Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Greer did not believe for a second that just because the train departed Newquay Station without incident that he, Penny, and Lord Fabian were out of the woods.
“There’s no need to keep yourself tied in knots,” Penny told him once they were well away from the seaside town, the Cornish countryside flying past the windows, whose blinds Penny had opened. “Hammond won’t pursue us from here.”
Greer crossed his arms and grunted. “He might not pursue us immediately, but he’ll continue to search for us, and for Lord Fabian.”
Both Greer and Penny glanced to Lord Fabian, who had curled into a ball on the seat beside Penny. The tragic young man hugged himself tightly, but still trembled like he was exposed in the middle of winter.
Now that rescue was no longer their first and only priority, Greer began to notice things about the young man.
His features were fine and patrician, but he was severely undernourished.
He might have always been slight, but as the flickering dawn light bathed him, Greer couldn’t help but worry the young man looked almost corpse-like.
His skin was sickeningly pale, and not even the clothing Penny had stolen for him could entirely hide the bruises around his wrists and ankles.
The wound around the young man’s ankle was particularly worrying. It stood out starkly over the top of the ill-fitting shoes Penny had found for him. The area was so red and sore that Lord Fabian hadn’t been able to tolerate putting on a sock.
But Greer suspected the pain from the young man’s ankle was the least of the things that were causing his face to contort with pain.
“How long has Dalhurst been dosing you with opium?” Greer asked as kindly as he could.
Lord Fabian didn’t answer. That in itself spoke volumes.
All of it taken together, the shaking, the pale, clammy skin, the way Lord Fabian gripped himself, particularly his stomach, the insensibility…
all if it told Greer that the man was in the throes of delirium tremens.
There was no way to tell when was the last time he’d been given opium, but Greer was willing to bet it was long enough ago to hurt the poor young man.
Greer and Penny watched Lord Fabian for several long minutes, waiting to see if he would answer, or even seem more aware of his surroundings. Those signs never materialized.
“What do you suppose Brutus and Titus will do with him?” Penny asked quietly as the mood in the compartment grew heavier and heavier.
Greer shook his head and shrugged. “I couldn’t say.”
“Surely, there must be a way to cure someone of an addiction to opium,” Penny said, voice hollow.
He glanced over and met Greer’s eyes. The understanding Penny’s green eyes held pierced like an arrow in Greer’s heart. He didn’t know a single soul who had ever completely recovered from opium addiction.
“Brutus and Titus would not have charged us with rescuing the man if they did not have plans in place for his rehabilitation,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely confident in that.
His confidence sank farther once they actually made it back to London and The Zagreus Den. The journey itself was mostly uneventful, but coaxing Lord Fabian out of the train and through the station to a hired hack ended up being a harrowing event.
“No,” Lord Fabian mumbled and struggled against Penny as he tried to pull the man away from his seat. “No, I don’t want to go. Help me! Help!”
“It’s alright, my lord,” Penny tried in vain to reassure him. “We’re taking you someplace safe.”
“Please, please, no,” Lord Fabian wept once Penny finally wrestled him out of the train.
“He’s not well,” Greer explained to the startled bystanders who witnessed Lord Fabian’s sobbing. “We’re taking him to hospital.”
The lie brought compassion from some quarters but sneers and avoidance from others. Greer wouldn’t have minded either way, but there was a risk that someone in the station would recognize the young lordling, or that the police would be called.
“If we can just get him into a carriage, we’ll be fine,” Penny said with a smile, partly for Greer, partly for the people who looked on, and partly in an attempt to soothe Lord Fabian.
They managed to escort him slowly through the station and out to the street, but they gained far too much attention in doing so. On top of that, the first two carriages for hire refused to take them, since Lord Fabian had turned hysterical.
“No! Let go of me! I want to go home! Please!” he shouted, struggling against Penny and Greer.
“He’s not well,” Greer explained again to the startled people who passed them, frightened or pitying.
At last, a driver accepted them and Lord Fabian was piled into the carriage. He settled a bit for the short journey to Tyburnia, then caused another scene when he was moved out of the carriage and into The Zagreus Den.
“You’ve returned,” Caius greeted them at the door, his kind eyes wide with surprise. “And is that Lord Fabian you have with you?”
“We have what’s left of him,” Greer said sadly.
Caius’s expression immediately softened to compassion. “Bring him this way at once. Brutus and Titus are in the banquet hall, but I’ll have them fetched upstairs.”
Grateful beyond telling, Greer followed Caius down the hall, then through a side corridor to another section of the building. They half-carried Lord Fabian up a flight of stairs, then down a second corridor to an empty bedroom.
“Do you require food or medical care?” Caius asked as Greer and Penny brought Lord Fabian over to a simple but soft bed and helped him to lie down there. As soon as he was on the bed, Lord Fabian curled into a tight, trembling ball, crying and squirming restlessly.
“Food. God, yes,” Penny said, sagging back to sit on the end of the bed once Lord Fabian was out of his arms. “And a bed of my own to sleep in for a hundred years.”
He was joking, but Caius nodded and said, “Very good, sir,” then turned to go.
Greer stood where he was, watching Lord Fabian for several long moments. The poor thing was so pitiful that it broke his heart. “Who could do this to another man?” he asked no one in particular.
Part of him wanted to raise a fist to the heavens and demand that whatever god would allow this sort of misery in someone so innocent show himself so that Greer could give him a piece of his mind.
“At least he’s safe now,” Penny said with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face.
They rested there for no more than a few minutes before there was a knock at the door.
Greer, who had sunk into a chair by the window, rose as the door opened.
Brutus stepped through, his face a mask of concern.
Titus was with him, but so was the enigmatic Valentine, as well as Jonathan Moorgate and his boy, Charlie.
“My God,” Brutus said, pausing in horror at the sight of Lord Fabian, then rushing to the bed to have a closer look. “I knew he was being mistreated, but this is beyond any of the reports that reached my ears.”
“Is he cold?” Titus asked, reaching out to lay a hand on Lord Fabian’s leg. “He’s shaking.”
“No!” Lord Fabian shouted, flailing as he uncurled from his ball and lashed out. “Please, no! Don’t touch me! I don’t want it!”
“There, there,” Brutus said, crouching so his face was more level with Lord Fabian’s. “You’re safe now, Lord Fabian. You’ve been rescued.”
“Please, no!” Lord Fabian began to thrash in a feeble attempt to fight. “Don’t touch me!”
“Fabian,” Brutus said, resting a hand on the young man’s calf.
Lord Fabian sucked in a breath and froze, his eyes going wide as he stared at Brutus. “You,” he whispered at last, then burst into tears.
“You’re safe now,” Brutus said. He looked like he wanted to embrace the man, but he held himself back.
Greer’s eyes stung with tears before he was aware emotion had gotten the better of him. He only had to suffer his misery at the sight of Lord Fabian alone for a moment, though. Penny moved from the end of the bed to throw his arms around him, both seeking to comfort and be comforted.
Greer hugged him as hard as he could, grasping the back of Penny’s head and holding him close.
He could have lost Penny in the chaos they’d been through.
Penny could have been captured by Dalhurst and Hammond and subjected to everything Lord Fabian had been through and more.
It was a miracle that the two of them were still together.
He wouldn’t ever let Penny go now. He wouldn’t let fate or the law or even his own pride come between the two of them ever again or prevent them from being together.
On the heels of those thoughts, Charlie stepped forward and knelt beside the bed. “Fabian?” he spoke the young man’s name softly.
Lord Fabian stopped his squirming. His eyes moved wildly, searching for Charlie, even though the lad was right in front of him. As soon as his gaze focused on Charlie, he burst into tears and reached for him. Brutus moved aside to let him.
“Charlie,” he wept. “Charlie, save me.”
“You are saved,” Charlie said, stretching his upper body across the bed and grabbing hold of Lord Fabian. “We have you now. You’ve been rescued. You are safe.”
It was the same thing Brutus had told him, but coming from Charlie, the young nobleman seemed to believe it.
His weeping took on an entirely different feeling, deep and cathartic rather than frightened and desperate.
Charlie climbed all the way onto the bed with him and embraced the damaged young man with his whole body.
“Perhaps we should leave them be for a moment,” Titus said, taking a step back from the bed.
“A good idea,” Brutus nodded, then stood straight and backed up as well. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the young lordling, though.
“As much as I hate leaving Charlie alone,” Jonathan said, watching the pair on the bed as well, “something tells me it would be best to leave the young men to themselves for the moment.”