Page 60 of The Magpie Lord
“Shit.” Crane manoeuvred, with difficulty, until he bumped into Stephen’s small, slight body.
“Sit back to back. Let me see if I can do anything about getting you loose.”
“I’m in irons too,” Crane said unnecessarily, feeling Stephen’s fingers on his own, the other man’s little sag of defeat. “Why can’t you do iron?”
“It blocks the ether. You need to be strong as blazes to do anything with iron, and I’m very much not, right now.” Stephen let his body rest against Crane’s, warm in the chill damp of the cellar, head heavy against Crane’s shoulders. Their fingers met and held, tangling together, Crane very cautious in his movements as he felt the damp stickiness of the other man’s hands, the flinching tension.
“What now?” said Crane at last.
“We die, I expect. Sorry.”
“Oh, well. I never thought I’d reach forty.”
“You’re very...calm.”
“Well, I’ve been in a condemned cell before,” Crane pointed out. “The novelty wears off.”
Stephen actually laughed at that, a reluctant chuckle, and dropped his head back to rest against Crane’s shoulder again. “That’s aristocratic sang-froid, is it?”
“Certainly not. Just common or garden bloody-mindedness, much like your own.” He gently stroked Stephen’s raw, wet fingers, still adorned with the useless ring, feeling blood run down from the cut on his arm, not wanting to let go. “Tell me, why do that pair of lunatics hate you so much?”
“Thomas Underhill.” Stephen sighed. “Third son of a duke. Very powerful, very influential, very clever. Bruton and he were old school chums, thick as thieves. Esther and I were after the pair of them for some time, but the world is full of idiots like Fairley who can’t imagine a well-born warlock, and it was hard to pin them down. Buteventually we caught Underhill red-handed.” He paused. “I do actually mean red-handed. It was disgusting. Esther stayed to put the victims out of their misery, and I went after Underhill. I caught up with him on Romney Marshes.”
“Ah.”
“Esther came after me but she managed to break her ankle stepping in a rabbit hole, and when they found me I was half dead, and by the time she was able to identify Underhill’s workshop, it had been dismantled. By Bruton, I have no doubt. We made our accusations public, Bruton denied them, but our word is good, so Bruton and his lady are being seen for what they are now. They left London precipitately, two months ago. Esther and I were going to go after them when I recovered.” He took a long breath. “So, I killed his friend and I’ve made him known as a warlock. Bruton is not going to spare me. And he won’t spare you either.”
“What are they likely to do, any idea?”
“I imagine they’re going to use you as a live conduit for the power of Piper. That would add enormously to the effect of what they’re doing. I’m surprised they offered you an alternative, to be honest.”
“It wasn’t an attractive alternative. Stephen, can you strip me?”
“Lucien—”
“I mean it. I don’t want to be a live conduit. I’d rather be a dead nuisance. I’d rather die at your hands than theirs. And I’d rather give you a fighting chance. If you do it—”
“I know,” Stephen said rawly. “I know. Don’t. I can—try and kill you. If you like.”
“I would very much prefer you to live. I think those maniacs have plans that need scotching. Lady Bruton talked about their rightful place in ruling the country. She wanted me to speak in the Lords for them.”
“Did she, by God.” Stephen’s hand twitched against Crane’s. The drying blood felt tacky, bonding their fingers lightly together. “I don’tknow, Lucien. I don’t know if I could do it, I’ve got iron on my wrists. And even if I could, I don’t know if Ican.”
Crane started to object, stopped himself, and let the breath out on a long hiss. “Oh, the devil. I don’t know. Use your judgement, God knows that’s your role in life. I put myself in your hands when this whole ridiculous mess began, and I don’t regret that so...do as you think best.” He paused. “I just wish I’d had you in my bed, that’s all.”
Stephen’s fingers tightened on his, and Crane felt the quiver of pain. “So do I. I’d have liked more time with you.”
“A lot more time. Stephen, you’re the only spark of light I’ve encountered in this whole vile country. You’re extraordinary. You’re valuable. And I don’t want you to die because of me.”
“Lucien...” Stephen took a very deep breath, fingers grasping Crane’s hard. He gave a little gasp. “Lucien!”
“Listen.”
Footsteps, approaching, up at the top of the stairs. The door swung open, sending light spilling down the stairs, making Crane blink. He felt Stephen’s hands tighten convulsively on his own, as if grabbing for something that wasn’t there. Then Bruton and Baines marched down the stairs, Bruton’s fists closed on Crane’s jacket, dragging him up, and Stephen’s hands were torn from his grasp.
Chapter Eighteen
They were marched, blinking, into the garden, near the Rose Walk. The sky was blue and cloudless, the enclosing greenery lush, the scent of roses almost unbearably sweet. Magpies chattered and screeched in the surrounding trees, but none came close.
