Page 29 of Monstrous Travels as Wicked as Sin

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DINNER WITH A WITCH(’S HEAD)

Some time later, Percy stood in the pub kitchen, half naked, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Fuck you!” he shouted at the pan as his delivery of cognac resulted in a much larger flame than he had anticipated.

Joe, also half naked, sitting atop a bench, took a sip from the bottle of exceptional wine Percy had brought with them, adjusted his grip on Molly, who was tucked under his spare arm, and reflected that perhaps pub life would suit him after all. There didn’t seem to be much of anything but horror in the world outside, while inside it was warm, Percy’s stupidly thick, aged, expertly cut (supposedly) steaks that he’d bought from ‘the best butcher in Scotland’ smelled spectacular, and after an evening of incredible sex, Joe was very close to perfectly content.

For all the cursing and sparks, Percy had no trouble keeping several pans boiling, with the oven crisping dangerously thick chips all the while. When it was time, he plated the food as beautifully as a chef might, nodded for Joe to follow, and carrying two heavily laden dishes, settled them atop a table in front of the fire he’d been feeding throughout the entire process, until it lit the empty pub with a roaring warmth. He filled theirwine glasses, then paused. “Should we put shirts on? This feels undignified.”

Joe placed Molly in the centre of the table and dropped into his chair. The steak and wine and firelight said formal, but the line of Percy’s adonis belt rising up behind the table, his abs and chest being licked by cosy orange light, screamed to Joe that formality was wildly overrated. “Sit.”

It wasn’t only the ungodly beauty of Percy that allowed Joe to reach the decision so quickly. The fact was, this first home-cooked meal felt right. It felt like this moment was the natural order of things. It held a promise of mornings in their kitchen together, after waking up together, after years together. Joe didn’t want another night of starched shirts and expensive restaurants. He wanted a life with Percy—just Percy—and that was the moment Joe began to think he might be close to ready to go home.

Joe had agreed to marry Percy at least partially because he was caught up in the moment when Percy asked him to. And because he wanted Percy to be happy. And, well, who wouldn’t want Percy for a husband? Only mad people, surely. But getting married had never, ever, been on his radar before. It wasn’t even legal, so there had been no point in thinking about it, as far as Joe was concerned.

But there was Percy, fussing, adorably, about the amount of garlic in the sauce, the seasonality of the asparagus, something about the grain of the beef, and Joe wanted a gold band on his finger that would flash in firelight just like this for the rest of their lives. A million meals explained in excruciating detail until they were old and grey and just as in love as they were now.

Percy gave an apprehensive nod, so he must have finished his explanations around the time Joe finished his reflections, and accordingly, Joe sank his knife into the steak. Percy had cooked it exceptionally rare, and pale blood and oil mingled with thecreamy sauce in a swirl that looked as delicious as it smelled. Joe bit into it, Percy watched on tenterhooks, and Joe, eventually, said, “When are we moving in together?”

Percy’s face lit. “Really? It’s good?”

“Good?” said Joe, trying to maintain the power of speech as the meat melted on his tongue, which he didn’t know until that moment beef could do. He shoved more in, only this time doused in the perfectly garlicked sauce, mumbling around it, “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And that comment, coincidentally, was perhaps the best thing that had ever happened to Percy, because he had wanted more than anything, as usual, to impress Joe. “Move into my place. I can do breakfast too.”

Joe shook his head over a sip of wine. “I’m supposed to live in the rectory. Come live with me.”

The rectory where Joe, when possessed, had cut the priest’s head off and left it sitting in the centre of the dining table… Percy wasn’t especially squeamish, but that mental image might enhance the dining experience there for some time to come. “My kitchen’s brand new. State-of-the-art. I can do amazing things for you there.”

“We’ll get a new kitchen put in,” Joe pushed. “Anything you like.”

“But I have a dungeon at my place.”

A good point. Joe had no dungeon. “But have you seen my courtyard? I’ve got grapes. And the cottage is adorable. Can you imagine brunch out there in the summer?”

Yes, Joe’s place was all doilies and china and very old-fashioned everything. Quaint. In the extreme. Fine for a holiday. “I just don’t see where I could keep my weapons. And I’m not sure the art would go with the rest of… it…”

Another convincing argument. Goya’s Disasters of War etchings would look a little out of place next to the tacky ‘art’Joe’s predecessor loved, that Joe now refused to part with, all kittens and rosy-cheeked children. And it was probably cruel to inflict that on Percy full time. And, to be fair, Percy’s place, a refurbished church, was custom designed for Percy. Every inch of it, he had chosen himself, from the rugs to the ‘borrowed’ paintings to the antique chandeliers. His golden bathtub was something to behold.

Percy watched Joe quietly mulling everything over, and said, as casually as one might ask someone to pass the salt, “You know, if you quit the Church, you wouldn’t owe them a thing, and you could live wherever you wanted.Withwhoever you wanted.”

Joe relaxed his cutlery, a warning settling over his eyes. “That’s the second time tonight you’ve asked me. The answer’s the same.”

“It was worth a shot.” Percy threw back some wine with a deliberately calming smile and refocused. “Where would you keep Molly? Would she get her own special doily?”

He easily pulled a laugh from Joe. “I wasn’t planning to keep her.”

“Hrrrrrr,” said Molly.

Joe and Percy locked eyes across the table, and a second later, she was in Percy’s hands, his rich baritone speaking smoothly to her. “Would you like to come and live with me, darling?”

Molly kept her silence.

Percy turned her around to look at Joe. “Or do you think we should live with him instead?”

Joe rolled his eyes, and again, Molly didn’t make a sound.

“Odd,” said Percy.

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