I Hold With Those Who Favor Fire

Part 1

Prologue: Tom

Seventeen hours and he didn't sleep a wink. Not that his anxiety would have let him. He'd kept up a steady heel tap for the first part of the flight, finally pulling out one of the books he'd packed in his bag, burning through it in under five hours.

He'd had his bag ready even before the dinner at Joseph's house. One spare pair of trousers, the black T-shirt his mother hated, the one with the Rolling Stones tongue. His phone, ear buds, the picture of him and his Aunt Margaret, Domino sitting between them. He was a good dog, Tom thought, blinking away the tears, remembering how Domino had been put down after his aunt's death. So abruptly, without even asking if Tom would like to have him.

It didn't matter now. It's not like his mother would let him keep something as trivial as a pet in their home.

Her home.

It was Tom's no longer.

He'd wanted to bring his laptop and more of his books, but he didn't want her or his sisters to catch on to his plans. Tom hadn't known if hacking into the lawyer's computer would work. He could have easily been caught, been returned to his mother, embarrassed, just one more victory she would have had over him.

But he hadn't been caught. The money was his now-had always been his-and he had it all with him in traveler's check tucked deep in his backpack, in an envelope the bank had provided to him. It seemed to burn a hole through his skin where it rested against his hip during the taxi ride to the airport, Tom keeping an eye on the cars around them, wondering if he was being followed that very moment. She wouldn't do anything extreme. The whole thing would seem very uncouth to her, such a disappointing action on his part, and she wouldn't suffer negative attention on the family. But she would know of his plans and that would be the end of Tom's dreams to be rid of her and his sisters. His mother was ruthless in her own terrible way, and Tom knew that this would be his only chance to escape her and her plans to make him into some fat baby-siring lawyer who needed to rise in the ranks and gain the attention of the royals, or else. Tom didn't know what the 'or else'entailed, but he was tired of living in such acute fear of her whims and efforts to correct him and mold him into yet another one of her pawns. She loved his sisters better anyway. Let them embark on the impossible ascension to the throne.

With only his real name to work with, Tom had jumped on the first flight to the United States. Detroit, Michigan. What he would do there, he wasn't sure, but he felt getting out of England was imperative. There were so many outlets from England; he could only hope she would get caught up in figuring out what method of transportation he'd used.

When the plane landed, it was below freezing and Tom, completely unfamiliar with the Fahrenheit system and what it meant in terms of temperature, had tried walking down the street in only his thin jumper and jeans. Shivering, he dashed into the gift shop of a bus depot and bought himself a cheap brown jacket and burgundy wool beanie, thinking his socks and thin boots would suffice to get him around the city. Maybe he would check into a hotel, consider his options. Maybe he could travel on and settle in a different state so he could apply for a permanent visa. He wouldn't need work right away. But he'd rather be prepared.

It was as he was paying that he caught the man staring at him. He was a good looking man, probably late twenties, with a small smile and brown eyes. He smiled at Tom from over a small stand of cheap curio, and Tom reddened. He faced the cashier in a hurry, pulling out his wallet to pay. Thank goodness he'd had the foresight to convert his money into dollars before boarding the flight. What use is having a small fortune when it wasn't accepted currency?

He left the shop in a hurry, searching for the loo in the bigger belly of the terminal. The stalls were empty, so he took the biggest one at the end. Cutting off the tags, he shrugged into his new jacket and then searched the bag for the beanie. Only, it wasn't there. He cursed under his breath and reminded himself to stop in the gift shop again to get it back. With a deep sigh, he rested back against the tiled wall, feeling the weight of what he'd done and all that had happened settle heavily on his shoulders. He was in another country, a bag full of money at his feet, and not a single idea about what to do now.