“Sebastian?” My voice rasped and my throat burned. “God’s, what the devil happened to me?”
“Oh, Benedict! You’re awake, thank God!” Sebastian pulled his arms free from beneath me and immediately I missed the warmth and certainty of his embrace. Sebastian placed a hand on my brow and pushed my curls back from my face.
“What happened?” I croaked groggily.
“Don’t you remember?”
“No… Why are you…in my bed—” I sat up in horror as a wave of reality hit me. “My servants, they…they cannot find you here!” I said with alarm.
“Calm down dear heart, calm down. All is well.” Sebastian gentled. “It is dawn. The house is quiet, and even Mrs. Twigg is still abed. I spoke with your servants last night. I told them I am the son of a doctor and know what to do, so this is all above board. I shall go to the kitchen and make tea. Don’t you move a muscle!”
As soon as Sebastian left my bedroom I staggered to the bathroom to tend to my ablutions. The face I saw in the mirror as I washed my hands looked aged, haunted even. I could not look at that man; such was the feeling of shame and revulsion that rose in me.
I was back in bed when Sebastian returned sometime later with a tea tray. I did not know how long he’d been gone but the sun had left the crack in my drapes throwing my room into shadows, the gas fire sending silhouettes dancing across the walls.
“How do you feel?”
“My head feels… wooly.”
“Well, I’ve put extra sugar in the cup to give you some get-up-and-go!”
I sat up in bed and accepted the cup and saucer. I sipped gratefully at the hot, sweet concoction. It calmed my raspy throat and assisted the lifting of the fog in my mind. Sebastian didn’t return to the bed, but drew my side chair beside the bed and sat with me. He watched me over the rim of his cup as we sipped our tea.
“Do you remember anything that occurred last night?”
I’d been thinking a great deal when Sebastian was in the kitchen. I recalled the black thoughts, the feeling of utter despair, and the belief that my soul was forever tarnished.
I looked at my lover with pleading eyes. “Please, for the love of God, jog my memory!” He put down his cup and took the teacup from me and laid it on the tray
“Fratres Seminis”
Those words made me inhale as if I had received a blow to my stomach.
“What happened there? I went to find you at 11 Adam Street and the house was empty.”
Memories rushed like a storm into my mind. I drew my knees up to my chest for protection and rested my head in my hands. How could I have forgotten?
“Tell me!”
Did this man know what he was asking of me? How could I repeat what I had witnessed? How could I tell him that I had been lured into a deviant secret society and was now forever tarnished and in danger for knowing their secrets? I must have looked horror-stricken because Sebastian reached for my hand. I wanted to pull away. I did not deserve his tenderness, oh no.
“Please, Benedict. I dragged you from your bath last night.” Cavell said earnestly. “You were trying to…drown yourself. What happened to push your mind so far off-kilter?”
“No, you must be mistaken, that is not like me at all. I must have fallen asleep in the bath.” I justified. But I doubted the words as the left my lips. My mind must truly have been pushed off its axis, for although I did experience melancholy and dark moods, I had never thought of doing away with myself. Sebastian’s steady, concerned gaze pushed me on.
“Absinthe. He gave me Absinthe.”
“No!” Cavell sounded appalled. He held his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t think he would still be pulling that stunt.” He near sobbed.
“What stunt? What are you talking about?”
“He laces Absinthe with an American drug called Methamphetamine. The drug possesses potent euphoriant and aphrodisiac qualities. Blake… gets a kick out of watching men unravel.” Sebastian admitted reluctantly. So, I had consumed a drugged alcoholic concoction!
“Damn it, man! Blake is a beast.” I spat angrily. “But you know that, don’t you.” I accused. “You know him and what he’s about.”
It was Sebastian’s turn to lose all colour in his cheeks. “I do,” Cavell admitted in a regretful tone. “And I feel wretched for letting you go to meet him alone. I just couldn’t let him know I’m in London.”
“How do you know him?”
“This is quite the story. Might as well get comfortable, old man!” Cavell said in warning as he slid into bed beside me. At that moment, I did not want his bodily warmth; however, I did not have the energy to be angry with him, especially after he had cared for me so sweetly. I remembered the shocked expression that first time we saw Blake at my club. He was terrified of the man. And now, knowing of Blake’s penchant, I was sure this telling would be worthy of a penny dreadful!
Cavell picked up his ready-stuffed pipe from the nightstand, lit it, and took in a few puffs of tobacco. The pipe sent up a familiar cloud of fragrant blue-grey smoke that I now associated with my new companion. I occasionally partook of a cigar on special occasions but did not care for a cumbersome pipe. Inhaling the scent I remembered fondly that I did like the taste of pipe tobacco, but not to smoke. I liked
