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"I told you I didn't need your help," she said irritably. "Idiot man, you're bleeding everywhere."
"Was trying to be chivalrous," he replied, holding his head back as blood gushed from his nose.
"Yeah, very noble. Come on, let's get out of here before they get up," Mara muttered. She slung his arm around her shoulders and helped him through two lanes before the teashop opened the door for them.
"Figured something out. Not the shop that's calling me. The call comes from you," he slurred. "Led me right to you tonight."
"That's great. Try not to bleed on my floors," Mara said, walking him through the store and out the back to her lounge room and kitchen.
Saint Anea's eyes narrowed as Augustus passed her. Mara ignored it and helped him sit in an armchair. She grabbed clean washcloths and a bowl of hot water, placing them beside his chair.
"Okay, give me a look," Mara said. Augustus removed his hand, and Mara placed a clean damp cloth to his nose to catch the blood flowing.
"Is it broken? The Druid kids are Irish. I should've known they would be okay in a scrap," Augustus murmured under the washcloth.
"Not broken, but there's a cut, same as on your right cheek and eyebrow," Mara said, using her other hand to wipe the blood away from them. "You should've known better than to pick fights when you've been drinking. A lot by the smell of you."
"Your fault. You made me remember Emmaline. Felt it was only right to drink every bottle of Madeira I could get my hands on in her honor."
Mara sighed but didn't reply. Everyone grieved in their own way. Once the bleeding in his cuts had slowed, she took out a jar of ointment and smoothed it over them.
"What's in it?" Augustus asked sleepily.
"Yarrow. It'll help stop the bleeding and keep the infection out," she said. "Take your coat and shirt off. You're soaked. I'll find you a blanket."
Mara left him to struggle out of his wet coat. She tried not to think of having a half-naked sorcerer in her apartment as she took the clean throw blanket from her bed.
If any of the other Corvos had been living in Australia, she was sure they would've all been regretting not throwing her over a cliff when they had the chance.
Augustus was pulling off his shirt when she rejoined him. She glimpsed lean muscle and a scattering of dark hair before she tossed the blanket at him to cover it.
"Thanks, Mara," he said, wrapping it around his shoulders.
"Well, you did try to come to my rescue," she replied, putting water on to boil.
His busted face and hangover would give him a hard time the next day. She would have her own hangover to deal with if she didn't brew something to get rid of it now.
"Tryis the right word. What were you doing hanging out with those assholes anyway?"
"I was in the bar. They followed," she said.
"How drunk are you?" he asked as if finally sobering enough to realize the slur in her own voice.
"Drunk enough not to think twice about bringing you into my home." Mara handed him a wooden mug of tea and sat down on the footstool in front of him.
He looked around at the oxblood walls and the gold designs Sophia had painted on them. There were neat bookshelves and comfortable chairs scattered around a fireplace.
"Reminds me of a Russian caravan. I like it."
"That was Sophia's idea. It rankled her to live in a building, even a magical one that moved around," Mara said, the whiskey in her blood making her sound bitter.
"Sounds like a piece of work, your mom."
"She was."
"Is she the reason you were out drinking?" he asked.
"Not exactly. I'm still trying to reconcile the idea that someone knows me longer than a day. That and other things," she said dismissively. She drank some of the hot tea, and it warmed some of the chill out of her.
