Page 117 of The Dragon and the Dove

‘I wanted to see if you were all right.’ He was so unbearably earnest. ‘I heard what happened in the cloakroom.’

‘I don’t need your concern.’

‘You look all right to me,’ Fabian agreed. He seemed satisfied by his own assessment. Tipping the satchel off his back, he started rummaging around inside. ‘Do you want a sandwich?’

Ransom stared at him. ‘What?’

‘Well, you just made a dragon as big as a house. You must be starving.’ He removed a sandwich wrapped in a cloth napkin. ‘It’s roast beef. Still warm.’

For hell’s sake …

Ransom’s stomach rumbled.

Fabian grinned.

He stuck his hand out. ‘I’ll try a bite.’

Fabian plopped down on a nearby rock. ‘I’ll sit with you.’

‘There’s really no need.’

‘Mama always said it’s bad manners to let someone eat alone.’

Leaning against the tree, Ransom unwrapped the sandwich and nearly fainted at how good it smelled. Saints, he was starving. ‘Was it just the two of you at home?’

‘Only when Papa was out drinking,’ said Fabian. ‘Which was a lot. I liked it better that way.’

They had that in common: a drunkard of a father with cruel fists, and a family home no kinder than a prison. Only, while Ransom’s mother had eventually fled his father, Fabian’s mother had died in their home. Fabian had got away by the skin of his teeth, and, after coming to Ransom for sanctuary in the catacombs, had been sent here instead, to House Armand. Not long after, Ransom had tracked Fabian’s father down at his local tavern and choked the life out of him.

For better or worse, he had the boy’s loyalty.

Ransom made quick work of the sandwich, Fabian watching all the while with a satisfied smile on his face. ‘Everyone thinks you’re going mad, you know.’

‘Maybe I am.’

The boy hummed. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re right.’

‘About what?’

‘Theo.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘My mother used to lie all the time. About the marks on her face, mostly. Or the sounds I used to hear at night. She said it was possums in the wall. But I know what crying sounds like. I knew even back then.’

Ransom balled up the napkin, listening intently.

‘When Mama lied, she used to chew on the edge of her thumbnail. Like this.’ Fabian showed him. ‘Theo does it all the time. And he drinks too. After midnight when everyone’s asleep, he sneaks into the pantry and takes the brandy from the top shelf. Then he walks back and forth for hours. It’s like he’s afraid of something.’

‘You shameless snoop.’ Ransom couldn’t help the note of affection in his voice. ‘I suppose you’re going to say he’s afraid of me.’

With a slow shake of his head, Fabian said, ‘I think he’s afraid of himself. I reckon there’s only so long you can be a soul-eater without eating any souls.’ He looked up, the innocence in his large brown eyes replaced by something sharper. Shrewder. ‘What happens when his magic starts to starve?’

The hairs on the back of Ransom’s neck rose. ‘Keep a close eye on him, Fabian. If you see anything suspicious, I want you to come to me at once.’

Fabian leaped to his feet like a dutiful soldier. ‘You can count on me.’

‘Good man.’ Ransom clapped him on the shoulder, leaving his hand there as they returned, together, to House Armand.