The Stars Over Bittergate Bay

Chapter 38

38

I t had been a long time since Jonas had come into Elmmond House through the main door. He should have always been using the main door; Verne would have preferred it. But this time it proved to be a colossal mistake.

Jonas stepped into a packed foyer, his head spinning immediately as his drunken brain was assaulted with noise and music and the smell of food and drink and bodies. Well-dressed. Everyone was so well-dressed, and Jonas was in his garden clothes. He nearly backed right out the front door, but he caught himself, the strap of Sidney’s bag still clutched in his hand as he braced himself against the wall.

A footman he didn’t recognize approached him with an efficient and practical expression that morphed quickly into shock. Clearly he’d not been expecting the owner of the house. The young man’s step faltered, and he looked around as though he was hoping someone else with more experience would swing in and rescue him. Jonas could help with that.

“Where’s Verne?” he slurred.

“Ah. In the kitchens, sir.”

“Take me to him.” Jonas pushed himself off the wall, took two steps and was immediately intercepted by a short thin man with tan skin and a dark moustache. Jonas didn’t recognize him.

“Duke Rookwood? My lord.” He bowed reverently and Jonas winced. No. He could not navigate this.

“On second thought,” Jonas said to the footman, who had thankfully come closer, but was unhelpfully trying to take Sidney’s bag from Jonas’s fist. “I’ll wait for Verne in the—” he glanced toward the front parlor. Full of people. The library would also be full of people. As would the drawing room and likely also the study. There was an office upstairs that would be vacant, but then he would have to navigate stairs. “Where is there quiet?” The footman stammered, looking between Jonas and the man who was still bowing in front of him, clearly not wanting to interrupt.

“Uh, well, the west wing is—” West wing. Tea room. Conservatory. Armory.

“Have Verne meet me in the conservatory. I need a sobriety potion. A strong one. Double strength.”

“Yes, sir,” the footman said, and scurried off.

It was nice to have someone do his bidding. Jonas had forgotten about that. He ignored the bowing man. A social faux pas, but he didn’t care, as none of the people in that building, aside from Asterion, had bothered reaching out to him after he disappeared from their society all those years ago. Their good opinion didn’t matter. He needed to talk to Sidney. He needed to do it sober. More sober than he was at any rate. And Verne would know where Sidney was. Verne always knew where everything and everyone was in Elmmond House. Jonas really needed to give him a raise.

The crowd was dense, but Jonas’s size was useful in cutting a swath through it even as he kept one hand on the wall to steady himself. He knew the house (not as well as Verne, no one did) even though it had been a long time since he’d really been through it. In the crush of people, he could feel heads and eyes turned toward him, as he went down the hall. The odd man out by a nautical mile. Everyone was dressed to the nines. Everyone looked human. Except him. Oops.

Magical creatures didn’t reveal themselves until the night of the Ascension itself. Tomorrow. The costume party. The portals opened for a few days on either side of the alignment, but the humans weren’t really brought up to speed until the day of. Plenty of them already knew, of course. Jonas didn’t really care. Let the fae and the demons and whoever else was there in glamours make excuses for him. He had no intention of disguising himself again.

Jonas fumbled around a corner. Sidney’s bag caught on the edge of a table of appetizers. Jonas tugged, and a clatter of glass and food followed, as he staggered. People were scowling at him. Waiters and guests. Jonas winced, panic edging in at the corner of his consciousness. A day full of mistakes.

“Jonas.” A hand caught the center of Jonas’s chest as he lurched forward. Gently, Jonas was nudged against the wall, braced by a shoulder. Asterion’s voice was smooth and calm, laced around the edges with concern. “What are you doing, darling? Come on.” Asterion threaded his arm through Jonas’s elbow and pulled him into the nearest doorway. The back entrance to the billiards room. A half dozen people were milling about the pool table. Another seven were playing cards.

“May we have the room for a moment?” Asterion’s voice was loud, but he hadn’t shouted. The command dressed as a question shattered the camaraderie in the air as easily as Jonas had shattered the cake stand in the hall. Heads turned toward them and then, like a wave receding, everyone moved toward the doors.

Asterion dismissed his coterie with the shake of his head, and Jonas watched Ellery leave out the main door, where he knew she would stand watch outside.

Jonas braced his hands against the green felt, billiard balls duplicating in his vision and then reforming into one. Asterion was looking at him.

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Jonas hadn’t meant to mumble, but his tongue kept getting caught behind his teeth. He exhaled and forced himself to look up. Asterion was a shining, handsome blur. Then he was Asterion, his mouth curled into a frown. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to be?—”

“I know you didn’t.” Asterion’s voice was soft. “You never do.” The silence was heavy. Jonas wanted to shake it off but moving felt dangerous. Like he was liable to break something again. “You’ve done a number on yourself.”

“He came back,” Jonas said.

“I know.” Asterion rounded the table, slid his cool hand onto the back of Jonas’s neck. “I saw him.”

“He’s here?”

Asterion didn’t respond. His magic sunk into Jonas’s skin and burned the alcohol out of his bloodstream. It was like dipping a fingertip in melted wax, hot and then too hot. Fae magic wasn’t ever comfortable in demon veins, a thick thread forcing its way through a narrow needle. Jonas’s fingertips curled into the felt, as he gritted his teeth against a noise of pain. His head was clearing. Any errant sounds would be fuel for a gossipy fire that was sure to already be burning quite brightly.

“Sidney’s here,” Asterion confirmed, pulling his hand away. Jonas straightened up and winced against the searing headache at the front of his skull. Asterion was still frowning. “Better?” Jonas nodded.

“Thank you. Where is he?”

“Jonas—”

“I’m going to apologize.”

“Get your bearings first,” Asterion warned. That was ominous.

“Did you speak to him?” Jonas asked. Asterion pursed his lips. Oh no. “Asterion.”

“I was nice.” A sure sign that Asterion had not been nice. It was exasperating. The situation with Sidney didn’t need any more animosity. Still, a little voice in the back of his head, reminded Jonas that Asterion was truly his friend. Anything he’d threatened Sidney with had been well-intentioned. Jonas would have done the same thing had their roles been reversed. And Sidney was still here somewhere, which was all he really cared about.

Verne appeared, Ellery ushering him in with an arched eyebrow at Asterion. Asterion nodded his approval, which was ridiculous, as it was Jonas’s house.

“Here you are, sir.” Verne approached, two rounded glass bottles held in one hand.

“Thank you.” Jonas took one, though he likely didn’t need it after Asterion’s handiwork. Asterion was quite the master of sobriety spells. Still, he had asked for them, and it might help with the headache. He popped the cork with his thumb. “Where’s Sidney Quince?”

“Mr. Quince is in the conservatory,” Verne said. Jonas nodded and downed the potion in two gulps before handing the empty bottle back to Verne.

“Thank you,” Jonas said.

“Can I glamour you up a better outfit?” Asterion asked. Jonas shook his head.

“No more glamours.”

“You’ve caused quite a stir, you know,” Asterion said. “Coming in here all big and orangey.”

“Tell them I got drunk and was trying on my costume for tomorrow.”

“I already have,” Asterion smirked.

“I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“I know.” Asterion reached up and patted him on the cheek. “Good luck.”