Chapter 30
THIRTY
ROMAN
Eddie is dead.
His throat gapes ugly and red, and I have no doubt that there is zero chance that he’s going to rear up like a monster in a horror movie.
I don’t feel sorry that he’s dead.
It was him or us.
‘Thank you,’ I say with a groan as I drag myself to my feet. There’s not a bit of me that doesn’t ache.
I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with a champion boxer. And lost. Miserably.
Which, to be fair, isn’t far off.
Eddie’s blood has started to pool around him, in an arc of dark, gleaming red. I keep waiting for him to move. For this all to have been some kind of joke. For Eliza to say gotcha and reveal it’s all some hidden-camera show trickery.
She doesn’t.
Maggie is grey. Like someone’s drained the colour straight out of her. There’s blood on her lip and her dress.
I want to go to her. To. Wrap her in my arms and tell her this will all be okay. But how can it be?
In stark contrast, Eliza looks absolutely fine. Like this was just a little inconvenience in an otherwise excellent party.
She crouches beside Eddie, turning him over and analysing his neck with interest.
‘A clean cut for such a long throw, if I do say so myself.’
Maggie makes a small, strangled noise at that. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
I open my mouth to try to reassure her, but before I can, the air fills with wings.
There’s a rush as Coffin swoops down and lands on Eddie’s chest. He winks at me.
‘Oh no,’ I mutter. ‘Absolutely not.’
Too late.
There’s a wet, crunching sound as Coffin plucks his beak into Eddie’s open eye. With a sharp yank, the crow pulls the eye from its socket, the nerves stretching until they snap.
I stare, horrified, as Coffin hops back triumphantly, one glossy eyeball clutched in his beak like a prize.
Maggie retches violently and unloads her stomach onto the floor.
‘What now?’ I ask Eliza.
She wipes her hands on her dress like she’s been baking a cake rather than dealing out death. ‘We need to move him.’
‘Move him where?’ I ask, already knowing I won’t like the answer.
She looks at me like I’m an idiot. ‘The pig pen.’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘I am not becoming an accessory to a murder at a wedding.’ I insist.
‘That ship has sailed, Bucko. Plus, it’s not like there will be a trial.’
‘I can’t.’ But when I look at Maggie, I know I’ll have to. She’s in no position to help.
‘Don’t be such a fanny,’ she says. ‘Help me lift him.’
Maggie looks up at me, eyes huge and terrified. ‘Roman…’
I take a breath, my body screaming at me as I move. My ribs ache as I bend, but adrenaline pushes me onwards.
‘What about his family?’ I ask. Someone has to be thinking about consequences.
Eliza pauses. ‘Yes. That might be tricky.’
That’s it. That’s the entire consideration.
‘Okay. The plan. We deny all knowledge of seeing Eddie leave the party. You two were upstairs banging each other’s brains out.
His family aren’t staying tonight, so they’ll assume he left early, as he’s been sulking all day.
Then we send you two fuckers back to London and hope they blame someone else. Dad will sort the rest.’
‘You’re going to tell him?’ Maggie looks gaunt.
‘Of course I am.’
I blink at her. ‘That plan’s insane.’
‘You gotta better one?’ Eliza has a point. I most certainly do not.
Eliza turns to Maggie to give her an order. ‘Mags. You stay here. Clean up this mess before anyone notices, then get up to your room and make enough noise that people think you are giving Roman the time of his life. Cry later. There’s no time for tears now.’
‘I don’t think I can clean all this up. I don’t even think I’ve ever seen where a mop lives in this house.’
Damn. You’ve got to be rich to not even know where the cleaning supplies are in your childhood home.
‘I’ll text Tuck to come help. He won’t spread gossip around the staff, and he’s helped me with… incidents… before.’ Eliza pulls out her phone and sends a message.
Maggie hesitates, then nods numbly and sits on the bottom step, looking anywhere except at the gaping hole in Eddie’s face. Would Coffin come back for seconds?
I grab Eddie’s ankles while Eliza takes his shoulders. We start dragging him down the corridor, my shoes slipping on a puddle of god only knows what.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ I mutter as I skid, nearly going down myself.
‘Try not to die,’ Eliza chirps. ‘One corpse is plenty.’
We haul Eddie out into the cold night air via an old servant’s entrance at the back of the house. The music from inside fills the air with disjointed glass, clashing with the dark acts we commit.
By the time the pig pen looms ahead, I’m sorer than I think I’ve ever been.
The pigs are already stirring.
I gag. ‘They’re coming closer.’
‘They know dinner when they smell it.’
We tip Eddie in, and the pigs surge forward, excitedly snorting and nudging at Eddie with their twitching snouts.
I turn away sharply, not needing to add anymore images to my brain tonight.
Eliza watches me for a long moment, then smirks. ‘Well, Roman. Welcome to the family.’
I scrub a hand over my face.
‘I assume Maggie hasn’t left you completely in the dark. You don’t seem quite as shocked as you ought to be.’
‘Not entirely,’ I say hoarsely.
She tilts her head. ‘And you still like her?’ The question hits harder than the bat did.
‘Yes.’ And I do. But enough to deal with all of this? I don’t know.
‘Huh. I may have underestimated you.’
I have a sinking feeling that my life, as I once knew it, is well and truly over.