Gerard is still of the opinion that, if it’s going to be wet in January, it should at least have the decency to be snow and not rain.
At least it’s only a drizzle, not a hard, pounding rain. Not that it matters, he’d be out here regardless, but he worries about Martin when the weather gets sloppy and wet. Ever since he got so sick last year, both Gerard and Melanie have tried to keep on top of him to make him take better care of himself. And to his credit, he’s been fairly good about it. But when it’s like this, when the weather can’t seem to decide what season it wants to be and the dampness sinks in, he sometimes gets caught not properly dressed for the weather.
He hurries along the path, dodging puddles and the occasional passerby, until he reaches his destination. There are a decent number of pubs around here, but his aim is not one of the big, flashy ones drawing on the area’s history or tourists. It’s a grimy little hole in the wall, not exactly one you have to know someone who knows someone to find but the kind of place you just skip over on a casual look. Gerard, as he always does, pauses briefly on the sidewalk to look at it. The windows are the old-fashioned kind, beveled glass that don’t really let you see in or out and don’t actually let in that much light either, but the lights behind them are golden, cheery and welcoming on a night like this.
He shoulders his way through the dark green door and into the pub.
It’s not particularly crowded, but then, it is a Thursday evening. Still, there are a few regulars gathered. Technically, Gerard—and Martin and Melanie—qualify, even if they aren’t here every week, or even every month. But it’s where they always go when they get the chance to gather for a pint, and it’s small and quiet enough that nobody knows to find them here, and they’re never bothered. Gerard scans the room as he pulls down his hood. The man behind the bar catches his eye and gives him a smile and a nod, then jerks his head in the direction of the part of the pub overlooking the Thames. Gerard returns the nod and heads in that direction.
Sure enough, Gerard finds Melanie at their usual table, a mug in front of her and a pensive look on her face as she gazes out over the rain-spattered river just outside. The shutters are always open at nights, and on the darker days. She looks up when Gerard pulls out a chair and smiles. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Gerard smiles back and sits down. “Got my message, then?”
“No, I’m out drinking on a Thursday evening instead of working on the next episode of Ghost Hunt UK completely independent of you,” Melanie deadpans.
“Touché.” Gerard glances up as a pint suddenly appears in front of him. “Ta, Nancy. How’s the family?”
“Same as always, growing like weeds.” Nancy Kelly, great-great-granddaughter of the First Watch’s original owner, who currently runs it along with her husband, laughs and wipes her hands on her apron. “We’re all waiting on our Sean to come back from his latest run. Business all right at the store?”
“Yeah, I’m doing all right, thanks.”
Nancy pats him on the shoulder before walking off. Melanie watches her go, then turns back to Gerard. “She’s well and truly gone, then?”
Gerard knows she isn’t talking about Nancy. “She’s faded enough that I can get away for a bit, anyway. There’s a book she got a line on down Dover way, but she went out before she could get hold of it, so I’m hoping I can get it and get rid of it before she comes back.”
“Do you know which one it is?”
“It’s called The Cobwebbed Duchess, so if it isn’t the Mother of Puppets, I’ll eat my hat.”
“The topper, or the woolen one?”
“Why would I eat something Martin worked that hard on?” Gerard takes a swig of his drink. “Speaking of, do you know if he’s coming?”
Melanie consults her watch. “Yeah, he should be along any minute. Remember, he’s coming from Chelsea. But he sent me a text when he left.”
Gerard frowns. “If he left on time, he’d be here by now. Did Diana make him stay late again?”
“He didn’t say, but I assume so.”
A couple minutes later, the door opens; Gerard turns around and is relieved to see Martin. He’s even more relieved to see that he’s wearing his mackintosh and a brown tweed trilby (not a fedora, Gerard’s been thoroughly schooled on that front) to keep off the rain. What surprises him, though, is that he’s not alone. There’s a young man with him Gerard doesn’t think he’s ever seen before, shaking out a sleek black umbrella before putting it in the stand by the door. Nancy greets Martin with a smile and turns her cheek towards him; as he always does, Martin kisses it, then seems to introduce her to the young man, who bows and kisses her hand in a very formal gesture that makes her laugh and swat at Martin playfully.
“Is he seeing someone?” Gerard asks Melanie in an undertone.
“First I’ve heard of it.” Melanie frowns. Suddenly, her expression clears, and she stands up as they get closer. “Evan!”
Gerard gets up, too, surprised but not altogether displeased. “Good grief, I didn’t even recognize you there. Ditched the glasses, did you?”
Evan Lukas, whom Gerard hasn’t seen since he still had braces on his teeth, grins broadly and comes in for a hug. He’s a bit shorter than Gerard, but his hug is firm and warm, and he claps Gerard on the back before letting go. “Contacts, my friend. I still have the glasses for when I do the lab work, but on a day like this, who wants to deal with spectacles?”
“Shut up,” Martin grumbles, but he’s smiling too.
Melanie gives Evan a hug, too, and he laughs and tugs her hair playfully. “How’s it going, Miss Celebrity?”
“Shut it, I’m no celebrity.” Melanie rolls her eyes.
Martin takes a seat and glances over at Gerard. “Hope you don’t mind, but…”
“No, not at all,” Gerard assures him. He likes Evan, always has. Probably the only person Martin’s ever dated that he did. It’s a bit of a shame they didn’t work out in a long-term relationship, but they decided they made better friends than boyfriends. “There’s nothing serious going on. I’m just free again.”
Martin nods. Nancy comes over with two more drinks, checks on Gerard and Melanie, and then bustles off. Once she’s gone, Evan leans forward, his smile fading slightly. “You doing all right? I haven’t seen you since…” He gestures vaguely.
“Since the trial,” Gerard completes. “Yeah, I’m all right. And by the way, thank you for offering to appear as a character witness for me. It probably would’ve helped if things had gone that far. But the bookstore is still keeping on and so am I.”
Evan hesitates. Finally, he says cautiously, “I…don’t want to pry. But when I was home for Christmas—I know, Melanie, don’t even say it—I heard some talk. Your…is she…?” He doesn’t seem to know how to continue.
Gerard gets it. Evan was never going to be the head of his family, has been trying to distance himself for years, but he knows the truth even though he’s supposed to have proved himself worthy before he can learn, or something like that; he crept into the basement of his parents’ home and found the secret out shortly before leaving for college, which is probably one of the reasons he and Martin were drawn to each other initially. They’ve filled him in on the basics, but since he’s trying to keep out of that life too, it’s only the basics. Still, it’s a relief to have someone outside the three of them they can discuss this with, and Gerard knows Evan feels the same.
“She tried a ritual,” he says quietly. “Something about her Book. To bind herself to it…I think she was trying to cheat death, or master it or something. But because I didn’t help her, it didn’t…exactly work right.”
“She came back wrong, then?”
“Frankly, I don’t know that she ever really left right to begin with.”
“Blood on the steps.” Evan isn’t really one for swearing per se, not that Melanie and Gerard haven’t tried to teach him. Most of the ones he does use are ones from a fantasy novel he intended to write when he was twelve or so but never got further than the extensive worldbuilding, including the various oaths and profanities and why they’re used. Blood on the steps is probably the strongest oath he uses. He explained it to them once—something about a war and a treaty and how it’s technically a shortened version of the full oath, which is by the blood of the king spilled on the steps of the Palace of the Light—but Gerard honestly zoned out. He wouldn’t even remember the full oath if Martin hadn’t written a poem around it once. “So she’s…what, hanging about? Haunting the shop?”
Gerard hesitates. “Something like that. I don’t…really know how to explain it. But right now, she’s faded, which is why I’ve gathered you all here tonight. When she’s fully…manifested, I guess…I have to keep running errands for her, stay close to the shop as much as possible. She’s still powerful enough to affect things and I can’t risk what might happen to people if I’m not there to run interference. But when she sort of uses her power up—I guess—she sort of fades away into nothing and I’m free.”
Evan blows out a slow exhalation that becomes a whistle at the end and takes a sip of his drink. “For how long?”
Gerard doesn’t give the obvious answer: Not long enough. “Could be a day or two, could be longer. So far the longest it’s been is a week.”
“And she’s worse than she was when she was alive,” Martin puts in.
Evan looks surprised—and maybe a tad guilty. “You’ve seen her?”
“Few times. She about took my head off when I went to pack up a few of Gerry’s clothes so he didn’t have to suffer the ignominy of wearing bright colors because he wore out the two shirts he took with him backpacking Europe.”
“Shut up,” Gerard says without any real force behind it. Martin just laughs at him.
Melanie cocks an eyebrow at Evan. “You thought he was imagining it, didn’t you.” It’s not a question.
“I…maybe a little,” Evan admits. “You’ve got to admit, even for us, it’s weird.”
“You’re not wrong,” Gerard agrees. “And it’s fair enough. She made so much of my life a living horror that it’s probably natural I’d hallucinate her after her death. Unfortunately, not a hallucination.”
“And equally unfortunately, still a horror,” Melanie adds.
Martin raps the table once lightly with his knuckles. “And yet fortunately, not here. Can we please talk about something else?”
Gerard can’t help but laugh. Hopefully Martin knows he’s not laughing at him. “Yeah, all right, sorry. Evan, how are things going with you these days?”
They drift into happier topics—Evan’s studies, Melanie’s show, Martin’s knitting. Nancy refills their glasses and drops off four steaming portions of fish and chips, and Gerard finds himself relaxing further. This is exactly what he’s been missing.
A few tables away, one of the old men who’s been a fixture here as long as Gerard can remember bangs his mug against the table, rises to his feet, and begins singing. “Well, here we are, we’re back again safe upon the shore…”
Evan lifts an eyebrow, obviously trying not to laugh. He gives in, though, when the old man hits the chorus of the song and Gerard, Melanie, and Martin all join in immediately. “So pass the flowing bowl while there’s whiskey in the jar…”
This is one of the reasons they keep coming back, that and the fact that Nancy and Charlie were also willing to be character witnesses for Gerard during his murder trial. They don’t always manage to stay long enough for the beer to hit enough that the singing starts, but Gerard genuinely enjoys it more when they do. It’s nice to get to sing with Melanie and Martin when it’s for some reason other than burning a Leitner. Sometimes, if they stay long enough, the group can manage to convince Martin to sing something on his own, but even if they don’t, it’s fun to join in the choruses.
Martin elbows Evan, who reluctantly joins in the next chorus—his voice isn’t great, but this isn’t the kind of place where that matters much—and Gerard gives him a thumbs-up. For a few moments, he is blissfully, totally happy.
He only hopes it lasts.