49. Silver (part 3)
By a cab, in the lamplight. Beverly, cascading around them. Unseen and ever-present.
His body bent slightly, arms lax and gently looped about the frail shoulders of an old woman.
She looked familiar. Peter had seen her before.
She didn't see him now.
She pat Cecil's hands from the shadows within the carriage and tremulously reached into her purse.
To Peter's befuddlement, Cecil protested against the motion. But the old lady took no notice of his complaints. She dropped a couple of coins into his open hand and closed it gently. The silver twinkled in the lamplight.
Light takes many forms.
And Cecil tipped his bunnet a touch, smiling. And the old woman said something to the driver.
And the footman closed the thin black door. Eyes empty and puzzled. He must have been wondering why this old lady had taken so long to demand the carriage shut. Or who she was speaking to so softly.
No one else saw Cecil Mature, with his elegant dark hands and grey coat and easy smile, but an old woman caked in silk, driving away into the streetlight, and the ghost of a thief, dressed in black, quietly staring with his eyes wide open from behind the cab.
Beverly winked from the wheels of the carriage. And blazed in his eyes and the gigantic mouth of the Avenue. And Cecil walked over to him and nonchalantly flipped a single quarter in the air.
With a yelp Peter Lake caught it in midair and shut his fist around it with such force that the edges of the coin burned into his flesh. Cecil winked and chuckled and walked past him breezily.
"Wh- You can't give me this!" he stuttered, astonished, following him.
"I'm your friend, aren't I?"
"I don't think that's how this works, Cecil."
"A harness can be given back by a friend of your own making. You can borrow my light for a little bit."
"You are reckless."
"Give it some decades. You'll become so, too."
We have nothing but time.
Peter Lake timidly opened his hand and stared at the coin, cocooned in the grey shadows formed by his palms and his fingers. Brilliant whites encircled the rim in a thin, elegant sweep.
Feel me as I feel you.
The center was warm and rusty and it smelled of skin and sweat and perfume. And Peter Lake felt dizzy from the sensation of merely remembering what money smelled like. The chains among the living. He'd known money. He'd been a thief for so long.
He couldn't continue being one, now that he was dead.
"The last time I borrowed a harness, I lost it. I can't keep borrowing light, Cecil, I want to find some of my own."
"Did that charming boy have any to spare?"
"No."
"Then borrow mine. A gift is not a theft, Peter. Remember."
I see you've got your doubt back.
He still existed because Beverly had spared him a space in her star. A piece he'd lost, one she'd never get back.
A green earring. Her earrings, ones she'd worn the night she'd died.
A coin. Cecil's coin. Fragments of the world, scraps given to the dead. A language he didn't speak. Wings he didn't have. A ticket to the sea of stars above him, invisible roads of angels and spirits.
How could borrowing not feel like stealing, in this scenario? He was borrowing the very bones that constructed him. Whatever he was now, he was because he'd been stolen away from a dark and depthless death.
You're not my theft, Peter. You're not trespassing.
"You can fly now?" he asked.
"I hope so."
"And me?"
"Beverly's star still harbors your soul. If you do fly, I suggest you lighten your load. Like I said, our vessels are small."
Beverly had not been able to fly again until he'd been reclaimed by the city and lost his means to return to her star. His reformed soul, put back on the world to make use of the gift she'd given him.
Even if he could crawl into the light with this coin and fly toward the sky, he'd probably wind up in the water, near her tent, not within it.
This silver could only buy him a journey, not a destination. As would be any other light he was given, he now knew, until he found the red-haired child.
Only a miracle was needed to pay for such a thing.
"I thought as much," he replied. "I was just curious."
"You can use that coin any way you want. Remember all I told you."
"I won't give it away," he muttered, frowning.
Cecil smiled back at him. "Don't promise anything, Peter."
Peter Lake slicked back a strand of black hair away from his eyes. Shook his shoulders, burrowing his chin in the folds of his coat. Dug his closed fist into his pocket and kept it closed, the coin within it, reeking of humanity.
Such strange machines. Such strange things he'd witnessed.
That horses made of sunshine could fly and melt into the sky. That the sky was an ocean. That an unfulfilled miracle weighed humans down to the world like gravity, in life, in death. That coins could sink into bloodless flesh and make it burn.
That Beverly remained Beverly, in the flesh, in the wind, in the light.
That he existed, against all odds, that he existed still. That he felt. That the world remained the world.
That caresses remained caresses, and kisses kisses, and coins… coins.
Author's Note: To anyone who is here today, thank you for reading.
I am finally on summer break and it shows cause I have been extremely productive and experimental and at peace this whole week, it's been glorious. I also got my hands on RPGMaker, if you follow me on Instagram you've probably seen me experiment with it on my stories :3 Of course the first thing I did was create sprites for Peter and for Beverly, as I learn how to navigate the program. I literally got it with an 85% off, which must have been a sign.
Anyhoo. Cecil has coins again! I actually wrote chapters 49 and 50 at the same time to speed up my writing, and initially I wanted him to receive paper money, through which he couldn't actually fly or communicate through light, but... I realized I needed to add some action to these chapters. Cause Cecil and Peter are dead, and Peter is in limbo and harbored in Beverly's tent until he can finish his work on Earth, and I hinted at the fact that Cecil has one more "vessel" to help build - one more miracle he wants to help deliver, before he considers retiring. I have mentioned before that the pacing of WT was a bit rushed and my fanfics demonstrate that I deeply craved more time with these characters, especially Peter and Beverly... but I feel like I need to move things along. I made Peter get his first eyewitness, so, I need to have him do stuff.
Now that I have given him coins, let's see what he does with them. Peter has never been one to think in an economic sense, if you recall the "chocolate" chapters XD Oh well.
It's 1:40 am for me right now so that'll be all for this Author's Note. I promise to have something more refined next time. Thank you, as always, here's your hug *hug* and see you again soon :3
July 6 2024 - Some edits. Cause Cecil can fly again now, and I needed to emphasize that :3