Rowan didn’t speak. He kept his head down, striding with unusual speed and purpose. He wasn’t aware of the other pedestrians on the street. He barged through a large group of drunk guys and caused a woman with a stroller to swerve around him. He stepped out into the road without watching the traffic and Corbin had to grab his arm to yank him back.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I hissed to Corbin as we hurried to keep up with Rowan, who headed for the entrance to Regents Park.
“I think so.” Corbin didn’t offer any more information. I decided not to ask.Let Rowan tell his story, that was what Corbin always said.
The park was eerie at night – the trees casting long, spindly shadows across the ground. People appeared along dark pathways and from behind statues and fountains, and I kept looking over my shoulder, certain I felt an unwelcome presence behind us. Perhaps it was just the shadows of Rowan’s past, finally ready to be freed.
We came out the other side of the park and walked a couple more blocks. The only light in this area came from the moon and a few grimy streetlights. Towering warehouses and concrete office blocks lined narrow streets. Trash cluttered the drains and rolled across the pavement. Teens and young people darted between shadowed doorways, and cruel laughter punched through the crisp night air.
Rowan led us down to a narrow river – barely a trickle of dirty water in an unnaturally even hollow. Corbin whispered to me that it used to be one of the old canals that connected London to other parts of England before the extensive road and train networks were built. The road passed over the canal, creating a darkened underbridge bordered on both sides by the bare block faces of office blocks. A few people scattered into the shadows when we approached. I clutched Corbin’s arm so tightly my nails dug into his skin.
Rowan led us down underneath the bridge. He stared at the brick wall of the abutting office block for a long time, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. Cold air rose off the water, and my teeth chattered. The underbridge reeked of urine. Questions burned in my throat, but I knew I had to wait.
Rowan spoke, still facing the wall. “This was where I grew up.”
I glanced at Corbin, not understanding. “There used to be apartments here?”
Corbin shook his head. He didn’t answer. He waited for Rowan to fill in the blanks.
“You know both my parents died in the ritual.” Rowan’s voice shuddered. “They weren’t on speaking terms with anyone in their families, and so there was no one willing to take me in. I went into the care system, and I—” Rowan traced his hand over the faded bricks, the lines of graffiti that spoke of a life vastly different to mine. It was a long time before he spoke again.
“I didn’t get lucky like you, Maeve. No one adopted me. No one wanted the weird skinny black kid with the tics, except as a way to get their hands on government handouts or a punching bag or…” he shook his head. My stomach clenched. I wanted him to finish that sentence, and at the same time, I knew that hearing it would break my heart and his.
Rowan cleared his throat. He kept staring at the wall. “I ran away when I was ten to escape the abuse. I’d run away twice before, but they brought me back. The third time they must have decided I was more trouble than I was worth. Or maybe they couldn’t find me. Maybe they figured that if I couldn’t survive in a home, I’d be eaten alive out here. They were nearly right.”
“Where did you go?” I whispered.
“I came here. This building is a squat, Maeve. This office block has been abandoned for years. It doesn’t meet the building code, so the owners can’t rent or sell it. They’re just letting it slowly slide into the water. Kids who’ve been rejected by the system come here to live. Some are hiding from the law or the government. Some run anarchist collectives and political campaigns. We dumpster dive for clothes and supplies. We share scraps of food, cigarettes, and a laptop. We share needles.”
Rowan turned from the wall. The sorrow in his eyes wrecked me. Tears rolled down my face as his words registered.
Oh, Rowan, no.
He rolled up the sleeve of the long sweater he always wore, his sad eyes darting from me to Corbin and back to the wall. He jerked his arm toward me. On his skin, I saw something I’d never noticed, something he’d managed to hide even when our naked bodies were wrapped around each other.
My heart stopped as I stared at those tiny dots.Track marks.
“This is who I was,” Rowan whispered. “When Corbin brought me to Briarwood, I was a heroin addict. I didn’t care about anything except getting my next fix. I…there are things I did to get the money and the drugs that…”
Rowan shuddered, dissolving in his memories. My body ached to hold him in my arms, to travel back in time and find a way to bring him to Arizona with me, to give him back all the love he’d been deprived of while I had revelled in it.
Corbin stepped forward and placed his hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Mate, it’s okay.”
Rowan’s eyes widened, and I realised there was more. More horror he had to tell me. I wrapped my arms around him, wanting so badly to pour out something of me into him, to show him that it didn’t matter to me who he used to be. All I cared about was that he was my Rowan, and he was beautiful, and he was in pain.
I pressed my palm into his back, sending a sliver of spirit magic into Rowan, trying to calm him. His body shuddered against mine, and he sank against me as he gave in to the embrace. Corbin’s strong arms fell around us both, and the three of us rocked together, bracing Rowan against the onslaught of his memories.
“Maeve should know,” he whispered. “Especially because of the STI check-up?—”
Recognition crossed Corbin’s face. “Ah. Yes, she should.”
“Maeve should know what?”
Rowan took a shuddering breath. “A lot of the kids in the squat were desperate for money. It’s impossible to get a job if you don’t have an address, a bank account. We found other ways. We’re standing in a known spot where men can come if they…if they want to pay for sex.”
My throat closed. IknewI did not want to hear this. But I had to. I had to understand every part of Rowan.
“A lot of the street kids do it. I needed the money and I—was so out of it most of the time, it didn’t matter what they did to me.”
