The Adviser

by Sydney Presley

  So am I. Jesus fucking Christ, so am I.

  After what seemed eons, Edwin’s mind began to let up on its relentless assault. At last, his body felt as though it was sinking into the mattress, and that wonderful, magical lull of sleep came to claim him. His eyelids grew heavy, but just as they closed and he began sinking into the abyss, the mournful howl of a wolf yanked him from going under.

  He sprang out of bed, fully alert now, and went to the window. Parted the curtains and stared down into the back garden. Stuart’s wolf gazed up at him. Edwin nodded, giving him permission to come inside, and Stuart dipped his head into the dog flap, then the rest of his body followed.

  “Time to face the real judge and jury,” Edwin whispered. “To find out the opinion of the only person on this planet who truly matters to me.”

  Dear God, please don’t let him hate me.

  Chapter Seven

  Edwin got back into bed, tense and uneasy in the darkness. It was as though he awaited his turn at the gallows. The noose was coming, the rough loop of fibre that would either be mercifully swift and snap his neck, bringing on immediate death, or strangle him in a slow and agonising dance until the grim reaper showed up to collect him.

  Because it would feel like death if Stuart disowned him.

  And he knew which method he preferred.

  If you want nothing to do with me, please just say so then go. Don’t draw it out, Stu. I couldn’t bear that, although I deserve to have you berate me and tell me what a dickhead I’ve been. I deserve to have you say if there had ever been any chance of us getting together as a couple, there isn’t a chance in Hell now.

  His bedroom door handle turned down, and he knew then that Stuart had shifted into a human. Stuart had never mastered the art of opening doors with either his snout or paws. Edwin closed his eyes so that the light he always left shining on the landing at night wouldn’t show him Stuart’s face.

  I really am a coward. Part of my punishment should be that I look at Stuart and see every single emotion—see the depth of his distaste, his hatred for me.

  Would you hate Stuart if your roles were reversed?

  No. I could never hate him. Not Stuart.

  But that was the thing—they were different people who felt different feelings on many subjects. From what Stuart had said in the past when they’d discussed certain topics, Stuart didn’t have any sympathy for criminals, small-time or big. Edwin had instigated many a conversation lately about people skating close to being on the wrong side of the law, and every time Stuart had said that if that line was crossed, the crosser deserved everything they got. The fact that Edwin was a ‘crosser’ had had him wondering if he ought to come clean, confess that he wasn’t who Stuart thought he was and that they should cut all ties before their friendship went any deeper. Not that it seemed it ever would. They would just be friends—If I’m lucky and Stuart still wants to know me. Edwin had accepted ‘just friendship’ a while ago, although a tiny bit of him still hoped they’d turn into lovers and bonded mates if only they’d give themselves permission.

  “I’m a hypocrite,” Stuart said as he closed the door then sat on the end of the bed, his naked back to Edwin. “All those things I’ve said before, about criminals and whatever. It seems no matter how much I try to convince myself you’re now one of them, my opinion on them being punished doesn’t apply to you.”

  Edwin let out an unsteady breath.

  Is Stuart saying…?

  “I can’t say you should go to jail, because then that would mean I’d hardly see you.” Stuart laughed quietly. “What a selfish little prick I am, eh? Thinking only of myself and how I’d feel if you were put away. But it would kill me, not having you near. And up until…up until recently, we’ve always told each other the truth, as far as I can tell, so for me to pretend that it wouldn’t affect me if you weren’t around…well, I’d be lying, and I can’t lie.”

  “Unlike me,” Edwin croaked out. His words had sounded bitter, as though he’d said them like that so Stuart didn’t have to. “But before…before the day of seeing the drugs for the first time, I’d never lied to you, either.”

  “I understand why you did it,” Stuart said. “Maybe in your position I’d have done the same thing. Who knows? Like you said out in the field, fear makes people do things differently.”

  “You’d never get yourself in my position in the first place—and don’t kid yourself that you would, either, because I wouldn’t believe you. You’re a good bloke, Stu, you can’t be swayed. Whereas me… Fuck, hark at me. I sound like I’m three sheets to the wind at a pity party, the way I’m going on.” He sighed, frustrated with himself and his mithering. “Look, I know what I’ve done is wrong, and I’m prepared to face the guilt of it every day for the rest of my life. I’ll never stop seeing Mr Lyons the way we found him in that barn, or what he looked like in the boot, or on the floor in the funeral parlour, or in that—”

  He stopped himself from going further. The visuals playing out in front of him were a wicked reminder of what he’d witnessed for real. And the echoic sounds of Lyons being ‘snapped’… They were the worst sounds ever.

  He sighed. “I’ll never forgive myself for knowing that the drugs being sold are hurting people—and not just those who take them, either, but their families, too. And I did nothing to stop them being sold. Just like I did nothing when I twigged that there was a pattern going on. That when people who owed Farrow didn’t pay their bills, they wound up dead. Nothing—you hear that? I did absolutely fuck all except come home and torment myself about it.”

  “Torment is sometimes enough, Ed,” Stuart said. “The mind is a devil and can make a man go mad if it wants to. It can create whispers that sound like real people, and show images that seem like reality. It can wreck you, chew you up and then spit you out without a second thought. Leave you broken. It can even rip your heart in two.”

  “Do you know that from experience?” Edwin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And was I the cause of your mind doing those things to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right. My fault for thinking…” Stuart paused. “Doesn’t matter what I’ve been thinking.”

  “It matters to me. Tell me?” Edwin held his breath.

  “I suppose I may as well be open like you have. And in a way I have been lying—to myself at least.” He sighed. “I thought we’d become a couple one day, that’s all. Only I’ve never had the bottle to say anything because you…you didn’t seem to want that.”

  Edwin let the breath go. “What? Are you messing me about?”

  “No.”

  “I thought you didn’t want that.”

  There was silence then, Edwin kicking himself for not telling Stuart how he felt sooner, and maybe Stuart was doing the same damn thing, who knew.

  “Oh, bloody hell, you don’t need this at the moment.” Stuart rose.

  “Don’t go,” Edwin blurted. “Please don’t go. I’m… Shit, if we’re staying honest, I’ll tell you I’m scared of being by myself. I don’t want to go to sleep on my own in case I see…things.”

  “So you want me to stay?” Stuart asked, still with his back to Edwin. “I can kip on the floor if you want. Beside the bed, like.”

  “No, I’ll budge over.” Edwin did, making enough room for Stuart to rest next to him if he chose to. Turning onto his side so he was looking at the window, he held his breath again and scrunched his eyes closed, waiting for Stuart’s next move.

  The mattress dipped.

  Relief wasn’t the word. Edwin’s eyes itched. His throat grew tight. His heartbeat sped up, and his stomach rolled over. They’d been on a bed together before, but that had been different. They’d just been friends then, watching TV, no hidden agendas—or none either of them had been willing to admit, it seemed. Now that they’d confessed their true feelings, being side by side like this was…exciting yet scary.

  There was so much mor
e to lose now if things went tits up tomorrow.

  Edwin wondered which way Stuart was facing. Was he right behind him, only an inch or so away, trying to make out the muscles in Edwin’s shoulders in the darkness? Or had he turned his back so he stared at the chest of drawers or the wardrobe beside it? Did they look like boring shapes with no substance, or ghostly hulks that were menacing? Since his job had taken a different turn, they’d always looked like hulks to Edwin.

  Stuart hadn’t pulled back the quilt and joined Edwin beneath it, he knew that much. He hadn’t heard the rustle of the feather filling in the bedding or felt the cover moving as Stuart got comfortable.

  He wants some kind of distance, then. A barrier.

  That hurt a little, but he didn’t blame Stuart. And anyway, what did Edwin expect? For Stuart to jump into bed and start kissing him? Groping him? Fucking him?

  Of course not.

  “I really am sorry,” Edwin whispered.

  “I know.” Stuart’s voice was muffled. Strained.

  “I can’t even begin to tell you how much. Nor how much I hate myself for what I’ve done. I can’t undo it, but I wish to God I could. You know, turn back the clock and do what you would have done—run away at the first sign of trouble and not look back.”

  A cold hand touching his shoulder then chilly fingers curling over it brought Edwin up short. All his adult life so far he’d wished for a moment like this, but tonight—especially tonight—he hadn’t for one second thought Stuart would want to offer that kind of comfort. He’d hoped for soothing words and nothing more.

  “Stop it,” Stuart said. “Beating yourself up isn’t going to make it all un-happen, is it. The past is gone. It’s the future we need to be thinking about. Like tomorrow and getting through it without you coming to any harm. Now that’s what’s worrying me, not your lies or previous behaviour. I admit they bothered me before tonight. Before you told me everything, and… Don’t you hate me just a little bit for bringing Alpha Roberts with me?”

  Honesty all the way now. “No. No, I don’t. It was the right thing to do, and it brought things to a head. It means it’ll all get sorted now. Okay, I’ll never be able to apologise to the Lyons family, or any other family who’s been hurt by my part in whatever Farrow did or does, but…” Edwin nodded to himself. “But I’ll just have to live with that. Maybe even move away. But that would mean making it easier on myself, and I’m not sure I should be doing that. Why should I get to walk off into the sunset without any reminders except for the ones inside my head? Not when other people are struggling with it all day to day.”

  Stuart sighed, and his breath cooled the back of Edwin’s neck. “I have to say that I feel badly for Mrs Lyons come the morning when she finds out where her husband has been found.”

  “Oh, God, don’t…” Edwin swallowed. “It’s all so…so fucking rotten, isn’t it? Me included.”

  “But you were scared. Even I could see that when I watched you at the barn.”

  “About that…”

  “Your face as you were carrying the body. I wanted to shift and call out to you, to make that horrible expression go away, to make everything all right again. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. It was like you were grieving.”

  “I was in a way,” Edwin admitted. “For Mr Lyons. For losing myself and for who I was becoming.” He paused, then said, “Why were you there?”

  “I followed you when you and Farrow left work because I wanted to see what you were hiding from me. I knew there was something. You’d changed, had become cagey, but never in a million years did I expect to see what I did. I actually thought you were seeing Farrow, as in, seeing him, and I wanted the proof of that so I could tell myself once and for all to back the fuck off and not hope anymore that we’d be… Well, you know.”

  Despite everything, Edwin laughed. It felt good, too, but it wasn’t long before the whispers started, telling him he had no right to feel happiness and that he was wicked if he thought he did. He shut up pretty sharpish.

  “I tailed you in my car through town,” Stuart said. “Then when it was obvious you were heading farther out, I parked up then shifted. Ran the rest of the way. Reckoned you two were off for a shag or something in that barn.” He laughed then. “Part of me wishes that was actually the case so you didn’t have to be suffering like you are now.”

  “But the other part?” Edwin asked.

  “The other part can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else but me.”

  “Will you hug me?”

  Edwin had sounded pitiful even to his own ears, so fuck knew what he’d sounded like to Stuart. Seemed it didn’t matter. Stuart came up behind him, pressed close, and it was then that Edwin fully relaxed. His breathing evened out and, with no more words being said, he drifted, mercifully, into oblivion.

  Chapter Eight

  Waking from a deep sleep, Edwin had nothing on his mind except the need to pee. The morning sun streamed through the gap in the curtains where they didn’t quite meet in the middle. He frowned, and then reality crashed back in. He remembered that he hadn’t closed them properly last night after looking out and seeing Stuart in the garden.

  His brain fully kicked into gear, and he was immediately filled with dread, fear, and sorrow. His life for the past few months hadn’t just been a dream, and he was living it. Here, now.

  Cautiously, he turned a tad to look over his shoulder.

  Stuart wasn’t there, but he was still in the cottage as the sound of gushing water filtered into the bedroom. Relaxing a little in the knowledge that his friend hadn’t abandoned him during the night, Edwin rested on his back and stared at the light fitting in the ceiling. A spider’s web had been spun from the electrical cord to the top of the blue shade, but no spider was in sight. Was that an omen? Later today, would he be walking into a web and Farrow would be hiding somewhere out of sight, ready to catch the fly that was Edwin?

  A shudder rippled over him, and he yanked the quilt farther up his body.

  It didn’t chase the chills away.

  Nauseated, he breathed deep and tried to recall what else Roberts had said last night, but his mind seemed intent on hiding the information. It had gone blank, and he panicked that if he didn’t remember what he had to do, he’d mess this up and everything would go wrong.

  “What’s the matter?” Stuart stood in the bedroom doorway, one of Edwin’s soft, cream-coloured towels wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his hair and onto his droplet-speckled chest. “Did Roberts ring you or something? I didn’t hear your phone go off.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Edwin managed. “I… It’s just that I can’t bloody remember everything I’m meant to do today.” He paused to think again. “Okay, I know I’ve got to get Farrow talking once I’m in his office, but… Where did he say I had to go to get the wire fitted?”

  Stuart appeared relieved if his smile was anything to go by. “The pack house. He said it wouldn’t look unusual if you went there before work because you usually do. If you’re being watched, then it’ll seem like you’re not doing anything out of the ordinary. Although I doubt you’re being watched. Farrow sounds as if he’s so up his own arse that he doesn’t think you’ll ever double-cross him.”

  Edwin thought about that. Stuart was right. Farrow was the sort of bloke who didn’t believe he’d ever get caught. He hadn’t for all these years, so why would that change now? He’d fooled all those who needed to be fooled, and the rest of the townsfolk worked for him and knew to keep their mouths shut. Farrow had everything sewn up, right down to the last stitch.

  Or so he thinks.

  “Okay,” Edwin said. “All right.” He took another deep breath. Let it out. “It’s all going to be fine.” He had to tell himself that, otherwise he’d go mad.

  “What did you have planned to do this morning?” Stuart asked. “You know, what were your plans before you confessed last night?”

  A bit of warmth was finally seeping into him, so Edwin pushed the qui
lt down a little and revealed his chest and half of his belly.

  Stuart’s cheeks flushed.

  “I was either going to avoid you or try to talk to you about everything. I hadn’t decided which. Then, whatever I’d done, I would have worried my arse off all morning on whether I should stay here or run. And depending on the outcome of that…”

  “Do you really think you’d have run?” Stuart asked.

  Edwin shook his head—but not to say no, more of a don’t know. “Not sure. I didn’t know what to do at all when I ran to the field last night. I was confused, fucked up. I still can’t believe what I saw, what I did. Kind of like it happened but it didn’t, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think so.” Stuart sat on the end of the bed. “Maybe it was so shocking that it still feels surreal. It’s not every day you get asked to do what you did—and let’s be honest, it’s not something you expect to do in your lifetime. Ever.”

  “No.” Fear was building up inside him again, and the only way to combat it, to make it go the hell away, was to change the subject so that Mr Lyons didn’t float through his head. “You can borrow some of my clothes if you need them. And don’t you have work today?”

  “Thanks.” Stuart walked over to the wardrobe and opened the door. “I called in sick.”

  “You what? Bloody hell, I’m a bad influence. You don’t lie—yet you did to your boss. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well.” Stuart moved a few hangers along the pole. The metal hooks tittered. “It’s only for today, and a small lie isn’t important in the grand scheme of things. I didn’t want to leave you by yourself all morning, but if you need to be alone, I can go home. At least you’ll know I’m close by if you need me.”