Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
“ Y ou look like shit, Sim,” Crow observed, lying on the beach with his head pillowed in Simeon’s lap.
Simeon barked a laugh. “You’re the one who’s been perforated. Again.”
“And I’ll heal. Again. But you’re— If he uses that fucking box again, you’re going to disintegrate entirely.”
“He will not be using that fucking box ever again. Nor will I.” Simeon wasn’t entirely positive that dropping it into the ocean would get rid of it permanently. After all, Bran had lost it once on the shore of the North Sea, and yet it had still found its way to them. This time, however, Simeon had taken it out into much deeper water, which he hoped would suffice. It was the best he could do under the circumstances.
“What did you do with it?”
Simeon brushed a bit of sand off Crow’s cheek. “It’s gone. And I expect that means I’ll stop dissolving now.”
Crow managed a weak smile. “Good.” Then he frowned. “But you won’t be able to time travel anymore.”
“Good,” Simeon echoed. And he meant it. The tasks of managing the present and the future were difficult enough. He was content to let the past be.
Crow sighed and let his eyes fall closed.
“Where is this?” Bran’s voice was thready and barely audible above the waves. He sat a few yards away with his knees drawn to his chest and Simeon’s coat around his shoulders. Simeon hadn’t been enthusiastic about giving it to him, but it was cold out and Bran was nearly naked. Simeon at least had an intact—if bloody—shirt and trousers, and Crow’s body heat to help warm him.
“America.”
Bran gaped. “America?”
“Washington State, to be precise. That’s the Pacific Ocean and those green bits off in the distance are Canada.”
For several minutes, Bran was silent. Then he spoke again. “ When is this?”
“Erm, nineteen-eighties. Or thereabouts.” Simeon had been aiming for 1986, but he’d been weak and in a hurry and couldn’t be sure how precisely he’d met his target. When he’d flown back after disposing of the box, he’d caught glimpses of houses and roads that suggested he was at least within several decades of the eighties, but he’d been too concerned with making it back to land to take in more detail.
Bran mouthed the date silently. He was even paler than usual, his thin frame drawn inward, his cheeks hollowed, his eyes shadowed. But with Crow gutted again, Simeon had little sympathy for Bran’s distress.
A path led from the beach up a hill, likely toward a parking lot. A family in brightly colored jackets made their way down toward the sand: a man walking hand in hand with one child while a woman walked beside them and another child ran back and forth. Simeon’s vision was sharper than their human eyes could manage, but soon they’d be close enough to get a good look at the three bloody messes on the beach. Simeon didn’t want to face the consequences of that.
He carefully slid out from under Crow and stood, then bent to cradle Crow in his arms. He was heavy, but Simeon was accustomed to carrying big loads at the carnival. He could manage Crow.
Bran scrambled upright too, clutching the coat closed at his chest. “Where are we going?”
“Crow and I are going someplace where we can wash up and he can rest and heal.” He didn’t know where that would be. They might still have some coins left between them, but shillings wouldn’t likely be of much use in Sequim. Also, Simeon was bloody hungry and knew Crow would need loads of food as soon as he was well enough to eat.
They’d manage somehow; he was sure of it. They always did.
Bran bit his lip. “And I?”
“Go wherever you please. You’ve an entire new continent to explore.”
“But—”
“I’ve had enough of you for now. I expect I ought to forgive you, and perhaps someday I will. But I can’t right now. Crow and I have our own future to plan.”
That was panic on Bran’s face. “You’re going to strand me here? In a time and place I’ve no knowledge of?”
“Make your own way. I did. Someday you may be ready to become friends with me, and if so, you’ll likely be able to find me. Not now, though. Find yourself first, Bran Frugis.”
Simeon felt no pang at leaving his brother, no sense of loss. Simeon was whole, was content with himself, and he held in his arms everything that was important.
Humming to himself and Crow, he turned inland and began to follow the pair of ravens that hopped ahead of them.