High Society

It was hard to keep from chuckling, so no one bothered holding back.

“Oh, Zeke… the croissants were lovely, but there simply was not enough butter,” Danny said when Helen and Zeke, laden-down with a large platters of pancakes, bacon and baskets of fresh fruit, returned to the dining table on the back porch. “Do you think you could bring some more out after you and Helen go back?”

Zeke narrowed his eyes but nodded. Helen’s lips were pursed tight; it was obvious that it wasn’t just the boys who were amused by their new ‘maid’.

“And the coffee… who made that this morning?” Henry asked, tipping his half-empty mug their way.

“That was me, sweet-Henry,” Helen said with a note of warning, still smiling.

“Oh--well it’s lovely!” the boy said. “But we need more of it. Ezekiel, please bring more out when you return with the butter.”

“And where’s the jam? My, our new serving-boy is lazy,” Jamie chimed in.

Casey put his fist up to press against his lips. Any moment now, he was going to outright guffaw at the situation. It only grew worse when Noah finally arrived; having not been around for any of the action the night before, his confusion in seeing Zeke’s server-status was palpable. Everyone trembled with sobs of laughter as Noah sat beside Casey, staring at Zeke with his brow furrowed. When he looked to Casey for answers, Casey giggled in titters. ‘I’ll tell you later. It’s hilarious.’ he signed.

“Oh, and also, Zeke--” Danny went to say, but with Helen having left the room, Zeke whipped his head to the boy and snarled.

“You… you all can just…” he stopped, took a breath and sniffed. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

Everyone snorted and began tucking in. Amused glances were exchanged as they ate; after a minute, Zeke returned, dumped dishes of butter and jam on the table unceremoniously then left the porch once again. “So cranky,” Jamie said.

“How much sleep did the poor bloke get?” James asked Casey.

“I dunno if he did, at all. I heard him tossing, turning, muttering…” Casey replied.

“Poor dear. Well, that’s what he gets, scaring us like that,” James said.

“Scaring us? I was just fine. ‘Knew it was bull from the start,” Danny said while chewing a mouthful of bacon.

“Oh, is that why you were gripping my hand so hard you nearly broke all of my fingers?” Henry asked.

“You too, huh?” James said.

As Danny glared between them, Jamie chuckled. “Well, I gotta say… sorry, Casey. But it WAS a good story and joke. Not that, you know, you being scared was funny, per se…”

“It was hilarious. Sorry, chum,” Henry told Casey with a cocky expression.

“Mmhmm,” Casey hummed.

“So, what are we all doing today?” Danny asked. “Same as yesterday?”

“N’aw. I was thinking of the library again,” Jamie said.

“Whatta s’prise,” Danny remarked.

“I’ll go with you,” Henry told Jamie, who brightened.

“Nice, anyone else?”

Danny shook his head. “I might try to catch another flicker.”

“What’s out?” James asked.

“Everybody Sing’. It’s either that or seeing that ridiculous space-one at the cheapie-theater on eighth again.”

“That sounds like fun.” James now looked at Casey and raised his eyebrows. “What’re you gonna be doing? Do you and Noah want to watch a movie with us?”

“Dumb dope. He won’t be able to hear it.” Henry pointed out.

“Oh… well…”

Perhaps Casey should have felt good that Noah was being included in plans instead of ignored, but the idea that his plans didn’t include him or anyone else--here, at least--made his stomach tighten. “Actually, I’m thinking of going to the Met.”

“The… opera house?” Danny asked. When Casey nodded, he chuckled derisively. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“No. I’d like to see what’s there. I’ve never been to an opera before,” Casey replied.

“And I’ve never been to church, because I know it’s dead boring,” Danny said. “From all accounts, opera may as well BE church.”

“Well, I’m going,” Casey stated definitively.

“Then you’re goin’ it alone,” Danny told him with a wink.

‘Good,’ Casey thought with relief. He then looked to Noah and bit his lip; guilt filled him as he nudged his arm. Once he had the boy’s attention, he began signing. ‘I was thinking of going to the opera. Some others are going to the library and the movies?’

Noah shrugged. ‘Library sounds nice.’

“Noah would like to go to the library, he says,” Casey told Jamie and Henry.

“Fine by me,” Jamie said, smiling.

Casey eased back in his seat and continued eating, fighting back the guilt that still resided in him. He had to see the good in things; Noah was being accepted by the others, able to join them for some fun. Absolutely no one wanted to go to the opera, so Casey was safe. They’d never know where he’d really been. Yet still, Casey found that he couldn’t look anyone in the eye in the remaining ten minutes of their meal.


~*~


“The opera.”

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

“The opera.”

Casey rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth as he pulled his mittens on. So far, Noah, Henry and Jamie had left together, while Danny and James waited by the door for their turn to go. This left Casey and Zeke in the parlor, where Casey was having a hard time not snapping Zeke’s head off. “Yes, Zeke, the opera. The opera, the opera, the opera.”

“What’re you gonna see? What’s showing?” Zeke asked.

“I’m not really sure. I suppose I’ll see when I get there,” Casey replied.

“Huh. Well, suit yourself. I’m not in the mood to sit in a stuffy opera house and listen to screeching and howling. I’m surprised I’m going out at all… fuck, I’m tired..”

‘Good, good, GOOD,’ Casey thought. While he’d been sure that Zeke would scoff at Casey’s supposed plans, it was still a relief that he’d be alone. Able to do as he pleased, without anyone finding out. “Maybe you should stay home, then,” Casey said.

“Neh. I’ll have some coffee and perk up. Whatever.”

“Okay boys, get set to go,” Stephen told them.

Zeke stood to a groan and joined Casey’s side to head to the doorway. Casey’s skin was tingling with excitement, anticipation and just a tiny bit of fear. Even with everyone’s indifference, this was quite the risk and he knew it. When they got the go-ahead and a “Have a nice time, boys,” from Stephen (making MORE guilt seep in), they opened the door, hopped down the stairs and met the sidewalk.

“So… I guess I’ll snag a subway down here at the twenty-eighth,” Casey said, trying to act cool and casual. “I’ll have a look at the map.”

“’K. I’ll see you off, then,” Zeke replied.

Casey sniffed and tried keeping composure. When he realized that he didn’t know where the Metropolitan was, he coughed in titters into his hand. How was he going to lie? “Hmm. Yea,” he said. Relying on feigned ignorance, he asked, “The Met--it’s on the west side of the city, right?”

The look Zeke gave him made him panic; he looked confused and… wary? “Yea. Sixty-fifth, from what I remember,” Zeke said,

“Hah, for someone who doesn’t like opera, you know where the place IS.”

“Well, you live in the city long enough, you know this shit,” Zeke said. Now at the stairwell leading to the subways, Zeke clucked his tongue. “C’mon, we’ll take a look at the map, I’ll tell you which train works best.”

“I can do it,” Casey said, but Zeke followed him anyway. It grew difficult for him to keep his breathing even and his face calm as they approached the large map just past the stairwell.

Zeke scanned it a moment then nodded. “Yea, you’ll want the one-two-three. That shoots you right to Lincoln Center, a step away from the Met.”

Casey looked to the spot Zeke pointed at and wanted to groan. Going by his ‘secret rendezvous’, he needed the blue-lettered trains. Taking the A, C or E would bring him directly to seventy-second, which was only half a block away from Cal’s apartment building. “Yea, okay,” he said anyway, then hoisted his bag higher onto his shoulder. “Thanks--’guess I’ll see you later on tonight.”

“Yea. Sure.”

With a forced smile, Casey waved at Zeke after stepping away, turned towards the token counter and bought his fare. He kept walking; he threw one last glance over his shoulder just before going through the turnstile. Zeke was lighting a cigarette and going to the stairs in slow steps. Casey breathed easier and rounded the corner, entering the train platforms.

A scowl came on his face. The numbered-train sat nearby, waiting for passengers. He wouldn’t be joining the people going through its doors, of course. He stood against the wall and waited. The fear he’d been carrying started drifting off, leaving him tense with elation. His scowl melted from his face and he smiled, for real this time.

He could only imagine Cal’s face when he showed up, the smile he’d wear in finding Casey at his doorstep. What would they do together? Casey assumed they’d stay in the apartment, not wanting to take the risk going out only to run into familiar faces. This was just fine, of course; they’d have their own afternoon, where no money exchanged hands in order for them to be together.

A few minutes after the 1-train left the platform, an A-train pulled up. Casey stood straight, smiled and hopped on, his head full of dreamy possibilities and hopes.


~*~


“You… you made it.”

It was better than Casey had visualized; Cal stood before him in the opened doorway of his apartment, wearing an elated expression. His clothes were casual, plain slacks and a dark gray sweater, unlike the fine dress he usually had on. “I said I’d do my best,” Casey said in a coy, playful voice.

“That you did… oh sweetheart, come in, come in,” Cal said. He opened the door wide and stepped aside to let Casey walk in.

Now in the apartment, Casey looked around in awe. If this was a ‘second home’ to Cal, he wondered what his real home looked like. It was minimalist but bright and clean, the décor simple but rich-looking. Passing by the doorway to the left, Casey caught sight of the kitchen. State-of-the-art appliances and marble countertops seemed to shimmer. “It’s so very nice,” Casey said.

Cal’s hands fell on his shoulders; the man slipped Casey’s coat from him and hung it up on the coat-rack by the front door. He next took Casey‘s mittens, hat and scarf. “Go on and take your shoes off, get comfortable--oh!” Cal shot in front of him before Casey ventured off into the living room. “Not yet. Shoes off, wait for me.”

“All right,” Casey said, delightfully confused. He did as he was instructed, removing his socks as well. This allowed him to feel the soft, plush carpeting; he wriggled his toes and smiled. “Lovely.”

“Mmm, yes, you are,” Cal said, winking. Casey giggled and shook his head; before he could reply, Cal moved behind him and placed his hands over his eyes. “Just follow me.”

“Oh my… what have you done?” Casey asked. If he felt any more excited, he’d burst. He took tentative steps, following Cal’s movements. Once they stopped, Cal moved away and sighed.

“Open them.”

Casey did so and immediately gasped. They stood in a wide, spacious sitting room; the floor was covered in large cushions and throw blankets. The nearby table held an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne inside. A fire roared away in the fireplace, candles on every available surface…

“Now I can light them,” Cal said. He ran his hand over Casey’s shoulders, took a book of matches from his pocket and went around to the tapers. Little points of light grew in numbers, at least ten or twelve of them altogether, coming to life and creating romantic orbs of light.

“All this… for me?” Casey softly asked.

Cal lit the last candle, blew out the match and turned to Casey with a warm smile. “Of course. Who do you think I’ve been hoping to see? Danny?”

This made Casey laugh. “Lord, no, but…” he sighed and watched as Cal came over to him. The man slipped his hands around Casey’s hips to his back, all to gently pull him in, lean down and put their lips together. It was so warm and wonderful, the way he moved; Casey’s limbs felt as if they’d turned into jelly. When Cal moved back and put their foreheads together, Casey let out a shaky breath. “What… what if I hadn’t come?”

“Then I’d have sat around getting drunk on expensive champagne in a candlelit room, all by myself,” Cal replied. He stole another peck from Casey’s lips then grinned wide. “But I knew you’d come. I knew.”

“But--” Casey went to speak, but his customer-turned-lover decided to start kissing him again, and he was fine with that.


~*~


While a clock was usually ticking away the time that was paid for, everything was now slowed down to allow nothing but pure, lazy enjoyment. The two of them lie together on the cushions, their skin and insides warmed by the fire, two glasses of champagne and unbridled lust.

It’d been embarrassing to lose it mere moments after Casey was made nude and Cal’s tongue had swiped over his cock two times. No ‘lasting-practice’ sessions had been spent with Zeke, and Casey had proved such by sending streams of seed onto his thighs and Cal’s chin with the smallest of contact, but it hadn’t mattered. After all, it had been almost two hours since then and they still had many more left. Add the fact that Cal simply adored Casey and his eager, desperate body and they were perfectly matched.

“Mmm…” Cal hummed past their kiss, which was lasting forever. Hands traveled over each other in smooth swoops, both of them exploring the other in ways they hadn’t been able to do before. It was downright religious, with Casey feeling sanctified by Cal’s touch. When the man reached between Casey’s legs to rouse him a third time, Casey opened them and hummed with pleasure as well. Cal bent away and kissed the tip of Casey’s nose. “I could bottle you up… drink you, every day,” he said.

“Hmm… strange thing to say,” Casey replied with a tiny giggle.

“Oh, no. You taste…” Cal ran his tongue from Casey’s temple to just under his ear, making the boy irk out a groan and shudder. “…Divine.”

This was getting deep--thick with romance and closeness, something Casey knew better to get into. But he couldn’t help it. He’d never felt this way before, and getting to be here in private… no one to bother them…

“Cal?”

“Hmm?”

Casey ran his tongue along his lip, going into deep thought. “Do you really--really, really care about me?”

The man bent up and moved to his side. With his elbow bent to prop his head up on his hand, he ran his other hand over Casey’s belly and chest. “It’s dangerous to… but yes, Casey. I do.”

“Dangerous… as in you’re not supposed to,” Casey said. Cal nodded slowly; Casey made a small, sad smile. “And I’m definitely barred from this sort of… thing.”

“I know. We’re safe, but--secret. And it needs to stay that way.”

“Mmm. Believe me, I’ve been warned a thousand times.”

“Oh? About me, what we’re doing?”

Casey sighed and a real smile formed on his face. He turned on his side as well to face Cal as he spoke. “I think they’re jealous, honestly. Especially Zeke.”

“Oh… that one.” Cal snorted and made an amused expression. “I assume he’s jealous of me, not the other way around?”

“Yes. I don’t know, it’s silly to think, but… he’s been the most avid with the warnings. And… well, can I admit something?” Casey asked.

“Admit away,” Cal said, waggling his eyebrows.

Casey couldn’t help giggling as he said, “I myself look back sometimes. He is quite handsome. Stubborn and moody, but handsome.”

“Really now?”

“Is that bad? I mean, it might be rude, having fondness for two people at the same time--you and him, meaning.”

“No, it happens. But… may I give you my own warnings?”

The boy blinked and nodded again. “Yes?”

With a great, deep breath, Cal reached over to where his cigarettes sat. He lit two, handed Casey one and exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Mind, it doesn’t leave these walls. I really shouldn’t say anything that could cause friction between you and the other boys. But with what you’ve just confided, I want you to be careful with him.”

“Zeke?”

The man pursed his lips and ran a finger over Casey’s ear, trailing through his hair. “I started going to Stephen’s six months ago, almost exactly. I saw many boys come in and out, while some others seemed to be permanent fixtures. Zeke was one of them. He was the usual mysterious, broody character as he is now. Of course, I knew what he’d get up to when someone would buy him. Whether it was taking or giving… you know,” Cal explained. He took another drag and kept talking. “Meanwhile another boy, Martin, was the same, only without as much bruising and roughness.”

Casey nodded slowly. “I knew Martin. It was how I found Stephen’s.”

“Yes, a very sweet boy. Anyway…” Cal fiddled with the cigarette in his fingers and sighed. “They roomed together--Martin and Zeke meaning. From what I gleaned from the other boys, they’d started up something under Stephen’s nose. When the poor boy started to get sick and stopped working, Zeke turned into an even more moody young upstart. They stopped rooming altogether, Zeke sleeping in Danny and Jamie’s room to make sure he didn’t catch what Martin had. The poor thing was quarantined up until his death.”

This sad--and mysterious--story was making Casey sniff and stare at the pillow underneath his head. “Yes,” was all he could say.

“Mmm… on one evening, I was standing with Danny by the pool table. The little upstart had partaken of a little wine and became loose-lipped,” Cal said. “He stood there watching Zeke--again, he was moodier than usual, and it showed. Then Danny shook his head and said, ‘He’s just mad because he can’t fuck and beat on Martin anymore.’”

Casey blinked furiously again. “Fuck… and beat?”

“I guess some of the bruising wasn’t from the customers. Though it wasn’t officially known, it’d been obvious that the two of them had something going on. The way I see it…” Cal paused and looked at Casey with a firm gaze. “…Zeke likes to manipulate. Stephen’s always had problems with him breaking rules, but for some reason he doesn’t let him go. And if he did have something going with Martin, well…”

“But…” The implications were astounding, and Casey was having a hard time believing in what he was being told. “As I said, he’s been the one who’s given me the most warnings, whatever else.”

“Perhaps he’s changed… somewhat. Maybe Stephen’s scared him enough to straighten him out. But if he’s getting into you as he had with Marty…” Cal said, drifting off a moment before continuing. “…Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

“All… right,” Casey hesitantly said. “I will.”

“Good. I’d hate to see you hurt,” Cal replied. His somber expression faded and he smiled. He made an exaggerated moan and moved up onto his hands; now hovering over Casey, he took the boy’s hands and laced their fingers together. “We still have some time left, and we haven’t even made love yet. Want to change that?”

As much as Casey’s mind was still set on the information Cal had shared, his thighs tingled and he grinned. “Brilliant idea,” he said.


~*~


The bath had been slow and luxurious, easing Casey’s body into complete bliss. After they were clean, he dressed and made his sad goodbyes. Cal had kissed him like no one else could while promising that his return that weekend would bring Casey yet another night to remember. He walked Casey to the elevator, blowing a kiss just before the doors closed.

Giddy and feeling lighter than air, he walked through the main foyer and out the door. He was surprised to see that snow was coming down in large flakes, making the streetlights look dim, even up close. Hugging his coat and scarf close to him, Casey made to set off to the subway station.

“How was it?”

The sudden voice to his right made Casey practically jump out of his already-chilled skin. Horror filled him at a rapid pace as he found Zeke standing in the doorway of the apartment building next to Cal’s. “Wha… what are you doing here?” Casey managed to ask through the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I asked my question first, so why don’t you answer it?” Zeke said. His voice was cold, making it obvious that he already knew what was going on.

“I…” Casey said, but he couldn’t go on. He turned to keep walking, his pace fast, even if it meant that his feet slipped on the patches of ice in his way. Zeke, however, wasn’t about to leave him alone.

“So even with the biggest rule of the house in place, you break it? Answer my fucking question.” Zeke grabbed Casey’s arm, forcing the boy to stop and face him. “How WAS it? Huh? Worth risking your stay at Stephen’s?”

Casey jerked away and almost ran in the road. A cab needed to stop quickly to avoid hitting him. The horn that blared sent shivers down Casey’s spine, but he kept going, hoping to go through the nearby gate to Central Park and escape Zeke. It proved futile, as he could hear Zeke’s crunching footsteps coming from behind. “Stop running away from me. Stop, now,” Zeke told him. Casey didn’t, which seemed to infuriate Zeke into bellowing, “STOP!”

With an insurmountable amount of fear flooding his body, Casey halted and turned slowly, his limbs shaking. He couldn’t set his eyes on Zeke, choosing to dart them around his surroundings. “You… you followed me.”

“’Wasn’t hard to do. I could’ve sat right the fuck in front of you on the subway, your head was so far up in the clouds. Couldn’t stop thinking of your special-day, huh?” Zeke asked. It was then that he thrust a newspaper towards him. “Here. Take it and read.”

“Wha…” Casey looked at the page it was open to, finding it to be so fresh that ink was smearing his fingers. “What…”

“It’s a just-printed review. Otello was fantastic, the cast spectacular, with the exception of Rethburg, who sounded ‘a trifle casual in the love duet, but by the time of the frightening third-act encounter’… oh, whatever, just fucking read it yourself,” Zeke told him. “You’d better, just so you have some kind of goddamned cover for the shit you just pulled.”

“Zeke--”

“Now that THAT’S cleared up, answer. My fucking. Question.” Zeke narrowed his eyes and snarled as he moved in closer. “How was it?”

Now brimming with defiance, Casey snarled back. “It was good. Better than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

“Yea, I’ll bet. If you’re willing to risk a warm bed and three meals a day, I can only imagine how it felt, giving Cal a freebie.”

Casey felt his face go slack with shock. “A… ‘freebie’? You think that’s what this is about??” Casey asked.

“Oh good god, you are delusional--”

“He cares about me! I’d go so far as to say that he loves me!”

“Ohh…” Zeke now chuckled with barely-hidden sarcasm. “Is that what he told you? C’mon, Angel-Eyes, did he actually say, ‘I love you’?”

“He didn’t have to,” Casey replied.

“No, of course he didn’t. How funny… he loves you, but he manipulates you enough to risk your getting kicked out into the streets for breaking the biggest rule of the house,” Zeke said. “Now, how about we get out of the fucking cold, hop on a subway and pretend that you aren’t a miserable, lying son of a bitch to everyone?”

Casey watched the boy whirl around on his heels and head back to the gate. Before he became a fuzzy white blur, Casey snarled. “What about you, Zeke?”

“What about me.”

“Rule-breaking. It’s what you seem to do best.”

Again, Zeke laughed. He sighed and turned back to walk over to Casey. “Oh yea, my sneaking desserts and shit are just as bad as meeting with your stupid-as-hell ‘sweetheart’. Don’t be such a moron.”

As much as he’d been told what he’d been told in confidence, it couldn’t stay within him. He’d burst, especially with how Zeke was treating him now. “What about Martin?” he asked. He stared Zeke down, who had now gone still and mute. “What, did I strike a chord? How about THAT rule?”

“What… the hell… are you talking about?”

“You--and Martin. What you two did together,” Casey said. He moved closer to the young man and sneered up at him. “All your warnings, your going on and on about how I need to ‘follow the rules’, while you’d fucked and beat on Marty.”

Zeke looked like he was made of pure, undiluted fury now. “Ex-Excuse me?”

“It must have been nice, rooming with the poor thing. You got to sneak in a lot of fucks that way, huh?” Casey said, his words made of venom.

“Cal told you this stuff, huh?”

“Mmhmm. He heard enough… I won’t say from who, but--”

Casey didn’t get the chance to say anything more, for Zeke grabbed his coat lapels with both hands, picked him up and tossed him into the snow. It knocked the wind out of Casey, making him gasp and choke for air. Zeke was on him in a flash, throwing himself on his knees over Casey’s waist. Scared for his life, Casey threw his hands up to ward Zeke off, only to get his wrists grabbed and shoved against the ground above his head.

“I could kill you right now. I should.” Zeke glared down on the boy, his lips trembling and face crimson. “Don’t think I’d bat an eye in beating you into a pulp.”

“N-No, I don’t,” Casey said in a stammer. “You’ve already done that, right?”

“Oh yea, I have. Only this time, I wouldn’t get paid to do it.”

Casey narrowed his eyes; he was well beyond confused, now. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why don’t you go ask Cal? Huh?” Zeke lifted Casey up a few inches then slammed him back down. Casey coughed hard and fell silent, unwilling to say anything more that would cause him possibly injury. Zeke breathed in jerks as he grabbed Casey’s face and squeezed his chin.

“St-Stop…”

“You know how much some dirty-minded, filthy fuck’ll pay to watch a boy get beat on? Do you?” Zeke asked. “Especially when it’s done by another boy, instead of themselves. See, they might feel guilty, throwing a barely-legal kid around the room. So they get someone else to do it… and who the fuck better to pick than the ‘top’ of the group to fill the role?”

Casey’s memories of seeing his ‘co-workers’ being bought and paired together filled his mind. If they allowed this--if he and Jamie had been allowed to ‘play together’ with Bruce… “Zeke… are you saying--”

“Fuck you, Casey. Fuck you forever.” With that, Zeke climbed to a stand and walked double-time to the gate. Stunned and breathless, Casey stared after him until the waves of snow took him from his sight.


~*~


Though he was filled with fear that he’d find his things on the porch of Stephen’s, Casey had nowhere else to go. He’d been out in the cold for almost two hours, first in the park unable to stand, to the subway station where the trains were running late and finally on the street where he lived. If Zeke told Stephen of Casey’s true whereabouts on this day, Casey would surely be thrown out. Perhaps Stephen would allow Casey one more night in his bed, let him warm up before sending him away. If Zeke told, Casey wouldn’t be angry. He’d understand and swallow his lumps, because he was wrong. So dead, fucking wrong.

Shivering violently, he approached the building with dread in his heart. Nothing was on the porch, but Stephen would be kind enough to let Casey inside to pack, wouldn’t he? Casey nodded, feeling mad. Just as he’d reached the stairs and climbed halfway-up, the door flew open and Stephen looked out at him with great concern.

“Casey! Oh good god, get inside!”

He didn’t sound angry, but again--he was kind. Concerned. Casey was a quaking mess, covered in snow and melted slush, possibly frostbitten. ‘He won’t throw me out tonight. He won’t throw me out tonight,’ Casey thought, over and over again.

The next thing the boy knew, Stephen shut the door and Helen was at his side, taking his coat off in a rush. “Oh, he’s chilled to the bone. Casey, sweetheart, let me see your hands,” she said, but didn’t wait for Casey to remove his gloves. She did it for him then began inspecting his fingers. “No frostbite that I can see, but a doctor should look at him.”

“Let’s get him upstairs,” Stephen said.

Just the thought of walking any further, never mind climbing flights of stairs--Casey felt his head spin and he dropped to the floor. The last thing he heard was Stephen shouting for Sam, then nothing.


~*~