Chapter 20
EDWIN
“He has what?” Dalziel had been coming down the stairs with Stephen. Both men ground to a halt at my proclamation. Dalziel tsked and motioned for me to stand back. “You heard the man, give him some space. James, when Eddie says ‘pointy’, how pointy does he mean?”
“I mean full-on fucking elf,” I grunted, knowing I should let James speak for himself.
How had I not discovered this before now?
He kept his hair longish and shaggy over his ears, and he was skittish, unsurprisingly, so I’d always taken my cues from him.
I’d never showered with him either, again wanting to give him the space and privacy he needed, so perhaps it wasn’t such a shock after all.
Stephen, of all people, stepped between me and James.
I barely restrained myself from snatching him and throwing him across the hallway.
He looked straight at James and said softly, “May we see? Edwin can be an annoying fool, but his powers of observation are refined, so I suspect you might not be entirely human. It would be better for you to know one way or the other.”
“Talk about damned with faint praise,” I bitched, shocked he’d paid me a compliment, almost.
James took a step to the side. “Eddie,” he whispered. I muscled in front of Stephen.
“I’m sorry,” I offered. “I was so surprised I didn’t think about being overheard.”
“Accepted,” he grated, his throat bobbing. I could sense anxiety coming off him like a dense pea-souper fog from the olden days and felt miserable for him. “What can I do?”
He exhaled heavily. “My mum always told me never to let folk see. She said they’d make my life a misery.” He scoffed. “Barely remember owt about her, but I remember this.”
“Nobody here will judge you.” Stephen made it sound like a vow. I’d spent so little time in his presence over the past few decades, I’d forgotten how his voice had been one of the things that had originally attracted me to him.
“He’s right, you know.” And there hell went, freezing over as for the second time in a minute, one of us said something decent about the other. “Will you show me, love?”
James sighed, but lifted his hands to his head. He scraped back the heavy fall of hair and held it behind him. “There.”
Dalziel’s low whistle echoed my own thoughts. Stephen was less delicate. “Bloody hell, you’re Fae.”
James looked like he was about to cry. Was he seriously surprised about this?
I supposed he must be. Oh, yes, he was trembling, poor baby.
I hastily wrapped myself around him, smoothing down his ruffled hair and turning him into my chest to offer him the protection of a safe place to shed any stray tears.
We’d all know if he cried anyway, but he deserved a semblance of dignity.
I glared at Stephen. “Don’t be an arse. His ears are way smaller than your average Fae.
He can’t be full Fae. We’d have sensed it. He smells human. Doesn’t he, Dalziel?”
“Who smells human? Hello, what’s going on?” Baxter took in the scene in an instant, coming to a reasonable conclusion. “James? Has someone upset you? Said you’re not human? How can I make ’em hurt?”
“James has some rather pointed characteristics that suggest he could be Fae.” Stephen, back to being the pompous twat I was used to.
“Don’t be fucking dense, Ste. James smells totally different to Isher.
He ain’t Fae, are you poppet?” Baxter somehow slid her arm under mine and chucked James under the chin.
His watery gaze snagged on her curious brown one.
“You might have an itty bit of Fae flavouring, lawd knows, plenty of folk do, but you ain’t the full deal, babes.
We’d have smelled it. What’s got everyone in a pickle? ”
James showed her. Her mouth dropped open in an O.
“Blimey. Did not see that coming. God help us all if you ever get a haircut. You’ll be beating boys, girls and everyone in-between off with a stick.
You’re so fucking adorable, it should be illegal.
” She glowered at Dalziel and Stephen. “You two, eff off out of it. The boy’s had a shock.
Eddie and I’ll take him down to the office and see what we can find out. All right, lads?”
With me holding James firmly as we watched Baxter’s fingers fly over her keyboards, his breathing slowed to an acceptable rate. Baxter brought up numerous screens, then asked him for his full name and date of birth.
“James Valentine Wilson, fourteenth of Febr—”
“Your birthday’s Valentine’s Day?” I said, filing it away in my brain.
He scowled. “Yeah. Hence the stupid middle name. Being a ginger kid, with that name, the bullies had a field day. God knows what my mum was thinking.”
“It’s a gorgeous name, sweets.” Baxter typed it in. “And you’re twenty-four next birthday, right?” He confirmed that, and his place of birth as somewhere he explained was on the outskirts of Bradford. “I’ve got my birth certificate somewhere, I think.”
“No matter. I can go far deeper than you usually can on the main records office.” Baxter paused, then enlarged a screen.
“Mother, Shirley Wilson, aged twenty-two when you were born, machinist for Bleddoe I felt guilty for having fed from him. I pressed a little packet of cheese I’d found in the fridge into his free hand.
“You need to keep your strength up.”
He rolled his eyes, but I knew James. Cheese was a definite weakness. It was gone well before the tea.
“So, what have you found?” I asked Baxter.
“Not a great deal, to be honest. Shirley has an older brother, Mark, who currently lives on the southern edge of Sheffield. James says he didn’t even know he had an uncle, let alone what his name was.
He says he doesn’t remember his grandparents either, but seeing as their current address is less than a mile from Uncle Marky, methinks Shirley might have been the black sheep of the Wilson family. ”
“If she was an unmarried mother, there are plenty of families out there who still think this is a sin, or shameful,” I ventured.
The memory of my own mum having impressed upon me at a very tender age that if anybody were to enquire about my father, I was to look sad and tell them he died and I didn’t remember him was a sting that had never quite gone away.
James sighed again. “I reckon you’re right. Mum hated religion. Said I wasn’t to pay attention to any of it.” His next sigh was accompanied by a throat clearing as he freed himself from my grasp and took a seat next to Baxter.
“Do you think…Would you be able to…” He took a couple of shallow breaths, his pulse quickening.
“Find out how your mum and your grandparents are doing, pet?” He nodded. “Course I can. In fact, I already did, in case you asked.” Baxter pushed the empty mug to one side and hooked a leg around James’ chair, pulling it closer to her and the screens.