Page 121 of Hearts of Stone

“Luther… But how—?”

“Come and have a cup of tea,” I said, directing him to the kitchen, “and we’ll ring Mellors and see if he’s still awake. I think I only want to tell this story once.”

“Then never again,” Seneca growled, having apparently decided to join us.

“We have a whole life ahead of us, blessedly free of that bastard,” Carrick agreed, and the kitchen suddenly seemed a lot more crowded, particularly when he shot me a saucy wink. “And I know just how I want to spend it.”

“This Luther was an enemy of the house?” Wulf asked, as he started looking through the cupboards.

“He was,” I said, feeling a small pang, then stifling it quickly. “And what’re you looking for?”

“Ale. All good war stories are better with a stout ale in your hand.”

“Something tells me I’m gonna need a beer too,” Harry said, plucking a six pack from the fridge, then cracking one can and handing it to Wulfstan. “Wrap your laughing gear around that one, mate.”

“Laughing—?” Wulfstan started to ask.

“Have a drink,” we informed him.

“So,” I said, half an hour later, as Mellors walked in the door, a frown on his face. “It turns out Adam was Luther and he was also Mr Big…”

Chapter 67

Jade

Waking up knowing your evil nemesis is dead, torn to pieces by the souls of those he hurt? It’s the best damn feeling in the world. It was mid-afternoon before I got up. I could have done with more sleep, but I’d set myself an alarm after I’d found out what time the ICU visiting hours started. Once I’d showered and got dressed, I caught an Uber to the hospital.

When I got to the ICU, I found Mellors sitting beside Daniel’s bed, a pen in his hand and the newspaper crossword open in front of him. He smiled a little as I walked in, then set the paper aside and got to his feet.

“Harry and I have been taking it in shifts,” he explained. “I’ve checked with hospital security and offered them financial aid to employ another guard outside Daniel’s door, but…” He let out a breath. “That won’t be needed, will it?”

I shook my head sharply, not sure why I felt tears welling, but I just smeared them away with the back of my hand. He moved in closer, giving me a hug, and I let myself feel the comfort and support that I now associated with the tight weave of his woollen suit.

“Not anymore,” I promised him, as much as I was promising it to Daniel. “No one’s going to hurt him again.”

“Well, he’s looking much better today.” Mellors steered me over to the bed and I saw with relief that the bruises had begun to fade, his breathing tube was out and the head of the bed was slightly elevated. Daniel was far too quiet and still and his blue hair was looking a little faded against the white pillow, but he was healing. With every breath, his body was repairing itself from the damage done.

But what of his mind?

“What will we do when he’s awake?” I asked in a tight voicer. “He was… He’ll need help getting past… that.”

“I know some very well-regarded trauma psychologists,” Mellors informed me, “who are experienced in dealing with queer clients and have a kink-positive approach.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but this could be a positive turning point for Daniel.”

Whatever else he had to say was quickly superseded by a cough from the patient. I moved away from Mellors to drop down beside the bed, scanning Danny’s face as he coughed, then coughed again. And then his eyes opened a crack.

“Jade…?”

That started him off into a coughing fit that got louder as he started really hacking his lungs out. Before I could hit the panic button, a nurse calmly walked in and adjusted the bed so that he was sitting up more, then moved his pillows so he could catch his breath more easily. She took a look at him, then busied herself with a jug on the cabinet beside the bed.

“Here you go,” she said, holding a cup to his lips. “You’re all dried out. Drink this down and it’ll help, I promise.”

As he sipped the drink, I slid my hand across the blankets towards him. As soon as it got close enough, he gripped my fingers. When I saw the red marks and bruises I felt bad fortouching him, but he wouldn’t let go. Not when he finished the drink, not when he sank back against the pillows.

“You’re safe now,” I told him over and over, as his eyes fluttered closed. “No one will ever hurt you like this again. I made sure of it.”

“Good…”

That’s all I got, just a tiny exhale of a word, a little quirk of his lips that was there and gone again in seconds, but it felt like everything. I sat down beside his bed, holding his hand and watching him sleep until visiting time was over. Then I whispered that I’d see him tomorrow and I headed home.

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