Chapter Twenty-Five

“That person is downstairs, and I can tell you categorically he never looked as good as the artist tried to make him,” Kolton said firmly, flicking a finger at an old painting.

After lunch with Elijah, where an ultrasound machine was ordered, due to arrive in Vegas the following morning, Kolton zapped them both to London and Giorgio's townhouse. Kolton wasn't overly upset that Giorgio wasn't there - he was someone who always had a dozen projects on the go at any one time.

Tapping into the pack link, Kolton heard, I forgot, sorry guys. I’ve got a bit of a situation. Maybe next week?

“That's happened a dozen times,” Kolton said to a bemused Simon. “We could go home...”

“Or we could explore. We’re in London. We might as well enjoy it.” Simon's eyes were shining, and Kolton couldn't say no. After a fun two hours spent exploring the Sea Life London Aquarium, where Kolton admitted it was the first time he'd been within spitting distance of a shark, they went on to the British Museum.

It was a quiet late afternoon by the time they got there, and Kolton was amusing his mate with stories about some of the historical figures depicted in art and sculptures.

"I've met this one,” Simon said, stopping in front of a painting of moody looking young man. His clothing suggested he was well off, but otherwise Kolton couldn’t see anything inspiring about him.

“It was years ago, obviously, back when I’d first left the clan and was traveling all over, like so many single young men did back then. I remember he wanted to be a painter, but his father wanted him to go into his shipping company. He was on his European tour before he was expected to go back and settle down.”

Simon pointed to the black curtain behind the man and the black collar that framed the melancholy face. “This was clearly painted posthumously. He got food poisoning and died on his way home.”

“Were you close-close?” Not that Kolton really cared. The man had been dead centuries, but he was curious about who Simon was before he became a doctor. “Is he why you started studying medicine?”

“No. I was heavily into art at the time.” Simon chuckled. “I had long hair, smoked cheroots, and drank wine, talking to similarly arty-looking friends about the latest masterpiece I was working on, which amounted to nothing more than a few paint blobs on a canvas. I often dreamed of painting something iconic and then walking down hallways like this one centuries later and seeing my art displayed, by a mysterious ‘unknown’ artist, of course.”

Kolton laughed, fascinated by a glimpse into Simon’s past. “Our kind were always told when we came here that we weren’t allowed to draw attention to ourselves, which is understandable. I never did a stint as an artist. I’m not sure I would know the first thing about it, but I did run a bar for a while when I first came to America. I decided very early on during the gold rush that I’d make more money serving something those miners needed rather than trying to stake a claim and work it myself.”

“When did you come to America?”

“I was already in America when the gold rush started... so back in the early eighteen forties, I think. As you know, we had to keep moving around every ten years or so, and after the gold rush was basically over, I wandered around California. I was in - Hades' garden, I can't remember the name of the town now - but I met a traveler going on about how Las Vegas was the place where so much was happening.

“I'd always thought it was just a railway town, and it was in the desert, so I ignored it at the time, but about thirty years later, I think it was, there was a lot of talk among transients about the building of the Hoover Dam and I thought, hmm, more people in the area would mean more opportunities, I might want to check it out for myself. There was big money to be had by people prepared to sell liquor during the prohibition years, and gambling still hadn't been regulated then, so I got my toehold in Vegas and have pretty much been there ever since.”

Simon looked around, checking there was no one around. “You’ve lived there that long? How did you get past the whole lack of aging business.”

“To be honest, I didn’t really think about it. I remember Java saying something it really wasn’t an issue – he’s the one who has the hotel in Plaka, in Athens. Being in hospitality means that most of the people who see you are tourists, apart from staff. But it’s a rare case where a couple, for example, might visit the one place every year for decades and who might comment about it. If they do, I just say ‘oh, you must mean my father,’ and that seems to work. Likewise hospitality staff don’t stay in their positions for decades either. If anyone mentions anything, I just tell them I have good genetics.”

It was Simon’s time to laugh. “If anyone can say that it would be you.” They’d reached the end of the hallway – the exit was to the left and another long corridor stretched down to the right. “Do you mind if we grab an early dinner and then go for a wander through a place I found online called Frameless. It’s an immersive art experience – apparently all the artwork is above, below, and all around you. The reviews say it’s incredible.”

“Last entry is at seven,” Kolton said. He’d pulled out his phone and was checking for bookings. “Maybe we go there first and then have a meal, unless you’re hungry again now.”

“We can grab a snack along the way. I don’t want to miss the art.” Simon curled his hand around Kolton’s arm. “Thank you. I’m having an amazing day.”

Kolton slipped his phone back into his pocket and grinned. “I wonder if you’ll still be saying that when we go visiting graveyards after the art place.”

“Graveyards?” Simon was still chuckling, so he clearly didn’t mind.

“This guide I read about said London is super haunted.” Kolton shrugged. “I’ve got no interest in listening to a guide tell me about the history of London. Giorgio has lived here around here since before the roads were paved, and I’ve visited quite a few times. But it could be fun, wandering through a graveyard or two and see what pops up.”

“So long as your hound doesn’t get frisky.” Simon lowered his voice as they passed the reception area, heading out to the taxi stand. “I’m not standing around in a graveyard by myself, while you go chasing ghosts.”

“My hound chases spirits, not ghosts.” Kolton stuck his nose in the air. “There’s a difference, you know. Cats on the other hand…”

Simon mocked gasped. “Your hound doesn’t chase cats, surely.”

“Only once, a very long time ago,” Kolton admitted. “It didn’t end well. I had a scratch on my nose that hurt for about an hour afterward. Domestic cats aren’t afraid of anything.”

/~/~/~/~/

It was weird landing back in Vegas after a very long and fun-filled night in London. With the eight hours’ time difference, and London being ahead in time, by the time they made it back, it was still light out. “Let your hound out seeing as he didn’t get the chance to chase any ghosties,” Simon suggested with a yawn as he plopped on the couch. “We can cuddle up and watch a movie for a bit. I know if I go to bed now, I’m going to be awake about three in the morning.”

“You’re spoiling my other half,” Kolton joked, leaning over to brush a kiss over Simon’s head. “It was a great day, yeah?”

“It was a fun day. Something new for both of us. Hopefully we’ll get a lot more of those days before our little one arrives.” Simon’s smile was tired, but his eyes were full of love. “Go on, shift. I’ll find some mindless movie. I know your hound doesn’t care what I watch.”

“Just no cats, or ghosties for that matter.” Kolton unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the edge of the couch. “I can’t believe we didn’t see a single apparition. We went to three graveyards.”

“I never thought ghosties lived in graveyards anyway.” Simon chuckled. “From what you said, the true spirit of a person goes where they’re meant to be after death, depending on the marks on their soul and their independent beliefs. Anyone who stays, or lingers, is either a remnant of a specific time or event, or a spirit with strong ties to a person or place. I can’t see anyone having a tie to a graveyard. We’d have had more chance spotting ghosties at the museum.”

“Next time we go to London we’ll check out the Tower of London. Apparently, they have heaps of ghosts there.” Kolton yawned. “There probably were ghosts at the graveyards we went to, but they all disappeared when they recognized the spirit of my hound.” He shifted, his hound’s back end wagging frantically as Simon’s smile widened.

“Come on up here then.” Simon patted the space beside him. “Don’t knock me off my seat. I swear you’re getting bigger every time I see you.”

The hound knew Simon was being silly. Hellhounds didn’t grow, they’d always been big. But their precious mate was tired, so the hound did take care, climbing onto the couch, turning just once which wasn’t easy in the limited space and then lying down as Simon put his feet on the coffee table. Resting his big head on Simon’s lap, the hound sighed as he felt Simon’s hand on his head. Being with Simon was fast becoming his favorite place in the whole world.