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He’s been such a bogeyman and loomed so large, that it’s surprising to see how slight he is. However, his air of menace is powerful. It beats at my skull, demanding entrance, the whispers floating sibilantly around my head.
Then I hear him in my head. Ah, there you are, Mr Billings. In the flesh, so to speak.
Fuck off I say silently.
He laughs and then the pressure and the whispers are gone as quickly as the snap of an elastic band. His focus is on Branok.
“Why are you here?” Branok is saying.
The vicar shrugs. “You are trying to dismantle my empire. That cannot be allowed to proceed.”
“I would dismantle the world if it would give me one glimpse of Xander.”
“Oh, Xander,” Boynton says scornfully. “Xander, Xander, Xander. If you had never met that man, you might have lived longer.”
Branok blinks. “He had nothing to do with my death. I believe that was all you on that lonely lane.”
Boynton laughs. “If you had never met him, you would have kept your conscience small and hidden, the way better men than you did. There would have been no need for me to kill you. You let your love make you into a weaker man.”
“Why did you kill me? You didn’t know I would go to the law. I was nothing to you.”
Boynton almost looks wounded. “You were my friend. I knew you well.”
“I was never your friend. I was friend to the false image you presented. I was friends with the vicar who cared for people despite his cynicism. I was friends with a kindred spirit.” He gestures at Boynton. “The real you could never be my friend.”
“I killed you because until that night you were the same as me,” he says coldly.
Branok grimaces, making Boynton’s face cloud with anger. “I could never have been the same as you, Richard.”
“Aye, and the revulsion with which you look at me now is the same as that of the night of the Mary Jane,” the vicar snaps, before visibly calming himself, and saying in an oddly jovial voice, “Well, it couldn’t be borne. That someone would gaze so at me in that manner.”
Branok sighs. “Ah, I might have known your mighty ego had a part to play in all this. You could not bear for anyone to look at you with disdain. Not one person?”
Anger crosses his face. “Mighty ego? I had a right to that ego. Didn’t I bring fortune and fame to my bonny lads?”
“Your band of murdering scum, you mean.”
“Didn’t I harness the power of the dead to use over the living? Wasn’t I the master of illusions?”
Branok stares at him. “Well, you certainly didn’t use illusion when it came to murder. You did that to me—and many others—using ordinary brutality.”
Boynton grimaces. “Can I say that I was a little sad to kill you?”
“No. I only want to know one thing from you. Why Xander? Why the hell did you involve him in this?”
Boynton’s face twists. It’s only a flash but I see it as clear as day on his face—thwarted desire and maybe a little love. It might have been twisted, but he felt something for Xander in his own way.
“Because he saw me,” he says in a low voice. “And he looked at me as if I made his skin crawl. And so, he had to go too. I would have no mirror reflect my character. Not when he was wielding it.”
“It was more than that,” Branok says. “I know it. Tell me, Richard. When did you decide you wanted Xander for yourself?”
The vicar opens his mouth as if to protest but then shrugs. His eyes are very dark. “I met him before you. He was astounding, and even better, I knew he shared our inclinations. I thought he could be wooed if I was patient. And then I sat at that dinner the night you two met, and it was like watching a magnet and a farthing come together—immediate and powerful. I watched his face. He was so beautiful—far too beautiful for this blighted cove, but I watched that pretty face, impeccable education, and manners all consumed by one thing—you. Why you, Branok? Why not me?”
Branok shrugs. “Aside from the whole running the dead like a press gang? I can’t imagine.”
Anger flows over Boynton’s face like the tide coming in, and a charge runs through the ground. I stumble, and my hand lands on the angel. I pull it away quickly, feeling like I just touched something dead and sticky.
“It should have been me,” Boynton storms. “I was a far better man than you. You, a mere smuggler, cashiered out of the navy without a spare penny to your name. I had a name. I had a reputation.”
