Page 53 of The Villains of Winter

James was used to having someone beside him. He preferred the scent of Elliott even to his own. Elliott’s scent was a warm reverie of meadows, rainfalls, and honeys. Impossibly romantic. He typically didn’t like those types of romantic scents, but he was fond of the notes on Elliott.

After a couple of hours that December, Elliott gazed into the angular shadows. “I can see Lucien behind my eyelids. I can’t make it stop.”

“I know.” James was the same way the first time he’d taken a life. “It will fade over time.”

For most people, it would lessen and cease. Elliott was not most people.

Visibly, Elliott was traumatized by the death of Lucien. The grisly memories of Mr. Newton’s death emotionally scarred him. He would break on his own.

He needed him.

James hated to leave him, even for a week, let alone the months he needed for the spring trimester.

James reminded himself would be free before the summer, then he could be with Elliott again. He’d spend every night with him again. It’d be like they’d never left each other’s side. After that, it was only his senior year of college left that they’d be separated.

“Here, eat.” James brought over his plate from dinner. “You’ll feel better.”

James had ground sleep medication into the mashed potatoes. When Knox stopped at the gas station, James had pretended to buy flu medication instead.

“You didn’t eat the dinner?” Elliott asked.

“No, I saved it for you. Eat something, Elliott.”

The mealy mashed potatoes had gone cold, the asparagus was stale, and the gas station ham was as solid as tungsten, but it was a full meal. Elliott hadn’t eaten since the day before the hibernal ceremony. James had covered it so the chicks wouldn’t pick at it, therefore it was fine.

“You don’t need it?”

“No.” James lied to him, “I ate the casserole on the train.”

After all, James needed to focus on more than dinner. He had a harder burden ahead of him. It would be entirely on James’s shoulders to sell that he had nothing to do with the disappearance of Lucien Montclair. James would be the primary suspect, if there was an investigation, after he had infamously stabbed Lucien in front of dozens of witnesses the night of Samhain.

Not to mention, Lucien had now killed James’s best friend as far as everyone knew, therefore there was a motive. Motive. Means. Opportunity.

James had a death-related motive to be involved in the disappearance of Lucien Montclair.

James had the means of harming him, as he’d proven before in October.

However, James had the lack of opportunity in his favor.

After all, James had thousands of witnesses to account for him at the winter play while Elliott had been ‘killed’ by Lucien five miles north. James couldn’t have possibly been in two locations at once.

Lucien was simply missing.

“Do you think you can handle all of it?” Elliott asked him. “Everyone’s questions about the disappearance?”

James smirked. “I’ve handled everything before now, haven’t I?”

James was more concerned about Elliott’s nightmares. Elliott took the death of Arthur Newton harder than any of them.

James noticed that Elliott’s wounds from the strangulation were already reopening, spreading a river of blood down his shirt. His bandages were a mess.

James laid Elliott down, removed the bandages, and treated him with a medical kit from the toolshed. James whispered in the quiet air. “You know I care for your soul—”

“James,” Elliott whispered as he felt his shirt unbuttoning, his trousers tightening, the whispers over and over again.

“Say it,” James ordered him in earnest. His voice thickened with sincerity. “So I know you understand. That you believe me.”

That I am capable of protecting you.