Quoth hopped down from the bed and crossed the room to a small chest of drawers decoupaged with scenes from nature and birds in flight. I knew I should look away, but I was afraid of what might happen to me if I did, so I kept my eyes trained on his body. I noticed the ripple of his muscles as I searched his naked skin for the signs of the feathers and beak and bird bones I’d seen only a few moments ago. Quoth was thinner than both Morrie and Heathcliff, but he was still toned and taut. Between his legs swung a cock that even flaccid was impressive.
He pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and skinny black jeans, then picked up his phone and tapped the screen.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Texting Morrie. The others have to know what you know.”
I didn’t like the ominous tone in his voice. “Why?”
“We assumed it was only a matter of time until you figured it out. We discussed it. We figured we could trust you. But we thought we had more time. And not even Morrie could predict this bloody murder messing everything up.”
Footsteps clattered up the stairs. A moment later, Morrie’s head popped around the door. “Well done, gorgeous. You deduced our secret.”
“It was hardly a deduction. I walked in and Quoth was all feathery.”
Morrie offered me a hand. I took it, and let him help me down the steep staircase. Quoth followed behind us at a distance, which I appreciated, since I didn’t want him anywhere near me.
Heathcliff slumped in his chair by the fire, a cigarette jammed between his teeth. Grimalkin curled in his lap, staring at me with wary eyes. Someone had pulled over another chair so it faced Heathcliff. I recognized the design from the suite in the mystery bedroom.
“You’re a right nuisance, you know that?” Heathcliff growled, nudging the chair toward me with his boot. “You’re nosier than Morrie’s last boyfriend, and he was a detective of sorts.”
Morrie had a boyfriend.I felt a flash of disappointment, but not surprise. My memory flashed to the leather straps hanging beside Morrie’s bed. I stored that nugget of information away to process properly later. Right now, I needed to know about the feathers. I sank into the chair, gripping the curled arms.
“Quoth, fetch the tea!” Heathcliff barked.
“Three days,” Quoth muttered as he headed off to the kitchen. “I couldn’t even get three days.”
“I don’t need tea,” I said. “I need answers. Feathers stuck out of Quoth’s skin. He had abeak. And then they just got sucked inside his body.”
“You may have spent four years in America, but you’re British at heart. Youneedtea.” Morrie pulled over his computer chair and folded his willowy frame into it. He steepled his fingers together like some cartoon super-villain, and watched me with those icicle eyes.
We waited in silence while the kettle boiled. My stomach churned with a mess of feelings – fear, suspicion, indignation, anger. The scream of the kettle rattled around my skull. A few moments later, Quoth appeared in the doorway, a tray balanced in his hands. Morrie reached up and collected his cup. Quoth held the tray out to Heathcliff, who grabbed a cup and raised it to his lips. That left one for me.
I took the hot cup and held it in my hands, but I didn’t trust myself to raise it to my lips without spilling, so I just rested it on the arm of the chair. Quoth had put too much milk in it, anyway.
“I’ve got my tea now. Start talking. Why is Quoth a… ashapeshifter?” The word should only be used in silly paranormal romance books. It shouldnotbe a word I spoke aloud to my new friends.
Morrie leaned forward. “You know how you joked about our names, how ridiculous it was that he was Heathcliff and I was James Moriarty, and I know you thought Quoth was an odd name, too.”
“Itisan odd name.”
“Our parents weren’t strange librarians who named us after characters from literature. Wearethose characters.” Morrie pointed to his chest. “IamJames Moriarty, mathematician and master criminal, and arch nemesis of Sherlock Holmes. HeisHeathcliff, spurned orphan and beloved of Cathy ofWuthering Heights. This here is Edgar Allen Poe’s raven, the one who perched upon a chamber door. We don’t know how we got here or why, but we’re definitely not supposed to exist in your world.”
Chapter Fourteen
Isnorted. “Right. Come off it. You said you were going to tell me the truth. I don’t want any more stories, especially not one this bloody stupid.”
“Itisa story, Mina,” Heathcliff said. “Wearethe stories. Think about it. Why else does Morrie seem completely unperturbed about his employer losing millions of quid overnight?”
Quoth gave me an apologetic look from the doorway. “Why else would feathers poke out of my skin, and you’ve never seen me and the raven in the same room together?”
“Why else is Heathcliff such a prick?” Morrie tossed in.
“But… but that’s impossible!” I cried.
“Agreed,” said Morrie. “I’ve been running computer simulations ever since I arrived here, trying to find an answer for how it happened. My conclusions have all been the same – we shouldn’t be here. And yet, here we are.”
“But…how?”
