Death Takes a Lover (a D.S.Billings Victorian Mystery Book 0.5) by Olivier Bosman

Author:Olivier Bosman [Bosman, Olivier]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-12-06T23:00:00+00:00

6. The Demon of Temptation

The wind was howling outside. It swept down through the chimney and whistled its way into the room. A door in the corridor kept creaking and banging, and the eddying draught was rolling the syringe up and down the floorboards. Billings felt as though he were on a ship, rocked by the waves. He pulled the blankets over his head and pressed his pillow to his ear. He had taken a whole ampoule of morphine so why couldn’t he sleep?

Suddenly a great gust blew the window wide open, causing the shutters to slam against the wall. He sat up, alarmed. He could see the curtains billowing as the wind continued to rush into the room.

God damn this confounded storm! he thought as he stuck his legs out from beneath the blankets and put them on the cold floor. He was about to get up and close the window when he became aware of someone else in the room. Over by the wardrobe, on the far side, he could see the silhouette of a man, standing still with his hands behind his back, staring at Billings. He froze. The other man was tall and slim with broad shoulders. His short hair lifted in the breeze. The collar and top buttons of the man’s shirt were undone. Moonlight turned his pale flesh to silver.

“Who are you?” asked Billings, climbing back into bed and puling the covers over him for protection.

The man stepped closer. The moon shone on his face and illuminated his deep blue eyes. It was Roger Thornton.

Of course, Billings thought, and sighed with relief. This was a dream. Another strange, morphine-induced dream. He hadn’t had one of those for a long time.

“What do you want?” he asked as Roger approached the bed.

“What’s it like to be dead?” he answered.

“Dead? What do you mean, dead? You're the one who's dead.”

“Only from the outside.”

Billings suddenly heard the sound of sniggering. He turned towards the door and saw Wilcox, Martha and Gracie gathered in the doorway, watching and laughing at him.

“I hear you've been admiring my portrait,” Roger continued.

“Who from?”

“Who do you think? He hovers over us like a buzzard and sees everything we do.”

“I was just looking at it.”

There was more sniggering from the servants crowding the doorway.

“Indulging in solitary vices can lead to lunacy,” said Roger, with a mocking grin on his face. “They taught me that at Sunday school.”

“I didn't do anything,” Billings protested.

“But you wanted to. A sin's a sin. God does not differentiate between sins of the mind and sins of the body.”

Billings turned his eyes away and hung his head.

The syringe kept rattling against the floor. Roger turned to look. It rolled straight from the doorway towards his foot and he trapped it beneath his boot. He bent over and picked it up.

“And what is this?” he asked, holding out the syringe to Billings.

“It helps me to sleep.”

“Do you think that God doesn't see you just because you inject after sundown?”

“There’s no harm in it.

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