Once I reached the stairs, I snatched the towel, stiff with dried salt water and smelling as though it had lived on this staircase for months, and wrapped it around my waist. It did not help to warm me up, but at least I was now covered. With my entire body shivering, I ascended the steep staircase. Upon reaching the top, my sore feet were thrilled to find the softness of dirt and grass, a pleasant change from the rocks I had been walking on for nearly half an hour.
I circled around and again faced the sea, a muted gray-blue offering a contrast to the bright-green grass and white cliffs, extending onward as far as I could see and fading easily into the gray sky. I loved this place. This was not how I thought I would find myself back here, but here I was. Back at Beachy Head. Alive. Alone and naked, butalive.
The reality finally punched me in the face. I let out an uncontrollable sound, half sob, half wail as I fell to my knees, the grass offering a decent cushion. I sobbed into my hands. I wished Lacy was beside me—she would make this feel more real.
Once my tears dried, I stood back up, adjusting the towel. The flood of emotions was still flowing through my veins, but I shoved those down for later. I needed to focus on getting back to my girl. In the short distance, I could see the pub. And next to it, a small brown hut wearing a sign announcing it as the location of the beachy head chaplaincy team. From what I could figure, that was a fancy way to say Search and Rescue.
It was midnight in Connecticut when Lacy was performing the spell. As long as my arrival here was instantaneous, it was likely somewhere between six and seven a.m., meaning the pub may not be open but the Chaplaincy Team would be. That was the place to go, but god, I needed a drink.
I trudged through the grass, across the road and into a car park. I approached the dark wooden door of the hut and pulled. It was locked. There was no way it was empty, though, so I knocked.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice ragged from lack of use. Or rather, from being brand new.
After a few moments, a middle-aged blonde woman opened the door. “May I help…?” She trailed off when she caught sight of me, bare-chested and barefoot with only the old towel around me. She kept the door cracked, ready to slam it shut at any moment.
“Yes, hi, sorry, it seems I’m in need of a little, uh, rescue?” I started to spit out a lie and actually felt a bit guilty. “I was on a boat. Fell off. Got left behind. Swam ashore. And, yeah.” I swore I was a better liar than this when I was a demon.Wasn’t I?
The woman’s face softened, and she opened the door all the way, gesturing me in. “Oh, you poor dear. Come in, come in.” Her eyes traveled down the length of me. “We have a lost property bucket you can have a sort through.” She pointed to a blue bin in the corner.
I knelt before it and began to dig through the clothing, noting immediately that the options of adult clothing were slim. I eventually came up with black joggers and a neon-orange T-shirt. For shoes, the only option in my size were a pair of those running shoes with the toes. It was better than nothing.
“You can change in the toilets in the back,” the woman said.
“Thanks.” I gathered the clothing then closed myself in the small restroom to pull it on. The joggers were tight like leggings, my package clearly outlined, but plenty long, and the shirt was way oversized, doing well to cover anything improper. At least my dick was no longer on display.
The woman smiled from behind her desk when I came back out. “There we are. Much better, I’m sure. Now, is there someone you would like to call?” She pushed a phone toward me.
“Yes,” I said, leaving out the fact that it was a US number I wanted to call. I picked up the phone, went to dial Lacy’s number, and… “Dammit. I don’t remember her number.” I racked my brain, but it wasn’t there. I knew it at one point, because Lacy knew it, but it turned out, I did not remember anything she didn’t tell or show me in her memory. Any of the little details I picked up from possessing her, phone number, address, parents’ names, were gone. I hung the phone back up. “I guess not. I can’t remember any phone numbers.”
She pulled the phone back toward herself with a frown. “All right, well, I’ll go ahead and phone the ambulance, then.”
“No!” I cleared my throat. “Uh, no thank you. No need. I’m fine. Fingers and toes all normal colors and no weird pain spots or anything.”
The woman puffed out her lip, looking like she knew she should fight against me, argue protocol, but didn’t have the energy. “Well, why don’t you give me your name? I’m sure there are people looking for you.”
I said, “Ton—” before stopping short. I corrected myself, “Christopher Mitchell.” My human name. I shook my head. “If I could get to Eastbourne, I’m sure I could figure something out.”
The woman peered at me. “You won’t have any cash on you, will you now? I can lend you some for a bus ticket.”
I shook my head, even though that was exactly what I wanted. “No, no, I can’t ask you for that.”
The woman shrugged. “You’ve had a tough morning. It’s the least I can do.” She pulled out ten pounds and handed it my way. “Next bus will be at ten o’clock. May as well settle yourselfin.” She reached into her desk to pull out a protein bar and a small bottle of water. “Here you are. Get a little energy into you.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the snack and water. “I think I’ll wait outside, if that’s all right. I do love this place.”
The woman smiled. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? If you have any questions or happen to come up with someone to ring, I’ll be here.”
I gave one last thank-you and left through the front door. I walked back to the cliffs and took a seat so I could stare out at the ocean. The clock on the wall of the office said it was 6:48 a.m., so I had plenty of time to spare until the bus arrived. I breathed in the salty air, and for the first time in twenty or five hundred years, depending on how you looked at it, I felt true peace.
The bus arrived hours later,and I climbed aboard with no idea what I would do once I arrived in Eastbourne, I just knew it was the closest city. London would be better. I knew I had connections in London. Hallett resided primarily in London. What I wanted to ask for was for him to jump me back to Lacy, but I did not want him to know I was now human. He was generally trustworthy, but he was still a demon. I knew he could acquire a fake passport for me, but that would require money.
Once I got off the bus, I began to wander. I strode past an art shop and had an idea. I didn’t want to shoplift, but I had only five pounds left, and that would not be enough. I strolled in, said hello to the shopkeeper, then found a pack of watercolorpaper and a kid’s set of watercolors. I shoved them in my pants and discovered they were easily hidden by my oversized shirt. I found a nicer paintbrush for three pounds and purchased that, saying farewell to the shopkeeper as I left.
I set myself up near the beach and pulled out my supplies. I started to paint everything I saw around me. Watercolor was not my preferred art medium, but it worked for a pastel coastal town such as this. Once I finished, I would lay the paintings out to dry. After I had a few complete, I also painted a sign advertising the paintings for twenty pounds. It wouldn’t earn me enough for the passport, but it would be enough for the train ride and some cash to spare.
People would glance at the artwork, but I wasn’t receiving any bites until a group of young tourists came around and startedooo-ing andah-ing at the paintings. I sold four paintings, making eighty pounds, which would be enough. I packed up my supplies and climbed a steep hill to the train station, where I bought a ticket in cash from a man in the booth. I boarded the train and was soon off to London. Easy enough.
But as I pulled into London Victoria station, I knew the trek was about to become very difficult. While I knew from whom I could acquire a fake passport, I didn’t know how to find him. And I was starting to get tired. Exhausted, in fact. The day was nearly over, the sky growing dark. I considered the money I still had, a little less than sixty pounds. This could pay for a one-night stay at some hotel with eighteen beds to a room. But it also needed to pay for food. I wasn’t starving, but that was right now. Hunger was a feeling I had honestly forgotten about, butnow it was looming like a monster waiting to attack.
