Page 90 of Monstrous Travels as Wicked as Sin

“It’s a ten-minute cab ride,” Joe protested. “To your penthouse. That costs a fortune.”

Percy pulled Joe around the table, walking him backwards, kissing him over the words, “I can’t wait that long.” He dumped a grumpy but compliant Moxie on the bar, danced Joe past reception, and within minutes they were alone, just Percy and Joe, with all the cares and worries of their world shut outsidethat room, outside that bed, kept decadently at bay, until the hour came when they would have to open their door again, and let the horror back in.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

LA BANQUE DE FRANCE

Percy stood back from the enormous vault door as the bank assistant twisted the dial open. It dislodged with a gasp of temperature-controlled, hermetically sealed air.

Percy awaited the man’s departure before he made a move.

A metal grill clanked closed behind him, then he switched the light on inside the vault, and a veritable museum appeared before his and Leo’s eyes. Paintings, vases, antique tables and cupboards, weaponry, jugs, jars of things that looked decidedly sticky and unpleasant, some very good cheese, and a sizeable safe somewhere at the back of it all.

Percy made his way around, over, and through the priceless mess, then applied handsome fingers to the wheel of the safe. Left, right, left, right and left again, then a click. Inside sat half a dozen small lockboxes that had rested untouched for years.

A silver key, minuscule, was slid into one of those lockboxes, and a drawer snapped open.

Leo’s voice drifted over Percy’s shoulder, barely louder than the paintings that stood witness to his act. “Are you sure about this?”

Percy pulled out a petite, black velvet box. “Perfectly sure.” The lid creaked on tiny hinges as he eased it back to reveal what he had come for.

A ring.

The gold was thick, a little crooked and dented, coarse and uneven. Centred in its unsure setting was an inlay of sapphire, delicately carved to depict the crossing of two hands. The jewel had been constructed some two thousand years prior, in Rome, for the very purpose Percy intended to use it today.

The promise of forever.

He released the ring from its satin enclosure, and stretching his hand open, slid it onto his ring finger.

It was that tiny bit loose. Not enough to slip over the knuckle by accident, but enough to slide freely. On Joe, it would be perfect.

Percy held it up, the sapphire glinting in the light. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“I think he’ll love it.” Leo was honest and open in the statement, as he always was with Percy, though he may have let a little too much honesty slip through when he then joked, “And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll break his finger and take it back.”

Percy let the childish jibe go, well aware of Leo’s jealousy, and determined to see it through to the other side as smoothly as possible. “Once you give an engagement ring, you can never ask for it back. You do it once and you do it right, or you don’t do it at all. Remember that.”

“But…” Leo paused over his words, while Percy tilted his hand back and forth, admiring the ancient adornment. “It’s your favourite thing. It’s irreplaceable. Priceless. It’s?—”

“Eternal,” Percy finished for him. “Just like me and Joe.”

CHAPTER FORTY

THE PARIS APARTMENT

The ring was Percy’s main purpose for returning to Paris. That and to get away from all the trauma of London and Scotland. There was still no trace of Molly. Cleo had been reported missing by her husband some weeks back, but given he was a tyrant, friends, family, and police took the view she was more likely to have fled from him than to have come to any harm. A few media outlets dropped the suggestion that he may have been instrumental in her disappearance, but then, a few days later, they reported that she had contacted police in Hungary, and was no longer considered a missing person.

The trail being cold, there was little for them to do but wait. And why not wait it out in style?

Having arrived in the city around midday, the six of them—Percy, Joe, Althea, Leo, Cleo, and Moxie—had gone for a spot of lunch. Percy, dressed in an appallingly attractive brown three-piece suit, had soon announced he had a matter to attend to, tapped Leo’s arm, and wandered off with instructions for the others to meet them in Montmartre three hours hence.

This was, by now, standard Percy behaviour, which got little more than an eye roll from Joe, which made Percy evenless inclined to leave him, but engagement rings are serious business.

Joe and Althea, skull in hand, cat in tow, had few complaints about finishing their wine by the Seine, then meandering their way across town on an impromptu shopping spree. Althea had received her first payment from Percy, and as such, had decided, like Leo, to dedicate her life to the art of crime. She bought more gaudy clothes than Percy was likely to cope with, while Joe kept himself to too much food and a few books. Then he took Althea with him on one last errand that she was to keep top secret from Percy.

He had dressed as a priest that morning and mentioned to Percy that he wanted to call into a church alone. Percy had been the usual mixture of displeased beneath but encouraging on the surface, with a little extra of the latter, given that it would, at least, keep Joe wrapped up and well away from what he was doing.

Joe didn’t take long to complete his final task of the afternoon, and when the group met again, it was on Rue Blanche, in Montmartre, where they gathered before a bright red door set into the pale stone of Haussmann’s Paris. Those last three hours were all the time Percy and Joe had spent apart after two weeks recovering in London, and they were like teenagers when they found one another on the street again. Percy’s hand slipped straight over Joe’s belt to pull him in for a kiss. Joe’s arms were around Percy, and it was a moment that Percy, back when their adventure had begun in earnest months earlier, could never have imagined coming.

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