I stayed with them for six months. Tom wheedled out of me when my birthday was and we celebrated at a kids place, an idea that had come over from the states; pizza parlor, game room and play area. I was still mentally only about seven---I had died the first time at five years old, lived unchanged and unknowing for five more in the group home to emerge as a ten year old but with the mental attitude of that earlier five year old. Since then, my learning had approached that of my peers in the academy but deep down, I was still that scared five year old in a fourteen-year-old body.
“How old were you when I disappeared, Tom?” I asked around a piece of chocolate marble cake with white whipped frosting. Gooey sweet.
“Sixteen. You’d been with Suzy only about a year. Small, quiet, runty kid. Told us some great stories. Were they all true?”
“I wonder myself. I know I used to embroider them some, especially about Neddie.”
“He was real, Aidan. I looked him up in the history books.”
“You looked up a book?” I was agape and he cuffed me on the head.
“You daft nit! I can read, you know,” he growled, sounded just like my dad.
I grinned. “The Tom I knew would have thrown the book at me.”
He grumped. “I’ve learned a bit since then, brat. There’s the newest craze from the States. Want to give it a go?” He pointed to a flat wall that rose twenty-five meters high with nubby projections that several kids were attempting to climb. A padded mat was set around its base. “Climbing wall.”
I studied it; saw it had two possible routes that would take you to the top. Any other sequence would leave you hanging until you fell off because the next hand or foot hold was out of reach.
Tom said, “Go for it.”
I was up in a flash and climbed it easily; my fingers and feet knew exactly what to do. Once at the top, I looked down from my flat perch and was disappointed it had been so easy.
“Alright, you monkey. Come down, you made your point.” Tom yelled and I scampered down faster than I’d go up.
“Weren’t you scared, Aidan?” Cammy asked. “I’m afraid of heights. How do you do it?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. It’s like breathing. I just do it without thinking.”
“Well, happy birthday, Aidan. Let’s go back to the table and open your present.”
“My present? You bought me a gift?”
They handed me a small box and I tore it open with all the eagerness of a kid at his first Christmas. Inside, I found a wallet of beautiful leather and silver. Inside that was my own ID in my real name with my DOB, my enhanced passport so I could travel through Europe, a railway pass with unlimited mileage and dates; a bankbook with an ATM card. “I’ve put your ten thousand in there, Aidan. Plus a bit more.”
I didn’t know what to say, in fact, I was speechless. I was going to start bawling but Tom gave me such a stern look I paused.
“Don’t be such a waterspout,” he said gruffly. “I know you think you’re only nine or ten but you’re really older than that. We just celebrated your fourteenth.”
“Technically, I’m 36,” I sniffled. “Hey, does this mean I’m old enough to drink?”
“No,” both of them jumped. “Let’s finish your pizza and go for a movie.”
“Do I get to pick?”
“It is your birthday. No horror flicks, okay? I don’t like those,” Tom shuddered.
“No gooey love stories, either,” I came back. “All that kissing is gross.”
They laughed so we settled on the new cop/criminal car chase wonder that was making the rounds from the US.
I ate my weight in popcorn and candy, even after the big pizza and birthday cake. Tom grumbled over my hollow legs. We were home by midnight and his bodyguards followed discretely in their own separate vehicle. Nearly back, we were pulled over by an unmarked police car with a clip on light and two detective inspectors got out and approached the Mercedes limo with the guards in close attendance. Tom sat, his face stoic but I saw the muscle twitching on his eyelid. Cammy laid her hand on his arm not so gently. Her fingers were white.
The two men were tall, well dressed. Both fair-haired with light blue eyes and they leaned in the rear window and studied us. When they spoke, I heard the Midlands and a trace of Dutch. “Good evening, Mr. Watson. Mrs. Watson,” the Dutch one said. “Nice looking boy. Is he yours?”
“What do you want, Van Gilder?” Tom snapped.
“Just to say hullo, Tom. One of your customers just turned up dead in a Surrey maize field. Minus a few parts. Been dead a few months. Name of Jeremy Alistair, called himself the Beast.
“Nasty piece that. Fancied himself some kind of witch, and had sexual orgies. Pervert. Kids were disappearing in his neighborhood.”
“Warlock,” I interrupted and the other one looked at me, too.
“Oh aye? What’s your name, lad?”
“Aidan.”
“Warlock?”
“A witch is always female. A warlock is the male,” I offered.
“And who might you be, young Socrates?”
“No one you need to know about, Peelstone,” Tom said, tight lipped.
“Oh, but we need to know all your acquaintances, Mr. Watson,” he said snidely. “Seeing how you are associated with such sterling characters.
“Still, the Beasts loss was no sad thing. His neighbors noticed the unusual amount of missing and dead animals. Missing kids in the district had gone up, too. Boy name of Zane Grey is missing. Know anything about that?”
His eyes were steady on mine and I blurted out, “Zane Grey was a western writer from the US.”
“Was he now? You read a lot, Aidan?”
“Yes.”
“Leave the boy alone, DI. He’s a bit simple.”
“He’s a pretty boy. Remarkable eyes. Never seen eyes that purple color before. Except for…” He seemed lost in thought, went on. “He was a sexual predator, we found out. A criminal barrister, too. Let all kinds of wankers out on technicalities. Liked little boys, he did. Fact is many parents are glad he’s dead. Are you, Aidan?”
I didn’t say anything and he waited a minute while the silence grew and then slapped the car door.
“Good evening, Om. Mrs. Watson. Aidan. Drive carefully.” They walked back to their car; got in and drove off.
Tom didn’t say anything the ride back but sent me to bed as soon as we arrived.