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Chapter 5: Walk about Town

I like Sundays. Sundays were the only day I officially had off to do my own thing. I was supposed to go to church like a good honest Christian, but ever since I fell asleep and started snoring up in the balcony and then quickly chased out of the Lord's House by a very angry looking nun, I figured gracing other places around the city was a better (and safer) use of my time.

It was still cold out. The sky was that kind of bright blue you only really see a few times a year. Not a cloud even if the smokestacks in the distance were painting a nice black streak across London -- I guess wind was blowin' away from me today. The ground was still icy and snowy, white here and there but in the middle of the roads it was either gone or trampled down into a fine slush. At the edges near the curbs the snow was as gray as my fur. Heh. Imagine that.

People were moving hither and thither, bundled up as snug as a bug in their coats if they could afford them. You could always tell the poor people on the streets -- they were always the ones rushing to wherever it was they were going. Being out in the cold could be the death of even a rich man. Getting sick wasn't an option for a lot of folks. Who could afford medicine when you could barely afford bread?

I was going to see someone I think Alister, and Professor Bensley, would say was a bad idea. Actually, anyone I told about this particular person said it was a mistake of mine. That I was just asking to get robbed, or to be hurt, or to end up in the Thames floating face down next to the docks. But, then, what was the difference about anyone else I met in Whitechapel? So many people were poor and dangerous here. If you didn't know the area at all you were bound to end up mugged. There were roads and passages you learned, through experience and word of mouth, to avoid. The best way to survive in this part of London was to explore it and, admittedly, meet people.

One lesson I think a lot of us poor folk don't really learn until it's too late is that, when you know a lot of people and they like you, you get a kind of protection. It isn't like you're special or anything, but a mugger ain't gonna rob his pal, and most of these guys worked in groups. If one person knew who I was it was likely he'd stop his chums. It also let me know if I had stepped on the wrong tail. I know I am not the angel I may look like and have gotten into the fur of more than a few people in my short but glorious life. Knowing when I did someone a problem was a good way to avoid getting a black eye for my trouble. Everyone had a cooling-off period.

Plus, there was the fact people who saw me would know where I worked. I always made sure to have one of my brushes with me, dangling from my belt or my knapsack with Alister's logo drawn onto the fabric by the old fox himself -- it was advertising!

I rounded the corner and into an alley. It had seen better days, old boxes and debris laying here and there; some trash sticking out of the white snow, and the various pawprints heading deeper into the darkness between the buildings. I walked down the warren of alleys and passages and came out into a courtyard of sorts for various buildings nestled deep into the city block. There was a well in the center and sharp cobblestones made up the "ground" so to speak. It would be very easy to bang a toe or cut a pad if you didn't walk with a plan. I could even see some red marks in the snow already. I guess someone had come by who wasn't supposed to be here.

Standing on either side of two double doors to an old, crumbling looking building were two boys who looked to be about my age. One was a bear. I hadn't seen a bear in a long time. He was wearing overalls and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his massive arms. I could see his paws were scarred from some kind of hard labor. Around his waist hung the blue sash everyone round these parts wore. His partner was a tiger, dressed exactly the same and very tall for his age by the look of things. He was strong but not as broad as a house like the bear. Both looked like no nonsense kinds of men.

I approached with a smile.

"Good mornin', gents. I know it's early, but is Gideon here?" I asked with a pleasant tone to my voice and a wag of my tail. I must have looked insane.

The bear stared down at me for the longest time. He seemed to have a perpetual scowl because not one muscle on his broad face moved while he looked at me. I tilted my head to the side and stared right back up at him. I knew that at this point my fate was sealed if the bear wanted to clobber me. I was fast but probably not as fast as these two. I could probably get away but not before I had a broken arm or something equally bad. Just had to hope my reputation precedes me.

"You that... Sammy guy, right? Boss's pal," the bear said. I wasn't sure if he was asking a question or making a statement.

I plucked the cap off my head and did a polite and over dramatic bow. "Nice ta hear me reputation gets about town even if my name seems to be playing catch up. I am Simon King, actually."

The bear rolled his eyes at me and just shoved the door open behind him. "Jus' no funny business, ya hear? Just 'cause the boss is sweet on ya."

I chuckled as I strolled inside. Not at the bear or anything but because he thought I was stupid enough to cause any kind of trouble in this side of town. It wasn't that I was scared or anything, but I knew when I tempted fate. Being here on me lonesome, that was always tempting fate. Even with Gideon as my pal I was never 100% safe.

Inside the flash house was a lot of people. Young men (and even some older blokes) were milling about here and there, some playing cards on tables, some cleaning, some sleeping, some sick by the look of things, and a few near the open fire pit in the center of the big warehouse looking place. Someone once told me this place resembled below decks on a boat what with the beams in weird places and the hammocks and cots laid about, some weapons stuffed into a corner. It was warm inside but not the kind of warmth that really warmed your body, the kind of warmth that made you feel like you were sweating. A warm dampness that clung to the air no matter how close you got to the fire.

I waved at a couple of people I recognized, some even waving back, while I headed up the old wooden stairs to the left side of the building. It led up to what was once the foreman's office up above. It was a square room with windows, a couple of them broken, but with blankets hanging over them to keep the chill out. I noticed the door was ajar and slowly pushed it open so as to not startle anyone. Slow enough to show I wasn't rushing in but not so quick as to risk a knife in me face.

Inside was an office that had been converted into a bedroom. Two cots were pushed together with some old blankets laid out along them (and even a pillow now!) and a wooden desk with one of the legs broken off, held up now by a stack of bricks. There was a dresser of sorts that had more scars on it than a soldier back from war and dirty little odds and ends. Really, the only thing nice about this room was that it gave a semblance of privacy and had its own fireplace. Crude, but wasn't the damp kind of warmth as below.

Around a table with a copious amount of liquor bottles on it sat four wolves. They were all about the same age, tall and muscular, one blond, the other black, a white one, and a chocolate brown. They were drinking already and playing cards. There was a knife on the table, along with a cudgel of some kind and a hammer. Street gangs used what they could. The smart ones never went very far without a weapon.

In the center was Gideon, the tan and brown wolf who could have passed for a coyote or some other kind of dog, depending on how dirty he got. He looked up and grinned, slapping his hand on the table.

"Oy! Si! You been a spook lately."

When he stood, there were moans around the table. You didn't stop playing cards until Gideon was done. I guess someone else at the table was winning. Poor them.

I grinned as I heard the feet moving past us, Gideon looking to his friends and waving them off. I heard some jokes, a few sniggers, and then a growl from the tall wolf in front of me. One of the others closed the door, leaving us alone.

Gideon was wearing rags. He always did, even though I knew for a fact he had more pieces of clothing than what he had on. He had on a tattered vest over his chest and no undershirt. He liked to keep his arms bare and chest showing. He said he looked muscular and strong wearing only a vest. I had to agree, he did look strong. He also looked daft, standing around in that and the trousers that had more holes than Swiss cheese.

No one could get Gideon to do anything he didn't want. He was more stubborn than a nobleman and more hard-headed than a drunk sailor. You learned to either go with the flow around Gideon or you'd be brushed aside. That was how wolves worked, I think. You had to have someone at the top and Gideon was that wolf.

The Howler Boys, as they called themselves, were dangerous, violent, and did things for money I dare not repeat here. They got into street brawls with other gangs and held a good portion of Whitechapel under their name. Usually us sweepers would have to pay a small tribute to them for "protection" but Gideon waived it off. I knew it was because of our friendship he didn't go collecting on us sweeper boys. Lord knew what would happen if I ever made him right mad.

I grinned stupidly up at my friend and shrugged my shoulders. "Been busy! Ain't like it's easy to get here with this bloody snow everywhere. You also have that ice out by the road. Nearly slipped and broke me neck."

Gideon smirked and shrugged his shoulders, putting a hand behind his head. "That's the point, ya numpty. Keep the idiots outta the allies who could come and dun us harm. Security."

"Since when does Howler Gideon defend with ice and snow?"

"Since it's bloody cold outside and I like feeling in my fingers. Besides, aren't you always telling me to work smarter, not harder?"

"I suppose I have said that from time to time..." I said, rubbing my chin for dramatic effect and looking away. "I guess this does indicate you have a brain in your skull." I did my best Professor impression, even lifting my chin and tutting.

I watched Gideon do something he never did in public. He laid his ears flat. Showing weakness as a wolf, let alone in a street gang, was a good way to get your kidneys punctured. Everyone wanted more of the pie and being at the top Gideon had more than a few pairs o' eyes looking at him, waiting for him to mess up. Not that the other Howlers were disloyal, no sir, but you only moved up in rank when you thought the man over you wasn't doing terribly well at his job.

"Ey!" he said, growling deeply. "I can think. I can even read! How long did it take that professor friend of yours to teach you your letters?"

"Ah," I said with a grin and put my hands behind my back. "But can you count without your paws, Gid?"

Another growl vibrated away from my friend. He stepped forward to me, looking right down at me. He was at least a head taller and broader than I was. He would never have been a good sweeper boy, he was a giant even as a newborn, as he tells it. I jumped when his large hands grabbed my biceps, holding me steady as he looked down at me.

"Your tongue is sharper than me dagger, fox," he said, leaning down slowly. "You know what I done to men who talk ta me like that?"

I took that as an invitation. I leaned my muzzle up and pushed my cool lips against his warm ones.

All at once color filled my mind. A warmth that started to radiate in my chest and expand to every inch of my body. I could feel the fur on my fingers even stand on end when our lips touched and our tongues connected. Gideon's arm let go of me and curled around me, pulling me close.

We kissed like men having their first drink of water in a desert. We kissed like we needed to breathe the air out of each other to survive. We kissed like we were sweet on each other.

You see, I have a secret. A terrible secret.

One that, if the world knew, would probably get me hurt, or worse. I always knew it was true since I was a little cub. I'd always been different in that way. Now don't get me wrong, I think a vixen can be beautiful, but I never wanted to kiss one like I was kissing Gideon. I never craved it like I wanted to right now.

Gideon was the man who taught me it was fine to be this way, as long as we were safe. He saw me, once, watching the other men and boys bathing in the river, back when we had just met. He had suspicions then but never pried it out of me. He waited until I was comfortable to ask him.

Not that he didn't let me know it was safe. A few of the Howler Boys were sweet on each other. That was one of the rules. You could like another Howler Boy, but if you ever so much as made someone feel bad for it, you ended up with a few broken bones and thrown in the Thames. As it were, no one outside of the gang really knew. They all kept it secret. I think they were afraid that if it got out they would all be labeled the same as Gideon and me. Whatever the case, this was a place I could be myself.

Gideon had moved us to the small bed and we sat, still kissing. I had my hand between his vest, rubbing over his pectorals. I could feel his heart thumping against my fingers. The muscles under his fur and skin were tight and warm. I just loved touching him. To touch another man was so taboo, but I wanted it so much, especially since I met Gideon. I couldn't deny what this man did to me, how he made me feel. How my trousers felt so uncomfortably tight every time we kissed. His too by what I could feel.

I knew we were approaching a point where we would continue or stop. I took a chance while we kissed for what felt like an hour and moved my hand further south. I could feel the cobblestone-like stomach he had and pushed my fingers under the band of his ragged trousers. I paused, surprised...and kept moving. Finally, when my fingertips brushed something very hard and very hot, Gideon broke our kiss.

"No," he said softly, reaching down and grabbing my hand, pulling it out of his trousers. "No, Simon," he said, panting and looking at me in the eyes, still holding me. Still so close I could smell his fur and feel the heat radiating off him.

"But..." I said, whining with a need. I didn't know who else to turn to for something like this. My own paw was fine when I had some privacy, but it was nothing like kissing Gideon. Kissing him, feeling him, I felt more alive than ever. I reached down to tug on my trousers. "You always stop us... we both... want it."

"We do," Gideon said, lying on his side and pulling me with him. I lay there, staring into his eyes. He swallowed and pulled me close. "But we can't. Not till one of us has the means to protect the other. You won't be able to get the scent offa you. You think Alister or the other boys won't know what you did?"

I frowned. It was true that mating with another did carry a scent with you. I could smell it on others who had found comfortable partners. Alister had a strict rule of no prostitutes, but he couldn't really enforce that. Anyone who came back to the home smelling of a woman just lied and said they had been with a willing lover. Whoring was a boy's God-given right, but Alister said you could get sick if you used women who used their flesh to make a penny. He was a lot of weird things, but a liar he was not. I always listened.

Plus, there was the day one of the boys, when I had been very young, came back smelling of coupling but also of man. Alister had been angry, said not only had this boy been stupid he had also slept with a man. Said that if the customers found out they would be furious, we could lose clients. The church could demand our contracts back, or worse, we could all be arrested. Alister had dragged the boy to be washed and then had him sign up for the Navy. We never heard of him again. Some would say it was cruel, but Alister had made sure the boy had work. He was not a bad man, and he never spoke badly about men who liked men, but he also knew how this world worked, unfair as it was.

I sighed and nodded, leaning my head forward and pushing my muzzle against Gideon's pectoral. "Billy would probably tell everyone, and I think it would break Avery."

"And Alister would put you on a ship and off to India you go or some such. Never to come back, eaten by a kraken or a dolphin or whatever it is out there. I have no idea; I don't swim for that reason. If I ever have to serve and I fall in, I won't suffer long."

I sighed at Gideon's attempt to make me feel better. It didn't exactly work, but I sat up a little bit and looked down at him. "Just promise me... sometime. Will you?"

Gideon quirked his brow but sat up on a palm. "Ya mean that? You want this old brawler to promise himself to ye?" He grinned playfully, hungry like the wolf he was.

I scowled dramatically and shoved him back to laying down. "I mean it! Promise me you won't say no when we can. Iunno when that will be, but I know your word means somethin' to you and your boys."

Gideon's eyes were wide and he nodded, holding up his hands with open palms, a sign he meant no harm. "Fine, fine. I promise ye. Just don't be askin' me every time we meet. We can kiss and stuff. But we gotta be careful. Dangerous enough that everyone here knows I'm sweet on ye."

I rolled my eyes and flopped down into the crook of his arm, curling up. This was also a rare moment for me when I could be vulnerable. Gideon would kill anyone who tried to hurt me, I knew that much. I sighed. "You think it's alright to be... us, in America or something?"

He was silent for a while, his arm curled around me and rubbing under the hem of my shirt, right above my tail. "Iunno. Never thought about it. They ain't as stuffy as London, though."

"We could go," I said with a wag of my bushy tail. "You know, like in those stories we hear. Finding riches and fortune in the new country. We could make names for ourselves and set out west, maybe see Texas... or find cold in California... Or maybe cross those mountains they got."

To this Gideon chuckled and shook his head, looking down at him. "And what if they don't like our kind there anymore than they do here?" For a street brawler he was surprisingly thoughtful. At times.

"Then..." I said, thinking of something funny to say. "Then we find someplace to live in the American wilderness!" I said with a triumphant grin from ear to ear. "Where we can build a log cabin and stuff. And you can go hunting and I can... uh..."

"...Clean the chimney?"

"Argh!" I said, smacking at his muzzle playfully. "I can do more than that. I can cook."

"Didn't you set water on fire that one time?"

"No! That was porridge."

"Still impressive," he said with a grin and rubbed my back. "And it's a good dream to have. Maybe it'll be real someday. Getting there would be expensive."

"It would... but if we both save..."

"Simon," the wolf said with a frown. "You know it ain't that easy. We have... things to look out for here. We can't just run away on a boat across the Atlantic."

"Sure we can! Besides, don't you want to get out of London? Spring Heeled Jack could always come and get you when you're walking down the street at night! I just heard about him and..."

My sentence was cut short as Gideon suddenly sat up on his arm. Surprisingly, he looked serious. "Simon," he said, speaking in a hushed voice, "you ain't supposed to say his name."

"What?" I asked with a chuckle, then feeling it slowly drain from my face as I noticed a glimpse of fear in his eyes. "Why?"

" 'Cause," Gideon said, looking around his room before setting his gaze back on me. "Cause he's real, Simon. I seen him with me own two eyes. And I never want to see something like that demon again."