Page 40 of The Shadow of the Count
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know, but it was you. I am surprised that you never saw the man, as focused as he was.”
“I—There was a man. At the docks.” Donald shuddered.
“A man? An old man?”
“No. No, he was probably in his thirties? Older than Douglas, but far from old. Jeb saw him. I’m sure he could tell you every detail.” Donnie chewed his lower lip. “But he was like a dark cloud. Cold and angry and so…oily. Like a stain.”
“That sounds like the count, but Don, he was ninety if he was a day.” That made no sense, but what in this did? “There was a portrait of him, too, at about that age, but that had to be several hundred years ago. So it was an ancestor.”
“I don’t know, but there was something about the man, something…hungry.” Donnie shook his head. “And angry. So very angry.”
Peter nodded. “I felt that, from the start.”
“How can that be the same man?” Don made a frustrated noise. “So much we don’t know.”
A knock sounded, and he hoped it was the food. They would need their strength.
They were all in one place now, and that had to matter. Together they were more than the sum of their parts.
“Good day, sir. I brought some food. Your friends say they would like you to come at your earliest convenience. They’re in the dayroom.” The young man put the tray down on a table in the room’s little sitting area, then bowed out.
They could wait a little while longer. Just a bit.
Now they could dine and enjoy one another.
Breathe a moment before rejoining the tumult that was their team all together. They were good men, but chaos followed them wherever they went.
There was an array of breakfast foods, but he started with the toast and jam, which he knew Don loved. He would have to tempt Don into eating, he was sure. Don looked pale, tired circles under his eyes.
Don was sitting up, tugging on his shirt. “I’m scared, love. I’m—I’m in over my head.”
“So am I. It hasn’t stopped us before.”
“Yes, well, Charles was being possessed or some such.” That was a glint of a grin.
“Right-o. Please, let’s avoid either one of us doing that this time, hmm?”
“I agree wholeheartedly. No possession. No voices. Faces in the clouds, yes. Crazy bat wives, I suppose.” His lips twitched. Hard.
They stared at each other, then they began to howl, laughing together again. He clung to Donnie, laughing until he sobbed. He just wanted to stay right there forever. He had never loved anyone the way he loved this man.
“Promise me we can stay together,” he whispered. “That we will find a way.”
“We will. We may not be rich like Douglas and Charles, but we will do it.” Don’s chin and jaw had firmed up. “We’ll work for some dusty museum in some corner of a university and be very good friends. Very, very exceptional roommates with a huge bed.”
“That sounds amazing.” Peter surprised himself, because it really did sound stunning. He’d never expected that would be enough for him, but he realized he didn’t need to find fortune and fame if he had Don.
He wanted whatever they could have. Together.
“Come eat with me,” Don said. “I feel like I can stomach something now.”
“Good. I would avoid the eggs. You like yours more cooked.”
“Mmm. I think it’s a badge of honor with the cook here. The first morning, I asked for them over hard, and she took offense. Soft scrambled, poached, sunny-side up. I’ve seen them all. Even soft boiled.”
“Oh, frailty, thy name is a British manor house cook.”
“I mean it. Never ask for anything to be done a different way.” Don took toast and bacon, tomatoes and some sort of pastry.
