“Dad made me promise not to climb again.” His speech is a bit easier to understand, which is because I’m getting used to his slurred speech as much as anything. “Then I got sick and couldn’t, even if I’d wanted to.”
“I’m sorry.”
There’s nothing else to say. My family might be a disaster zone, but at least my parents are alive. The closest thing I could experience to Quinn’s loss would be losing Beau, and that’s not something I want to think about.
“She died doing what she loved,” Quinn whispers in a much clearer voice. Not that it stays that way as he carries on. “I like to think she was happy in those last moments before…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “She reached the peak. She ticked another one off her list.”
After a few minutes, Quinn takes his phone out of his pocket, finds a photo, and shows it to me. It’s of a woman in climbing gear on the top of a mountain with a brilliant azure sky behind her. She’s grinning and is punching the air. Even though her eyes are obscured by sunglasses, I can see the family resemblance.
“It was the last picture anyone ever took of her.”
“She looks happy.”
“She does, doesn’t she? Climbing is dangerous. She knew the risks. We all did. But we didn’t dream for a second that climbing the Matterhorn would be the last thing she did.” He pushes away from me, sitting upright. “I’m okay now. We should get going.”
“There’s no rush.”
“I don’t want to think about sad things anymore.”
I puff my cheeks out. “I think I should replan our date.”
Quinn’s brow creases. “Why?”
“I was going to show you around Highgate Cemetery. There’s some amazing Victorian Gothic architecture in there and the graves of some of my favourite authors, playwrights, and poets.” I brush tears away from his cheeks. “But I’m afraid it’s going to make you sad.”
Quinn stares at me for several long seconds. Eventually, he smiles softly. “I’d like to see it with you. I have a feeling we’re going to do more than walk around some old graves.”
“I did have something else planned, yes.”
“Then let’s do it.” He puts his hand in mine. “I trust you, Stefan.”
I help Quinn to his feet. He’s a little wobbly, but he’s able to walk the rest of the way to the cemetery. I pay our way into the west side of the cemetery. There’s an earthen path to follow, giving us a good look at the old, overgrown graves.
“This place is amazing,” Quinn says as we walk through an archway composed of Egyptian-style columns. “I’ve lived near London my whole life, and I’ve never been here. I bet it’s spooky at night.”
I chuckle. “Probably, but the gates are shut.”
“I can just imagine vampires prowling around here, waiting to prey on hapless fools.” He peers at me. “Is that why you brought me here? So you can bite my neck in a secluded bit of the graveyard?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”
Quinn rakes his teeth over his lower lip. “It would probably be disrespectful, huh?”
“Probably. Although they did make Hammer Horror movies here in the 1970s.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Quinn looks around. “It would be perfect for that.”
“It caused all kinds of problems for the cemetery.”
“How come?”
“It led to people pretending to be vampires, which then brought vampire hunters to the cemetery and even grave robbers.”
“Yikes.”
