you please stop talking?’
‘Gentlemen!’ Mr Ahari’s voice, so close behind, nearly lifted Silas from his chair. ‘Oh apologies, Mr Mercer.’ He chortled. ‘I do tend to be light-footed as a fox.’ He lowered himself onto the hearthstone, a familiar bottle of brandy in one hand, a glass in the other. ‘How wonderful to see that you have forgiven Mr Astaroth for his heavy hand, Silas. I did not expect to have you back here quite so soon, you’ve had quite the adventurous time of it, my boy. How are you?’
‘Well, I would say I have been better. That encounter with the…’
‘Fucking harpies.’ Pitch spoke into his glass, which was all but empty.
‘The harpies,’ Silas nodded. ‘It was frightening indeed, to say the least of it.’
‘Quite, quite. I imagine it was very upsetting.’
Kaneko appeared quite out of thin air, right alongside Mr Ahari. Silas barely held onto his pint. The bartender carried two open trays, one held an enormous slab of Victoria cake, three layers of sponge filled to bursting with cream and strawberries. The other was a heaped dish of yellow rice smothered in a rich brown sauce filled with chunks of fish and other things Silas could not make out. The waft of smoked haddock caused his mouth to water.
‘Oh by the gods,’ Pitch wrinkled his fine nose. ‘Did you insist on choosing the foulest smelling dish on the menu?’
‘Tobias, now now. That will be quite enough.’ Mr Ahari’s smile was pleasant but warning laced his words. ‘And don’t be giving Kaneko any strife for failing to delivery strawberry tarts, the cake will have to do you. Another snide word from you and I will have him remove it entirely.’
The possibility pleased Kaneko visibly, his eyes brightening.
‘Suffer the consequence if you try.’ Pitch snarled, snatching the cake from the bartender, and moving to sit at the opposite end of the hearthstone. As far from Silas’s curry as possible apparently.
‘Here you are Mr Mercer,’ Kaneko’s face filled with a smile as he set the remaining dish on the side table. ‘I do hope you enjoy.’
‘Where is the cream?’ Pitch demanded. Kaneko made such a furious face, Silas was forced to stifle laughter.
‘He insists on three times the amount of sugar be added to any recipe,’ the bartender whispered. ‘It’s disgusting. Just as well his body is kept by means other than natural or his teeth would have fair rotted from his head.’
‘My unnatural ears can hear your snivelling, you rotund asshole. Now where’s that cream?’
‘I fear you did not understand my words, Mr Astaroth.’ Mr Ahari spoke lightly but Pitch stayed silent, the message received.
Kaneko patted Silas’s shoulder. ‘When you have eaten I’ll show you where you can change your clothes. I presumed you and your stomach were needing food first and foremost.’
‘Thank you very much.’ He wasn’t wrong. Silas could barely get his forkful to his mouth fast enough, and discovered a steaming, flavourful heaven assaulting his senses.
Kaneko left them, walking this time, rather than simply vanishing. Mr Ahari regarded the fire, sipping every so often at his brandy. He took the poker and stoked what remained of the embers.
‘Now you have finished insulting my employee, Pitch, I would like to speak with you both of the events of this afternoon. My apologies for the hasty request that you travel here, but I’m not one for travelling about this early in the day, and I thought it best we spoke where there is no chance of being overheard.’
‘Not much to tell, the harpies knew a giant imbecile when they saw one, and decided he was easy sport. They did not live to regret it.’ Cream filled the corners of Pitch’s mouth. ‘Oh, by Lucifer’s balls, Mr Harrison knows his way around a cake tin.’ He dropped his head back, groaning as he chewed at the mouthful.
‘Don’t mind him, Mr Mercer,’ Mr Ahari chuckled. ‘Our friend here has quite a serious addiction to the sweeter things. But he does underplay the attack on your person somewhat. Pitch, I am not certain if you frequented this world much in the days before your…ah…current situation—’
A hardness set itself into Pitch’s features, his sugar-dusted lips tight. ‘Such visits were undertaken for pleasure, and pleasure alone. I could hardly have given less of a damn what harpies were doing, unless of course they were doing me.’ He laughed, but the sound had no substance and quickly died. ‘And if by my current situation you refer to the fact that Lady Satine holds my leash, thank you so dearly for the reminder.’ Daggers of emerald were sent the old man’s way. ‘Make your point, you’re boring me.’
Mr Ahari selected a log from the pile stacked by the fire, and cast it onto the rising embers. Sparks danced in a brief flurry. ‘That point is that though the harpies are prone to being bothersome, such violence is quite unheard of.’
‘How dull,’ Pitch sighed.
Mr Ahari showed the first sign of frustration, his lips pressing tight for a moment before his smile settled back into place. ‘I’m quite sure the Lady Satine explained it to you both, but I shall re-iterate. The Order of the Golden Dawn has existed in this world for a very long time. It was not set up purely to indulge and exploit the latest obsession in this society for all things of the paranormal nature, though granted that has been a financially fortuitous coincidence. Members of the Order are monitors, if you will. Guardians who police the supernaturals who reside here in this world, and ensure that their co-existence alongside the humans runs smoothly. And it is rather a case of vice-versa, too. Humans are fearful creatures, and will tend to do some rather unsavoury things to those they do not understand. The Order keeps the balance, punishes those who stray into nefarious ways and protects those not so capable of doing so themselves.’ His soft brown eyes settled on Silas who shovelled another large spoonful of rice into his mouth. The kedgeree was quite astounding, Kaneko was right to have been so enthusiastic about the dish. ‘Just as you were protected today, Mr Mercer. I can assure you, what occurred was highly unusual, and most definitely something the Order will investigate.’
‘Since when am I part of your bloody Order?’ Pitch scoffed.
‘Come now, Mr Astaroth, did you believe yourself to be on a sojourn where you could do as you wished indefinitely? There has always been an intention for you, but her Ladyship did not insist on it until now.’
Silas sniffed, nose running from the heat of the curry. He set aside his plate, his appetite fading. ‘So I was not singled out?’
‘We don’t believe so, no,’ Mr Ahari said. ‘The Village tends to draw the less civilised of the supernaturals to its doorstep, on account of the energies that go into its protection and fortification. Much the same as the Atlas, really. Moths to the flame, as it were. Moths seeking a high, I’m afraid. But such deliberate vi
olence, such a co-ordinated attack was unheard of, until recently.’
Pitch set his empty plate upon the hearth, the crack of porcelain on stone sending a shiver across Silas’s shoulders. ‘Care to inform us as to what is going on? Don’t dally with dramatics, Mr Ahari. Why did those harpies lose their minds, before they lost their heads?’
Mr Ahari set down his glass, and templed his fingers, studying them. ‘Mr Mercer you should heed my instructions in future, for I did say that you should not leave Holly Village unless told, but I believe you’ve learnt your lesson well enough. I advised such caution because there have been several unsavoury incidents reported as of late, and we are yet to find a definitive answer as to why.’
‘Well, if Satty wants me on your little team, I’m quite happy to kill as many fucking harpies as you like. Their stench is ridiculous.’ Pitch refilled his glass.
‘That won’t be necessary, Tobias. At least, we sincerely hope not.’
Pitch ran his finger tip through the last remnant of icing sugar upon his plate. ‘You’re as great a showman as those bloody Americans, the Fox sisters. Enough with the mysterious allusions, spit it out. What is the problem?’
Mr Ahari’s withering gaze would have caused Silas to cower, but Pitch simply belched. After a great pause Mr Ahari cleared his throat, and poured himself more brandy. ‘Now that you are awakened to your role, Mr Mercer, and a place has been found for you Tobias upon our little team, allow me to educate you further. The heart of this world holds a turmoil. A darkness that has resided there for time immemorial, as much a part of the landscape as a storm or an erupting volcano, and just as powerful.’
‘A darkness?’ Silas repeated, rather dumbly. Like a person new to language reciting a word he does not understand.
‘It is named the Blight. The Lady Satine contains it for the most part, but there are certain weaknesses within the earth where such a task is near on impossible and faint traces of it escape. These places are well known to us and it is simply a matter of monitoring it, and dealing with any…abnormalities it may cause. You see, there are some who react rather unfavourably to its touch.’ He took a long, slow sip. Silas wanted to knock the glass from his hand and demand he speak on. ‘The Blight is bothersome certainly but has failed to cause any great concern in near on two thousand years, just a few outbreaks here and there. Certainly nothing so great the Order and the Lady Satine, could not deal with it readily enough.’
