Chapter 25 #2
It was a surreal experience to watch my little orchard, usually bound to the earth as was right and normal, defy its collective nature.
One by one, Marlowe coaxed each tree from its home with promises of a refuge in a new, safer place.
His magic was very different from my own.
Powerful and rooted in the land he commanded, it made me uneasy even as I stood in awe of his abilities.
As he worked — all I could do was jump into the lorry bed and help him shuffle the trees into place as they tottered to the top of the makeshift ramp — I had plenty of time to unpick my feelings about his magic.
Turned out I wasn’t so much uneasy as downright envious.
And that didn’t sit well with me. Sighing, I pushed my jealousy deep down to deal with at a later time, forced a cheerful expression onto my mug, and got on with the job in hand.
As I drove down the roads towards Poplar in the dead of night, Marlowe had a text exchange with Edwin, who was waiting with James to offer assistance their end. He chuckled as another message came through. “Good heavens, he’s offering to make me a meal. Should I be worried?”
I snorted, fully aware of how Edwin had bitched about bagged blood when we’d stayed at Dalziel’s Lanarkshire country home, then how his devotion to James had finally extended to making a decent cuppa. “Fairly sure he’s volunteering James to make any food. Don’t fret, you won’t get poisoned.”
Something in my tone must have given him pause for thought. There was silence in the cab for a few minutes, then, “Which one of them has taken your interest? If you don’t mind my asking.”
This time, my sigh was embarrassingly dreamy. “Both of them. They’re a couple, kind of, but it’s…complicated.” No way was I telling anyone any details and especially not about James, about whom I was already fiercely protective.
I didn’t have to explain. Marlowe sucked in a breath through his teeth.
“I can only imagine that Edwin is having to tread very carefully with James. James seems strong from the little I gleaned of his true personality in the time I was with him, but he must be struggling to deal with the after-effects of…well, him.” It seemed Marlowe was as reluctant as James to speak Cormack’s name.
I didn’t blame him. I wanted nothing more than for the fucker to have never existed.
The next best thing would be for James to live a long, beautiful life and for the vampire’s name to be consigned to the depths of obscurity.
Edwin and James made an amusing, if decorative pair of garden ornaments, their stunned expressions matching as Marlowe unloaded the trees in a reversal of the uploading.
His magic didn’t extend to keeping a dozen sturdy trunks waving gently like stoned dancers for long, or not without expending a lot of extra energy, so he directed them to lean against the garage wall.
I quickly explained to James about mage magic, before he and Edwin shook themselves free of their rabbits-in-the-headlights stance and the three of us began feverishly digging holes for the trees.
I wondered briefly if we’d be unlucky enough that a neighbour would choose tonight to pop round and see things they couldn’t explain.
I must have been telegraphing my thoughts on my face because Edwin asked what was wrong. I told him.
“Trace, mate, if it happens, I can use thrall and they’d forget they’d ever got out of bed.
Don’t worry about it.” His grin was wide and wicked, sparking a flame low down in the vicinity of my shorts.
It didn’t help that James, I assumed, had persuaded Edwin to forgo elegance for practicality this time.
His outfit of threadbare denim and an old T-shirt with the sleeves ripped out was making it hard to concentrate on the in-and-out, dig-and-dump action of the spade in my hands.
Mud streaked his wrists and forearms, sticking to him courtesy of the previous forty-eight hours of soft drizzle that had soaked the soil.
The trees would love it, but we were all already caked with the stuff.
“Trace?”
I blinked at him. “What?”
This time, his smile was sly and full of sexual promise. “Were you perving on my assets?” He ran a deliberate hand over his crotch. “These jeans are very worn in places, aren’t they?”
I glared at him and stuck my nose in the air, aware of my ears heating up. “Get over yourself, you vain peacock. You probably sanded the fabric yourself.” I indicated the half-dug pit in front of him. “I can’t plant anything in a hole that small.”
“Oh, Trace. You’re lining them up for me now, love.” His expression was feral, fangs glinting in the moonlight. “We can work it open until it’s whatever size you think will allow that large, erect wood to slide in tightly.”
“Christ, you two.” James’ voice carried low and amused across the garden. “Give it a rest. If you could maybe stop eye fucking each other for a while, we might get these trees planted before dawn.”
Marlowe attempted to turn a laugh into a cough. “I can bring another one through now if you’re ready.”
We worked steadily, one tree after another, until the last one wobbled its way across the expanse of mud from the garage under Marlowe’s muttered guidance, and sank carefully into the bed of compost with what sounded like a sigh of relief. It was echoed by all of us.
I leaned my spade against the nearest trunk and inhaled then exhaled slowly as I took a look around.
Unrecognisable from the plain expanse of lawn it had been on my first visit, it had finally taken on the look of a mature garden.
Some of the areas still needed to be planted with crops I’d delayed even thinking about once I’d known I’d be moving, but with a little magical coercion, I could overcome most of the delays.
My fruit trees were what I’d been most worried about, but Marlowe evidently had some seriously green thumbs as part of his abilities.
Although it was too soon to be sure, none of them looked as though I’d wake up tomorrow to find their leaves strewn on the ground and my hoped-for harvest a non-starter.
I found him watching me, presumably hoping I was happy.
“I can’t thank you enough,” I said. “This is, well, it’s amazing. If I can ever do anything to repay you—”
“I know where to find you.” He seemed uncomfortable being thanked, but cheered up when I offered him the use of my bathroom to clean up.
He wasn’t as messy as the rest of us, but he wasn’t exactly fragrant either.
He grabbed a bag from the lorry, then I led him inside, showed him the bathroom, and left him to it.
I found Edwin and James sitting side by side on the steps by their front door. They made to stand as I approached, but I shook my head.
“I’m not staying long. I just wanted to thank you for all your help, again.” I rubbed my nose which was itchy, aware I’d probably added yet more dirt to my face. “I’m next in line for the shower. I have dirt in places it has no right being.”
James chuckled. “You’re not wrong. I didn’t realise how two days’ light rain could turn a small field into a mud bath. Right, Eddie?” He flicked his gaze towards Edwin with an accompanying nudge of his elbow.
Edwin turned his head slightly but barely looked at him, his blue eyes suddenly flat and distant.
“That’s really not a mud bath.” He acknowledged me with a terse nod.
“Please excuse me, I’m going to take the first shower.
” He got to his feet in the instantaneous, fluid manner of vampires everywhere and, kicking off his boots at the door, disappeared swiftly inside.
“What did we say?” I stared at James, baffled by Edwin’s demeanour. “Is he really upset about all the trees arriving?” I felt like saying It’s a bit bloody late to be bothered now, but I didn’t want to make this about me if he was having trouble dealing with the changes.
James patted the step. “Sit down? I can hear you better if you’re closer.”
I wasn’t sure that was a valid reason when he seemed to be hearing me fine, but I wasn’t passing up the chance when he’d offered. Keeping my body angled towards him, I asked again, “What do you think’s upset Eddie?”
James’ expression was glum. “I don’t know. But I can guess.”
“Go on.”
“It is only a guess. It might have been my use of the words ‘mud bath’. He’s quite touchy about the war.
” I must have looked surprised because he continued, “World War One. I’ve been doing some reading up about it.
He fought in the trenches. From what I can tell, it was a literal hell on Earth.
There’s a lot of accounts of folks saying their fathers, uncles, and grandfathers never spoke about it, like, not once, when they got home.
They saw stuff they could never unsee.” He shuddered.
“Can you imagine trying to fire a gun or keep watch in the pissing rain and cold when you’re hungry and homesick, with rats running about?
Fuck, I’m not squeamish or even that bothered they exist, but I don’t want to shack up with them.
And that’s before seeing your mate get his arm or leg or half his head blown off. Or the constant booming of the guns.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” I offered weakly. “I imagine a lot of what we think of as throwaway words might bring up memories a veteran would rather forget.”
“He tries to bury stuff, I know he does,” James said, his eyebrows a tight furrow.
“Even good stuff. I think that’s why he spent so long dancing and drinking and fucking anything that moved, as a way of blocking out the bad shit.
” He dropped his head into his hands, his next words muffled.
“I’m worried that being…settled, like this, with me and you, means he’s got more time to think.
Perhaps it’s eating him up. Maybe I’m not good for him. ” His voice was small and sad.