Chapter 23 - The Long Walk Home (part 1)
23
The Long Walk Home
A breeze whistled past a few tattered flags and rushed along the sides of stone buildings. A pair of young Fae huddled closely together as they walked hurriedly down the alleyway, coats pulled tightly over their shoulders. It had been a mild autumn. The wind was chilly, but not altogether cold.
A slight figure pressed his shoulder blades against the wall, ducking his head against the gust. A mess of ginger hair flew wildly around his face. Robert began to shiver, then willed himself to stop with a flutter of his shining wings. Soon he would be warm in his bed.
The back-alley door swung open. The softly freckled face lifted for a moment, green eyes hopeful.
“…and he gave me ten-can you believe that?” Two girls walked out into the alleyway. “Ten, and he said he’d triple that when I get to his place. Oh, hey, Bobby!” The door swung closed. “Waiting for someone?”
Robert nodded and smiled a little. Frankly, he was tired of smiling. “Yeah.”
The second girl, a Fae with shining beetle-like wings cupped around her back, slipped her arm around his waist. “You be careful, sweetheart. Don’t catch cold.”
“I won’t,” Robert assured her, hugging the girl in return. “You two take care of yourselves.”
“We will,” beamed the taller of the two girls. “Goodnight, Bobby.”
Bobby nodded. “Goodnight.”
The girls trotted off into the dark. Bobby watched their backs, the pleasant smile vanishing from his face. They went separate ways as they reached the end of the alley. The young man stared at the spot where they had parted, lost in his own thoughts. When he moved again, it was to lift his face to the sky. There were no stars. It must be a cloudy night, Bobby thought. Though it was not truly visible, Bobby could almost feel the blanket of clouds pressing in on the earth. He took a deep breath in defiance, then exhaled a light cloud of mist that floated upward and faded into the darkness.
A regular, repetitive click brought Robert out of his thoughts. It was coming from the end of the alley. Robert squinted, peering at the small patch of street visible at the south end of the narrow lane. A tall lamp cast a flickering patch of light over the brick-paved street. The sound was coming closer.
Bobby rubbed his palms together briskly. He didn’t want to have to wait much longer. He would wait; he knew this and he would have admitted it freely. For over a decade he had waited patiently at the end of the night. For the last few years, it had been here, in this alleyway. Before, it had been the city library, a forgotten fountain, and even a small cluster of trees on the very edge of Cion. He had always waited, and he always would. And Millandrian would always come.
A shadow passed over the patch of light at the alley’s end. It caught Robert’s attention. He held his breath as the source of the sound came into view. The sound, as Bobby knew, had been the regular fall of footsteps. The feet to which the footsteps belonged were clad in stiff leather boots. The man to which the feet belonged was tall and light-haired. Two massive white wings protruded from the back of his tunic. This was not the man Bobby had been hoping to see. His head lowered against another rush of wind, and his green eyes fluttered closed. He felt exhausted. Every inch of him ached. He longed to go home and sleep.
When the wind died down, all was silent. The Angelis man would be several blocks away by now, his footsteps faded to nothing in the night. Bobby wrapped his arms around his bare midriff. He felt the silence envelop him and relaxed against the wall. A wave of near-sleep washed over him. He allowed it to permeate him, filling his head with a soft, comfortable feeling. Robert slowly drifted toward slumber, propped against the cool stone wall.
The regular click began again. The Fae boy’s eyes snapped open again and he turned toward the end of the alley. The Angelis man must have stopped under the streetlamp, and was now striding purposefully down the alley. Bobby straightened and glanced at the door beside him, perhaps hoping it would open. It did not.
“What’s your name?” the Angelis man questioned.
“Can I help you?” Bobby stammered, caught off guard. He tried to bring the pleasant smile back to his lips. It would not come.
“What’s your name, Faerie?” the man demanded.
“Robert,” he answered. “Or Bobby…it’s whatever you like, sir.” There was the smile. “But the Hall is closed for the evening, you see, and I’m-“
“Where are you going tonight, Robert?” The man was a few paces away, now, and Robert could see his face. It was thin and pointed-looking, with narrowed, light-colored eyes. A few thin locks of blond hair rested upon his forehead. He was quite a bit taller than Robert, and the young Fae had to incline his head to look into the angel’s face. The man’s expression alarmed him. His heartbeat quickened.
“I’m not available tonight, sir.”
“And why is that?” With one rough movement, the man grabbed both of Robert’s shoulders and pushed him hard against the wall.
“I’m going home, sir!” Robert said, trying hard to sound calm. The smile had faded from his lips once again. “I’m just going home…”
“Yes, you are,” the angel snarled. “You’re going home. I’ll watch you, and if you go anywhere near my brother-“
“I don’t know who your brother is!” Bobby said. He knew he sounded afraid, and his own voice frightened him a little.
“Don’t lie to me!” The man drew back his fist and slammed it into the boy’s freckled cheek. Bobby reeled as the Angelis man released his shoulders. “My brother, Nathaniel! He was all over you in there! He touched your face!”
Robert’s head was spinning. “I don’t know who your brother is! I don’t know you…I’ve not done anything to you, or your brother! I’m just going to go home!”
“Stay away from Nathaniel!” Micah’s fist was in the air again. Robert cowered. “Don’t you dare give him what he wants!”
“Don’t touch him!” The door had swung open. A slender man in his mid-twenties stood lightly silhouetted in the doorway.
Micah’s fist fell to his side. “Michel…Michel Licorne, is it?”
The young man nodded, a quick jerk of his head. “Micah Razan. This is no place for you to be.” He stepped out of the doorway. His blue eyes looked angry. His face seemed uncomfortable, as though it was an expression he did not often wear. “This one is mine. Now get out of here before I decide to report this to the League.”
Micah’s angled face was a strange contortion of confusion and frustration. He took a step backward, looking hard at the two men, then turned and walked promptly northward out of the alley. He turned and disappeared around the corner.
“Bobby!” Millandrian crouched. Robert was kneeling on the ground. “Bobby, what happened? What did he want?”
Robert gingerly touched his cheekbone, then looked at his hand. A smudge of bright red blood sparkled on his fingertips. “I don’t know, Landri.” With Millandrian’s help, he rose painfully to his feet. “I don’t know what he wanted. He just showed up…ow…and started yelling at me.”
“Bobby, I’m so sorry.” Millandrian’s pale hands took Robert’s darker ones. He peered down into the Fae boy’s face, noting a slight abrasion on his cheekbone. “You’re hurt, love.”
“And you’re shaking,” Bobby said quietly.
“Rough day at the office.” The muscles around Millandrian’s eyes seemed to relax, and Bobby could clearly see pain there. “Come back inside. We can get that cleaned up in the kitchen.”
“No,” Bobby shook his head. “Let’s just go home, please. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Millandrian looked down into the pale green eyes for a moment, finally nodding his assent. “Let’s go home.”
Millandrian looked down into the pale green eyes for a moment, finally nodding his assent. “Let’s go home.”
Robert, still loosely holding one of Millandrian’s hands, turned to walk southward. Millandrian followed. The wind charged through the alley once more before they turned onto the main road. They were a strange sight, walking down the road hand in hand. Millandrian seemed to shine like a star, his neat white clothing and hair reflecting every flickering beam from the abundant streetlamps. At his side, eyes fixed downward on the worn brick road, Robert was an accompanying flame. His almost bare shoulders glimmered in the lamplight, and his wings were glassy and multifaceted as a gentle forest stream.
Both men were attractive, each in a different way. Tall, slender, and graceful as a silk veil in a draft, Millandrian was beautiful in an almost feminine way. His pure white, baby-soft hair gently curled where it rested around his shoulders. A few fair wisps drifted over his clear face, playing tenderly around his dark blue eyes. The shining star on his forehead would be, to a stranger, only visible when the light hit it just right. The childish innocence of his appearance seemed to collect in the sweet corners of his mouth. He was not as naïve as he had been as a teenager. Landri had always been intelligent and resourceful, but he was much better at keeping his motives to himself these days. Regardless, to Bobby, his face was still an open book. With barely a sideways glance, Bobby could tell he was worried.
Robert McRae was shorter than his companion by about a head. Perhaps it was childhood malnourishment, but his bones had never seemed to grow quite as much as they should have. From a distance he still looked to be around fifteen or sixteen. He would be twenty-three years in the spring. Regardless of his stature, Bobby had a stronger look about him than Millandrian. His musculature, though compact, was clearly visible and added dimension to his tan skin. Soft brown freckles blanketed his shoulders, trailing down to the joints of two polished wings shaped like those of a dragonfly. He had long since abandoned trying to keep his wild copper hair in place and instead allowed it to defy gravity in its natural way, sticking up in a dozen directions. Clothed in elaborate attire of sewn leaves, Robert looked like more of a fairytale creature of the woodlands than a city-dweller.
The streets were mostly silent in the hours of deepest darkness. Every window they passed was slick and black. They saw no other people walking down the street. As they neared the edge of the city, a carriage crossed their path in a clatter of horseshoes and rumbling wheels. Millandrian quickly jerked his hand away and shoved it in his pocket. Bobby felt an angry heat rise in his chest as his own hand dropped against his thigh. It was for his own protection, he knew, and Millandrian’s. The thought did little to make him feel better. They each had their role to play in the city, and closeness between a poor Fae worker and a moderately high-ranking member of the League would not be tolerated.