Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
“ I t’s the gin,” said an old woman, squinting down at him. “It’ll strike him dead, mark my words.”
Crow firmly pushed the woman away. “He’s not drunk. He just, uh, had a dizzy spell.”
Simeon’s brain cleared just enough to understand that he was sprawled on his back on the pavement with a curious crowd gathered around him. Crow looked worried. Simeon sat up, blinked several times, and retrieved his hat, which had fallen off. “’M all right.” He thought he might be slurring a bit.
But when Crow offered a hand, Simeon was able to stand, at which point his audience grew bored and wandered away. “Give me a mo’ and I’ll find him again.”
“No. You look like shit, Simeon. We’re going to find you some food and a place to lie down.”
Much as Simeon wanted to argue, he lacked the strength. Besides, a meal, some drink, and a bed sounded lovely. He was lightheaded and tottery, as if he had a fever. It reminded him unpleasantly of when he’d had consumption, although at least this time he wasn’t coughing up his lungs .
This time Crow hailed them a cab, and it was Simeon’s turn to doze off along the way. He didn’t become fully alert until they’d dismounted and he saw where they were.
“The Langham, love? You’ve developed expensive tastes.”
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
The same clerk manned the registration desk, now seeming even more skeptical of Simeon, but Crow managed to charm him into handing over a key in exchange for some money.
“Do you have room service?” Crow asked.
“Pardon?”
“Shit. Maybe it’s not even a thing yet,” he muttered to himself. “Look, my friend isn’t feeling great. Can someone bring up some food?”
That made the clerk frown deeply, but then he gave a reluctant nod. “Very well, sir. I’m sure we can organize something acceptable.”
Simeon was grateful for the lift; he might not have been able to manage stairs. They were in a different room this time, but it was nearly identical to the last, and frankly, Simeon didn’t care as long as it had a bed. He shed his hat, coats, and shoes and collapsed onto the mattress with a groan. “I feel as if I’ve been at hard labor for days.”
“Get some rest.”
“But we need to talk?—”
“Later.”
Crow looked and sounded implacable, and Simeon lacked the energy to fight. He closed his eyes and allowed fatigue to carry him away.
He didn’t know how much time had passed before Crow gently nudged him awake. If not for the scent of food, Simeon might have refused to open his eyes, but instead he rolled over, propped himself against the headboard, and yawned. “Smells lovely. ”
It turned out to be simple fare—meat pies, stewed veg, and a pudding—but it was exactly what Simeon needed. He gobbled all of his share and, at Crow’s insistence, part of Crow’s, and washed it all down with milky tea. By the time Crow cleared away the dishes, Simeon felt much better.
“A meal in bed served by the most handsome bloke in England. I feel like royalty.”
Crow harrumphed and sat next to him on the bed. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“What happened? I don’t exactly recall.”
“You fell so fast I almost thought you’d been shot. Just… bang.” Crow whacked his hand against the mattress. “And then we were back in the current time.”
“Yes, but what happened just before that?” He was fairly certain he knew the answer but needed confirmation.
Crow hesitated and then sighed. “The kid looked at you.”
Right. There was his confirmation. Simeon ran fingers through his hair. He’d lost his hair tie somewhere along the way. “I didn’t think it was possible. Nobody else seems to have seen me—or you, for that matter—during my previous visions.”
“What do you think it means? And how come it…. You looked dead when you hit the ground. You were that pale. And even when you were up and moving you looked like you’d escaped an intensive care ward.”
“Dunno,” replied Simeon. He didn’t know what an intensive care ward was but figured it probably wasn’t a nice place to be. “We’ll find out when we go back, I expect.”
He started to get out of bed, but Crow grabbed his arm and dragged him back down. “Uh-uh. Nope. You’re going nowhere today. We’ve paid for this fancy-ass room and you’re gonna lie here and enjoy it. Even if I have to tie you to the bed.”
Simeon managed a weak leer and laughed when Crow rolled his eyes. Then Crow’s usual scowl slipped comfortably back into place. “This thing you’re doing, it’s dangerous.”
“You fought demons, love.”
“Yeah, but I had no choice. They kept coming after me. You could walk away from this.”
“No,” said Simeon with a heavy sigh. “I can’t.” He couldn’t explain why. Yes, he’d survived this long without any blood relatives in his life, and his curiosity about his origins had been largely satisfied. But now that he knew he had a brother—or at the very least, had at one time had a brother—he felt compelled to complete the rest of the puzzle. He’d never feel whole until he did.
He gave Crow a long, steady look. “You don’t have to be a part of this. We can find you a comfortable place to stay, and after I’m done?—”
“Fuck off!” Crow’s face flushed red with anger and he leapt from the bed. “If you think I’m going to abandon you just because I’m too chickenshit to face spooky crap, you haven’t been paying attention.” Before Simeon could answer, Crow stalked away and into the WC, slamming the door shut. Simeon could hear a lot of muffled cursing coming from inside.
He waited until silence fell to heave himself off the mattress, pad over to the WC door, and knock softly. After a brief pause, Crow opened the door. He stood there, silent, eyes narrowed.
“I don’t think you’re chickenshit,” said Simeon patiently. “You’ve demonstrated your bravery more than adequately, and I was most certainly paying attention. I was only giving you the opportunity to bow out of something that is my problem, not yours.”
Crow wasn’t mollified. “Like you did with my demons?” he growled. “And we hardly even knew each other then.”
He had a point. And Simeon should probably admit that, except now he remembered how many times Crow had insisted he could face his demons alone, and that memory made Simeon angry. “I’m no coward either,” he said, more loudly than necessary.
“You have plenty of faults, Simeon Bell, but that ain’t one of them.”
“You’re hardly faultless yourself, Crow Rapp.”
“I’m very aware of that.”
“Then I reckon we’re both stuck with an imperfect partner.”
“I guess we are.”
They exchanged glares—Crow still standing in the WC doorway and Simeon inches away—and the entire argument felt too ridiculous to continue. Of course Crow wouldn’t just leave Simeon to his own devices, and of course he’d worry about everything while he remained, because that was how Crow was. And of course Simeon would love him so deeply that he couldn’t imagine life without him.
So Simeon grabbed Crow and kissed him. Hard. Crow kissed back just as fiercely, and within moments their clothing was on the floor and they were manhandling each other all over the room, groping and shoving and grabbing and banging into furniture. There was a good deal of swearing—mostly cut off by hungry mouths. They were laughing and angry and passionate all at once, their emotions a particularly spicy but delicious stew. Eventually Simeon ended up pinned with his face against a wall, Crow both fucking him hard and wanking him fast. And for a short but glorious time, Simeon forgot everything except that he was Crow’s and Crow was his, and that was the luckiest thing in the world.
In the end they both collapsed onto the floor in a slightly painful but sated heap. Simeon lacked the energy to do anything about it, although Crow managed to haul himself upright and then help Simeon to his feet. He even dragged Simeon to the bed and pushed him onto it, but with more gentleness than force.
“We’ll be bruised by bedtime,” Simeon said, not regretting it at all.
“My bruises heal almost instantly and yours don’t take much longer.”
“That’s not romantic at all.”
One of Crow’s rare smiles curved his lips. “I’ll get you some flowers. Now get some rest. I’m going to see if I can get our clothes clean in the sink.”
That was a good idea. Their period-appropriate outfits were somewhat the worse for wear, having been worn for a few days in a row, including rides in public transport and walks through dusty, muddy, and sometimes malodorous streets and alleys. Simeon was going to point out that it was warm enough that they’d likely be dry by morning, but he fell asleep first.
It was midafternoon when Simeon awoke, feeling a trifle sore but overall much refreshed. He spent some time lolling in bed and watching Crow, who sat in one of the armchairs reading a book, wearing nothing but a pair of cheap white underwear from the 1980s. He frowned even as he read, which made Simeon smile.
“You stare loudly,” said Crow, not glancing up from his pages.
“You’re worth staring at.”
Crow humphed but also looked pleased.
Simeon rolled out of bed and stretched mightily. “I’m feeling restless. ”
“You’re not chasing after him today.”
“Could just go for a stroll. Do some sightseeing.”
Crow pointed at their still-damp clothing, spread on chairs placed in front of the open windows. “It would have to be naked sightseeing. Or we could wear our other clothes, but people will stare. Have jeans even been invented yet?”
“I expect you could get away with it, seeing as you’re American. But me….” Simeon looked toward the window and flexed his shoulders. “I think I’d fancy a flight instead.”
Crow finally raised his head from the book. “You’ll stay safe?”
“As much as I can.”
Facing no objection, Simeon took his other shape. He’d never been indoors as a bird before, and it was a bit of an odd experience. The colors were different, and of course furniture loomed larger. He spent some time exploring, hopping and flapping and poking at things with his beak. Crow seemed to find this amusing. Eventually Simeon hopped onto the window sill and Crow hurried over to open the glass wider. With a soft caw that encompassed many things, Simeon took off.
It was fascinating to see his home city from this perspective. He kept fairly low due to the cloud cover, circling around Marylebone and Mayfair before heading south to fly over Buckingham Palace and then north and east to watch the crowds at Covent Garden. After perching on a rooftop for some time, he went aloft again. This time he went to the Tower, where he exchanged pleasantries with the resident ravens, and then followed the snaking bends of the Thames all the way to Greenwich so he could swoop down close to the observatory and naval college. He perched there too, this time on a roof near Greenwich Market. Because he absolutely could not resist, he dove down to snatch a coin from the fingers of a matron who was attempting to buy an earthenware jug. Both she and the stall owner squawked in surprise and outrage. Simeon flew a taunting little circle overhead then dropped the coin into a pottery cup inches from the matron’s hand.
He would make a good thief in this form, he thought, except that he couldn’t carry anything too heavy and he had no pockets.
Having worked off his restlessness, he headed back toward the Langham via a more direct route. As the rook flies , he thought and chuckled an avian chuckle.
He was flapping over the British Museum when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Another bird was flying a block or so away, to his right. This wouldn’t have been a surprise—London was full of pigeons, sparrows, and other feathered creatures—but this particular bird was his size and, as far as he could tell, had black feathers. A crow, almost certainly. They lived here too. Except… had he seen a rook’s telltale white beak?
Simeon banked to the right in order to follow.
He lost the other bird almost immediately among the leafy trees in Russell Square, and although he considered just giving up and returning to the Langham, he made a few circles instead. And… there!
The other bird took off fast, with Simeon in pursuit. While over Regent’s Park, Simeon drew close enough to confirm that it was indeed another rook, but before he could decide what to do about that, the bird put on a new burst of speed and headed southwest. In the air above Hyde Park, it dove down to skim the ground. Simeon kept losing sight of it among the trees, but then the bird would reappear, just near enough to tempt him to continue the chase.
They flew on until they were well outside of London proper. Simeon’s grasp of geography outside the city had never been good, so he had no idea which villages they were passing or where his quarry was heading. For all he knew, the other rook wouldn’t be satisfied until they reached Plymouth. He’d long ago realized that the bird was deliberately drawing him onward, and he had no idea why. Perhaps it was Bran. Or perhaps it was one of the Frugises, maybe even one of those who’d wanted him gone due to the bleeding prophecy. In which case Simeon was being lured to his death.
Suddenly he realized that he was exhausted. Even though he’d flown much farther than this in the past—back when he’d been trying to reunite with Crow—back then he’d been able to work up to longer distances. Recently he’d rarely flown at all. And today had been tiring in general, what with tromping around the city, experiencing whatever happened outside Mallory’s Castle, having an argument with Crow, and then engaging in an athletic and bruising round of lovemaking.
His shoulders hurt and he was lightheaded. With one final look at the other bird, who was certainly mocking him now, Simeon turned northeast.
He almost didn’t make it. The only thing that kept him aloft was the alternative: he’d have to land in unfamiliar territory far from Crow, who he knew would be worried. So Simeon kept moving his wings, growing ever more sluggish. Three times he almost plummeted from the sky and had to pause on a rooftop to gather enough strength to go on. It was almost dark now, although the gas lamps illuminated the streets and buildings well.
By the time he reached the Langham, he almost bashed into the window glass, and when he did make it inside, he collapsed instantly. Crow scooped him up. “Jesus, Simeon! Are you hurt?” He cradled the body in his palms and hesitantly stroked the feathers on his back. It was lovely to know that Crow cared for him, no matter which form Simeon displayed.
But now he really wanted to be a man. He flapped free of Crow, landed on the bed without any grace, and changed his shape. Then he fell onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. His voice decidedly weary, he asked, “Do you reckon they could bring food to the room again?”