Dian would bargain with him, not unless he was unable to take Cross’s body any other way.
Cross returned to his seat beside Pip. If his hunch was correct, Dian would not attack him.
Dian shifted restlessly. “He is beyond saving. Surely you don’t need me to tell you that.” His tone grew mocking. “You know from experience how fragile human bodies are.”
Cross grasped Pip’s hand. His pulse was noticeably fainter now. He looked to the bandage, a dark stain soaking through the cloth. Was the blood loss simply too great?
“Why do you delay? You avail him nothing, and only prolong your pain.” Dian sounded impatient. “Is it for Julian? He will not return in time.”
Cross looked up sharply. “What have you done to him?”
“I? Nothing.” Dian’s cape fluttered in the wind. “I had no need. Even if he takes to four paws, he will not make the journey and return in time.”
Cross narrowed his eyes. “You’d best be wary. Julian will not soon forget the part you played in the death of his father.”
“Is it for his sake you linger?” Dian’s smile was ironic. “You need not fear for him. I fancy I can console him for the loss of his fathers.”
Cross blinked. Was that it? Dian’s motivation not gaining a foothold in the mortal realm, but a claim on Julian… “You vastly underestimate both the strength of Julian’s attachments, and your own attractions.” Cross squeezed Pip’s hand, then released it. “You have a lot to learn about love, Lord Dian.” He reached into his jacket, pulling out the leather pouch.
“What are you doing?” Dian stared at him. “You must know that won’t work. You’ll die, and I’ll just claim him.”
“You can try.” Cross placed the pouch on Pip’s chest, above his heart, and placed his hand atop of it, holding it in place. “Somehow, I do not think you will succeed. I tell you that if you do, you can abandon any thought of Julian ever regarding you with anything but utmost abhorrence.” His head felt light. As if he was drunk.
“You’re a fool. Why would you do this?” Dian clenched his fists but made no attempt to step towards them. Held back by the crucifix Cross wore, and the one that Pip no doubt had somewhere on his person? “It avails you nothing. He cannot thank you. By the time he recovers, you will be cold.”
“It seems there is a lot you do not understand, Lord Dian.” Cross brushed Pip’s cheek. Some of the colour had returned to his skin, and it seemed, though it was hard to hear anything over the howling of the wind, that he breathed more easily. Cross pressed his lips to Pip’s one last time.
The wind battering at the walls of Foxwood Court sounded a lot like a howl of frustration. Cross paid it no mind. He sat, clasping Pip’s hand.
It was strange. He had been so afraid to leave Pip behind, but now the moment was at hand he felt only pride. Sorrow, it was true, but it was the pride that was foremost, pride in Pip’s determination, his courage, and most of all that it had been Thomas that he had chosen to share that with.
His vision faded, a heaviness settling over his thoughts and body both. Not long now. Cross kept his eyes fixed on Pip. At least, he had protected him one last time.
epilogue
Pip’s head felt thick, as if someone had stuffed it with cotton wool. The light filtering into his bedroom showed that the day was well advanced, but he felt as dull as if he had not slept at all. He stirred, struggling into a sitting position, only to find his limbs weak.
“Father! You’re awake.” Julian bent over him, supporting Pip into an upright position. A second arm helped him up. Pip blinked at the usually cheerful face of Dr Harris, now creased in concern.
“I’m awake.” He looked around the room. The drawn curtains revealed a sunny afternoon. Somehow the brightness did not extend to his bedroom. Julian stood at his side, watching him with an alert, wary gaze. Harris returned to the foot of the bed where he stood next to Mereweather, both watching Pip with expressions of concern marred with—not wariness, but foreboding.
He was sick then. Badly sick. “Where’s Thomas—Lord Cross?” He was always there, scowling at the doctors, or at the staff if they made more than what he considered allowable noise. He was rather an alarming presence, truth be told, but he was always