Moon Spell

“What the hell are you so merry about?” one of Gladstone’s men asked Bellamy.

“Nothing. Am I not allowed to be alone with my own thoughts?”

“Not if you want to collect more coins for the boss. You don’t look tired or poor enough. Do you need something to cry about?” He clenched his fist, possibly ready to deliver a beating. Bellamy had seen it before and had been able to avoid more than a shove or scowl here or there.

The smile immediately slipped from his face. He’d forgotten himself, and it would not serve him well. “Sorry.”

The man with the greasy black hair grunted and moved on. Bellamy quickly refocused on his task, or he would have hell to pay later. He avoided looking in Ashwood’s direction, and the one time their eyes did connect, he knew Ashwood understood what had transpired. He appeared morose, and Bellamy prayed to make him smile again. He longed for the day to end so he could feel his warmth again when they retired to bed for the evening. His stomach grumbled, and he hoped there was something more substantial to eat this time. But he suspected it helped Gladstone’s business to keep them looking on the thin and scraggly side. The bastard.

When they were finally whistled in for the evening, Gladstone was waiting for them at the door with his hand out. The currency Bellamy had collected was less than expected, undoubtedly because they’d slipped away, and now Bellamy felt guilty and a bit frightened.

“What the hell is this?” Gladstone said, holding up the meager offering.

“Don’t worry, I made enough for the both of us,” Ashwood said, throwing an expensive pocket watch into the mix, then winking at Bellamy.

Gladstone’s eyes lit up before he turned his scrutiny on Bellamy. “You’re lucky he looks out for you.”

“What do you mean?” Ashwood protested. “We’re a team. He keeps watch while I plunder poor unsuspecting gentlemen’s pockets.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Gladstone said, apparently not believing Bellamy had anything to do with it, and he’d be right. “I expect double tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” Bellamy said and was relieved when Gladstone turned his scrutiny on someone else.

“It’s probably unwise to leave our posts like that again,” Bellamy said that night as they lay next to each other after consuming a bowl of barely edible stew.

“I don’t care,” Ashwood replied, meeting his eyes, and the green in them sparkled brilliantly against the moon. “I wouldn’t have been able to touch you like that and at leisure. It meant everything to me.”

Bellamy smiled. “To me as well.”

Ashwood leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Someday, there will be a place we can call our own, and we will answer to no one.”

Bellamy sighed dreamily. “I look forward to it.”

Ashwood grabbed his hand. “Promise me,” he said, sounding desperate.

“Promise you what?”

“That when the time comes, you will leave with me no matter what. That you’ll let me explain some things about my life that have been too difficult or dangerous to share.”

For the first time, an ominous feeling washed over Bellamy. He felt scared that something would happen to him or Ashwood, or both. It was the strangest thing, and he could not shake it as he stared into Ashwood’s eyes. But Ashwood looked so lost and forlorn right then, Bellamy couldn’t deny him anything. “I promise.”

That night he dreamed of his mother and the promise he’d made to her when he was still a child.

“Come inside, Bellamy,” his mother said warily from the doorway, always overly cautious if he stepped out at night. But their room in Destiny’s Fall was small, and he grew restless in the stuffy sitting area, eager for fresh air, especially at night, when it was cooler. Sometimes he would see her stare at the moon like it was seducing her, which didn’t make much sense—why she was so afraid, yet also equally captivated. But he supposed he felt the same way.

“I was only enjoying the breeze,” he grumbled, making his way back inside.

“It does feel nice. I shall crack open the window for you.” She placed a chair right below the sash and lifted him up so he could look out onto the quiet street. “We must be wary of rabid animals. Many come out at night to attack, so we must be careful. Promise me.” Her explanation did not make much sense because he’d heard no such gossip in town, but he heeded her warning anyway.

“I promise.”

He awoke in a cold sweat from the dream, wondering if she’d had some premonition about her own untimely death. She’d kept him so sheltered, only taking him with her to the market or to the servants’ quarters where she worked for the wealthy Smythe family.

When Ashwood shifted and wrapped him tighter in his arms as if somehow knowing even in his sleep that he needed to comfort Bellamy, he sighed, feeling safe again.