Chapter Eight
Apologizing to himself as he did it, Caspian tossed a frozen pizza into his shopping cart.
He had time to cook from scratch and no excuse not to, but sometimes he couldn’t be bothered. A frozen pizza or two wasn’t going to hurt. Once he got back to Riverside and started a real job, he was going to rely on frozen, prepackaged meals, anyway. Why prolong the inevitable?
The time he saved on cooking could be well spent losing himself in a novel, safely distracting his attention away from the real world. The fantasy world he'd find in fiction seemed a lot safer than what went on Caspian’s head when he wasn’t reading.
Bran hadn’t visited him over the last week, and it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. Bran, the man of his dreams, and Caspian wasn't sure if he was real.
Frankly, Caspian felt ashamed of himself, moping after a guy—especially when it meant taking the expression “dream guy” to a whole new level. Or whatever Bran was.
With a hum, Caspian pushed his cart past the ice cream and came to a stop in front of the popsicle selection. There was a box of strawberry watermelon ice pops that he lusted after. Caspian snagged them, tossed them into the cart, and continued onward.
The more normal-people things he did, the less he thought about Bran. If popsicles made him feel normal, he was going to get them. Why worry about what he ate, anyway? It wasn’t as if he had anyone to impress with his trim body.
Ugh.
Caspian concluded his shopping trip in the produce section, stocking up on fresh fruits and vegetables before he went to checkout. He paid, collected his bags, and left. On his way to the car, movement overhead drew his eye. He looked up, but by the time he did, there was nothing but blue sky to see. Caspian shook his head and pushed his cart to his car.
As he loaded his grocery bags one by one into the trunk, a black bird perched on top of his car and stared at him with dark, beady eyes. Caspian puffed up. He knew right away that the corvid wasn’t his raven, but he couldn’t tell if it was a raven he'd seen previously or not. He didn’t even know if the raven had landed there coincidentally, or if this bird belonged to the congress of ravens he’d met in the forest.
Caspian’s gut told him that nothing in Beaumont happened by coincidence.
“Hello,” Caspian said briskly, well aware that anyone nearby had to think he was insane.
The raven cocked its head to the side.
“Well, are you going to do anything?”
The raven did nothing.
“Then I’m going to go about my day.”
Caspian placed the last of his groceries in the trunk, the hood latching back into place with a solid metal clunk. Once his car was secure, Caspian wheeled his cart to the cart corral, then opened the driver’s side door. The raven danced across the hood of Caspian’s car, his claws scratching the surface.
“You’re not coming in,” Caspian said. Whoever this raven was, he wasn’t Bran. Caspian wasn’t going to put up with him. “You have wings for a reason. You can fly.”
The raven cawed. He flapped his wings.
“Too bad.” Caspian opened his car door, then ducked in and shut it before the raven could come in. He rolled down his window just enough to say, “That’s why you have wings.”
There was skittering on the roof. The raven slid down his windshield, perched on his windshield wipers, and glared at him before taking off. Caspian watched him go, a little mystified and a little confused.
Bran, it seemed, was avoiding him. The other ravens hadn’t been around. Why was this one getting involved all of the sudden?
Caspian turned his keys in the ignition and backed out of his spot. He took the road home slow and easy—he didn’t want to hit any low-flying birds along the way.
A couple of miles later, he pulled up outside Dr. Kilpatrick’s house where not a single raven waited for him. Caspian unloaded his groceries in peace. He put away the frozen foods first, then focused on the cool items for the fridge.
If he didn’t give himself a second to think, he didn’t have to worry about what was going on in Beaumont. He could fill his afternoon with cleaning, then collapse into bed exhausted, and dream of nothing all over again.
Caspian didn’t dream anymore. Not in the traditional way, at least. He always returned to the same, smothering nothingness. He was getting used to it, and Bran was never there to save him.
Caspian finished putting his groceries away and got to work. He started in the basement. Most of the rooms were in a state of disrepair, so Caspian focused on deep cleaning them to get them back into shape. He’d already spent significant time during his second week in the house cleaning the upstairs, but the basement was an entirely different beast. Caspian cleared cobwebs from the corners of the ceiling and scrubbed years of dust and dirt from the floors. By the time he was too tired to continue, he’d only cleaned out the workout room.
Feet like concrete, Caspian headed back upstairs to settle in for some relaxation. He’d make dinner tonight if his body didn’t give out from all the cleaning. Something light.
Caspian opened the box of Popsicles and took one back to the couch. As he sank down, he undid the wrapper and let his gaze wander toward the glass door. He had the feeling that someone was out there watching him but he couldn't see anyone, not even a raven.
“Hello?” he asked. “You don’t need to hide, you know. I’m not going to hurt you. If I offended you by driving off, I’m sorry.”
There was no reply.
Caspian tried to push the feeling that he was being watched aside, but it was a lot harder to do than he thought it would be. His body was geared toward Bran, and his soul longed to return to what they had in their shared dream world. The sense that he was incomplete still haunted him. It was a hole that only Bran could fill.
Caspian finished his Popsicle and stuck the stick in an empty glass he’d left on the coffee table. For a moment, he considered taking a nap on the couch before pushing on with cleaning, but he thought better of it. If he napped now, he’d never get any sleep tonight.
Listless, Caspian picked up the glass and took it to the kitchen. He washed the dishes, then dried his hands, and contemplated the rest of his day. He could return to the basement and keep going, but the churn felt endless. The draw he felt toward the forest was too powerful, and the sense that there were eyes on him disturbed him. He decided that it would be for the best if he got outside, he decided to go for a jog.
Caspian wasn’t much of a jogger. Then again, he’d never been much of a hiker, either. Beaumont stirred unusual longings in him.
He made his way upstairs and into the guest bedroom to change. He stripped off his shirt and turned to toss it into the hamper when he froze. A raven sat on the sill outside his bedroom window, staring at him. Caspian yelped and covered himself with his balled-up shirt. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide, but the fact the raven was watching bothered him. It was intrusive. If the raven was one of the black-haired people he’d seen by the waterfall, then he was a peeping tom.
“Can you not!” Caspian cried. He stormed toward the window to rattle it, but the raven was unfazed. “Go away! I’m changing. Can you give me even a minute of privacy?”
The raven looked at him and blinked. Caspian thought he looked smug.
“Are you following me or what?” Caspian asked. He shoved the window open. The raven strode boldly into the room. “Is there some reason you’re tailing me? It’s creepy. The least you can do if you’re going to watch me strip is tell me why you’re here.”
Caspian didn’t expect an answer, but he got one.
The raven looked up at him, and quite suddenly, the raven’s body froze. His beady eyes grew lifeless, and for a tense second, Caspian was sure he’d died on the spot.
The illusion didn’t last long. The raven’s body shimmered like a road on a hot summer’s day. Then it started to change. The bird’s wings stretched away from his body and grew longer. His legs grew, then started to change. The scaly talons grew smooth, then lightened in color. Feathers molted. The bird’s body grew and shaped itself. Caspian watched in awe as the five-pound bird on his bedroom floor transformed into one of the radiant humanoids similar to those he’d seen by the waterfall in the forest.
Caspian’s mouth hung open. The man ran his hand through his black hair and shook his head as if to work out kinks from his neck.
“Y-You,” Caspian uttered. “You changed.”
“Are you really that dense?”
How rude. Caspian took an instant dislike to the creature, and the feeling was probably mutual. Even though they'd never met before, he had a feeling the man knew him very well already. He was bigger and broader than Bran, and a little rougher around the edges. “I would have thought you would have pieced one and one together by now. It’s not like the Prince is keeping it much of a secret.”
Caspian shrugged back into his shirt. The man was naked, but Caspian didn’t feel as at ease about his body. He had nothing to hide, but the way the man looked at him pierced him deep.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
The man sighed. “I suppose it’s not surprising, coming from a hatchling.”
When Bran called him that, Caspian thought it was a pretty word; coming from this man’s mouth, it sounded more like an insult. Caspian clenched his fists. “Hey!”
“Mm? You want to prove me wrong?” The man blinked. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t see and you don’t hear, hatchling. I don’t know why the Prince is so enamored with you.”
“I…” Caspian didn’t know what to say, but he stood his ground regardless. He spoke the first words that came to mind. “Are you talking about Bran?”
The man’s face twisted as he held back a laugh. Caspian furrowed his brow and stepped forward. The man shook his head. “Bran. Yes. Of course.”
“Why is that so funny?” Caspian asked.
“Because you really do have no clue.” The man shook his head. “You have no idea when you speak the name what greatness you refer to.”
“Well, I would if any of you took the time to explain it to me!” Caspian was fed up with being kept in the dark. Someone had to tell him what was going on. If that meant the naked bird-man had to reveal congress secrets, so be it. Caspian wasn’t going to let anyone else tell him that knowing wasn’t important.
“You’re petulant,” the man accused.
“You would be, too, if you were being treated like a child.” Caspian kept his eyes locked on the man’s, not letting them drift downwards. It didn’t escape him that a naked, irresistibly handsome man stood in his bedroom. Still, the man was a stranger and an intruder, and Caspian’s heart and soul longed for Bran. “Tell me what’s going on right now.”
“The Prince has sent me to keep an eye on you. He cares for you a great deal and has seen to your constant security.”
Caspian supposed, in a way, that the gesture was sweet. Regardless, irritation prickled across his scalp and constricted in his throat.
“If Bran cares so much, then why isn’t he here himself to watch over me? Why doesn’t he tell me anything?”
“The Prince is busy. There have been ongoing matters that have divided his attention and forced his hand away from personal pleasures.”
“I just want to know why he thinks that it’s okay to let someone he cares about stay in the dark,” Caspian said. “I don’t know anything about what’s going on. I’m struggling to put clues together and figure all this out on my own. I feel like I’m going crazy. If he really cares about me, then why wouldn’t he take time to explain?”
“You’re right, hatchling,” a familiar voice said from Caspian’s bedroom door.
Caspian spun around. Bran stood in the doorway. Caspian’s knees went weak.
“But I’m here now.” Bran nodded knowingly at the man to dismiss him. From the corner of his eye, Caspian saw a flash of black as the man transformed and flew out the window. “So why don’t we talk? My time is yours. I am here to right the wrongs I’ve done to you. So, where should we start?”