Chapter 37
37
A nother glass and a half of scotch later, a gaggle of people crowded into the study, giggling and talking excitedly, and Sidney took that as his cue to leave. He put his empty cup on the sideboard and went back out into the hall.
The crush of people was so dense, that he almost immediately retreated into the study again. This was not the kind of party he did well in. What kind of party did he do well in? He tried to imagine one as he twisted toward the less sparsely populated side of the hall and started down it, looking for another set of stairs to the upper floor, back toward Leo’s room and solitude.
He wished he was back in the garden cottage. And then he tried to make himself not wish it. He didn’t actually have to be at the party, he just had to survive until the morning when he could call a cab to take him back to the train station. To Bainbridge and his old life. A life that would pale in comparison, now that he knew how much else might be out there.
That didn’t matter. A world with assholes like Asterion and liars like Jonas was not something he wanted to be a part of.
Sidney passed a waiter with another tray of the citrus and honey drinks, and took one just before turning a corner where he almost immediately ran directly into a beautiful man.
He was as tall as Sidney, willowy, with pale skin and a sweep of thick golden hair across his forehead. He wore a well-tailored black suit which was now covered in sparkling cocktail. The man’s cheeks were flushed in surprise.
“Oh my God!” Sidney exclaimed, his free hand flying to cover his mouth. “I am so sorry!”
Before the man could speak, they were flanked by waiters with napkins who began taking turns dabbing at the man’s waistcoat and glaring at Sidney.
“No, no. Really. It’s alright.” The man’s voice was low and soft. Kind. When he shot an apologetic glance at Sidney over the heads of the waiters, Sidney felt himself blush. He was more tipsy than he’d realized. “Really, gentlemen, really. It’s quite alright. I promise. I won’t melt.” The man gave them a final shoo with his hands, and begrudgingly the waiters left.
“I really apologize.”
“It’s a house party,” the man said with a shrug. “I have three more just like it upstairs. Besides, whatever you were drinking smells delicious.”
“I think it must be a house cocktail or something. All the waiters have them.”
“Well, then, I know how you can repay me for the inconvenience.” The man smiled. Sidney’s stomach turned over and he did his best to ignore it. Leo had been the one to suggest rebound. Sidney hadn’t thought that he would want to. No prospects. No interest.
But spite was a funny thing, and Sidney’s mind was buzzing. Maybe a distraction from the dull ache in his chest was precisely what he needed. It didn’t have to mean anything. Apparently when Sidney thought things meant something he was wrong, so adjusting his aim a bit would be a recipe for success. That made sense.
And if Jonas could fool around with someone else, Sidney could do the same thing. Maybe Sidney could find a way to keep studying the other celestial skies after all.
“One moment.”
Sidney had to go two steps around the corner to find another waiter carrying drinks. As Sidney lifted two drinks off the tray, a bitter voice in his head said that by the time he got back around the corner, the handsome man would be gone. It had just been a ruse to get him to leave. No one wanted Sidney. But, he told himself firmly, if that was the case, then at least Sidney would get two drinks out of it. And that was good too.
The blonde man was still there and his smile widened as Sidney handed him the drink.
“Cheers,” he said. The edges of their coupes clinked and the man took a sip. His eyes were the darkest brown Sidney had ever seen, almost black, and fixed on Sidney.
“I’m Sidney,” Sidney said. He sounded like he was about twelve years old, introducing himself to the cutest boy at the school dance, but the man gave a gentle chuckle.
“I’m Zac. Zachariah Mears. Call me Zac, please.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Sidney said, offering his spare hand. Zac’s handshake was firm, calloused on the side of his palm.
“Where were you off to in such a hurry?” Zac’s fingers trailed against Sidney’s as their hands dropped apart. Thinner than Jonas’s. He’d had too much to drink. He took another sip of his cocktail.
“I was going back to my room,” he said, gesturing vaguely upward. And that sounded like an invitation, didn’t it? He blushed and pressed on. “Parties like this aren’t really my strong suit.”
“Mine either.” Zac’s smile was handsome, but not as wide as Jonas’s. “If you’re looking for someplace to hide out there’s a conservatory at the end of this hall,” he gestured behind him. “It’s quite beautiful, even at night. They have it all strung up with lights.”
“Sounds lovely,” Sidney said.
“I’d be happy to show you. I know a bit about flowers.”
“A gardener?” Sidney asked. He couldn’t imagine this man digging in a flower bed, dirt under his pristine fingernails, uprooting goldenrod by the fistful like Jonas. Zac turned and started back down the hall, and somehow, Sidney fell into step beside him.
“I’m a botanist,” Zac said. Sidney brightened immeasurably. He knew how to talk to other scientists.
“That’s fascinating!” Zac smiled at him.
“It’s not often that gets such an enthusiastic reaction.”
“I’ve always loved the natural sciences. I’m an astronomer. I teach at Holyworth College,” Sidney said.
“Oh, really? Where’s that?”
“Just down in Bainbridge.” Zac shook his head, no recognition on his face.
“Sorry, I’m not from here,” Zac said, as he pushed open the door to the conservatory.
The room was verdant and several degrees warmer than the hall. Tall leafy plants stretched up around them, and the high panes of glass that made up the pointed panel of the roof were all draped in twinkling lights that framed the starry night sky.
On the far side was a sitting area, where a glass top table held more sweet and savory appetizers. The same petit fours Sidney had wolfed down in the hall filled an overflowing plate.
“I guess not many people have made it back this far yet,” Sidney said.
“More treats for us,” Zac chuckled, starting toward the spread.
“You said you’re not from here?” Sidney asked, as Zac began to fill a plate.
“No.” Zac didn’t meet his eye, busy getting food.
“Where are you from?” Sidney pressed. Zac looked over at him then, hand frozen in the air halfway to some mini tarts. He cocked an eyebrow in Sidney’s direction. And two half-ideas congealed into something whole. This man wasn’t human. Sidney stiffened. “I know about magic. Faeries and things.”
“Ah,” Zac straightened up. Then with a shake of his shoulders, the man in front of Sidney was transformed. His skin was a deep crimson, the color of welling blood, and his golden hair turned ash grey, laced with strands of shining silver. Horns spiraled out six inches on either side of his head, white at the base and grey at the tips. His black suit looked even more striking now. And Sidney could see one white fang pressed against the corner of his lip. Did Jonas have fangs? Sidney hadn’t seen. He wished he had. No. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t thinking about Jonas now.
“I appreciate you telling me,” Zac said, returning to the tarts. “Those glamours are damned uncomfortable.”
“Are they?” Sidney asked. Jonas had kept his up all the time. That was how much he didn’t want Sidney to know the truth about him. Sidney sniffed, irritated. Zac didn’t seem to notice. He turned his back, trying to balance his plate, setting the coupe down on the table. “Oh, can I take anything from you?”
“No, I’ve got it.” Zac gave a small grunt, and then turned back around. He stepped close to Sidney, offering him the plate of treats. “I’ve heard the petit fours are particularly good.”
Drinking alone wasn’t something Jonas liked to make a habit of, so his tolerance had decreased considerably over the recent decades. As a result he was currently extremely, almost uncomfortably, drunk.
Jonas slouched against the high table in the library, staring down at charts he’d offered Sidney that morning. Sidney’s own charts were there too, rolled up beside him. There were fingerprints near one bent corner of the roll, the whorls of Sidney’s thumb and fingers, hands that had traced the skin of Jonas’s body, a horrible, tempting reminder of his existence.
After another hour or more, Jonas might have passed out or dropped off, he pushed himself up out of his seat. He wasn’t so young that he could sleep in chairs and not feel the effects of it the next day. In his time in the military, magic had kept him rejuvenated. Forever youthful. Healers cleaned him up after fights, and he knew enough to wipe a hangover from his brain. But this, what he’d done to himself, it would hurt tomorrow. Jonas relished the thought, as he dragged his feet through the kitchen and into the foyer. Hurting physically would distract him from the pain of losing Sidney.
There was still spilled food all across the foyer floor. Jonas staggered to a halt and stared down at it. Chocolate milkshake puddle had sunk beneath the treads of his boots. His hamburger had slid into its component parts across the rug. Jonas’s stomach growled. Truly, there was no point in trying to feel less awful, so he ignored his hunger. He ignored everything because he had to give all his attention to making it up the stairs to the landing. Then into his bedroom. Into a bed that would still smell like Sidney.
The thought made him growl in frustration. The guest room was out as well. Sidney’s bag was probably still in there. His clothes. Somehow, after little more than a week, Sidney permeated everything in Jonas’s house. He was a part of the place. A part of the routine of Jonas’s life, a routine that Jonas never thought he’d be able to fit another person into again. Sidney managed it though. And it had been easy. And Jonas ruined it.
A step forward and the banister was there to hold him up. Jonas turned slowly, and something red caught the corner of his eye out of the front window. When he moved his head to look back, he moved too fast. For a moment, his vision spun, and when it congealed into reality again, Jonas still didn’t believe it.
His truck was parked outside. The truck Sidney had left in. Which meant Sidney had come back. The truck was back, so Sidney had to be back. There wasn’t anything else that made sense.
Jonas stumbled trying to step off the bottom stair and dropped to a knee, scrambling to get himself upright again. His legs were impossibly heavy, but he still heaved himself to the front door and yanked it open. The cold was bracing, and as effective at sobering him up as dunking his head in a bucket of ice water. Jonas held himself up against the doorframe and let the cold October wind rush over his skin and into his house. He took two deep breaths, and then started forward again.
What was he going to say to Sidney? How to apologize. Where to begin? Let me explain. I’m so sorry. Jonas fumbled, tripping over nothing and caught himself on the window of the driver’s side door. He winced, another apology ready on his tongue. A rude awakening for poor Sidney who was sleeping inside the cab of the truck.
Sidney wasn’t there.
Jonas pressed his face against the glass. The truck was empty. The key was on the seat, as well as Sidney’s satchel, his notebook poking out of the top of it. Sidney wouldn’t have left Hindry without his notebook.
Jonas pulled open the door to the truck and leaned inside. The lights from Elmmond House in the distance caught on the key as he fumbled in the dark. And then he stopped.
The cold was doing wonders for his sobriety. If Sidney hadn’t come back to the cottage, then there was only one place he could have gone. Jonas grabbed Sidney’s bag. Having it would be a weak reason for coming to find Sidney, but that didn’t matter in the slightest. Jonas would have taken any excuse. He had to find him. To apologize properly. To do anything to salvage what had blossomed between them.
Jonas closed the door of the truck and started toward Elmmond House.