HORNS (BoyXBoy)

Chapter 170

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy

My first impression of London was a chaotic and backwards mess in almost every single way.

See, after taking some time to recast the glamour illusions on myself, my brother, and my sister-in-law--since we'd nearly hit the twelve-hour limit to the magic by the time we'd landed and the illusions themselves had become bizarrely translucent, which had panicked everyone--we'd gotten off the plane, grabbed our luggage, and had made our way out of Heathrow Airport.

Don't get me wrong, the airport itself was just as chaotic and backwards as the one we'd left back in North Carolina, and people were just rude, and strange, and even smelly, but up until we'd collected our luggage and begun to make our way for the nearest exit, I hadn't realized the true meaning of the word Backwards. Hence why, my eyes went buggy after we were outside.

It wasn't because of the bone-chilling wetness that immediately seemed to seep into me through my clothes. It wasn't because of how strange the skidmarked sky looked, either, despite the lines of different greys competing to form a Monet-like picture without the unifying theme. It wasn't even because of the architectural differences in the buildings all around, or the scent of damp and rot with the overwhelming rankness of mildew and moss, burning my nose. 

No, what really took me off guard was the fact that cars were driving on wrong side of the road, the steering wheels of said cars had been built in on the right sides instead of the left, and everything, literally everything, moved in reverse to the way that it did in America.

Including the airport. 

"I hate London," Sebastian growled, drawing my gaze; he was glaring up at the gray sky with a clenched jaw, nostrils flared. "It's smells slightly better than it did a hundred years ago, but even after all the Green laws passed, this place still faintly reeks of gasoline and petrol."

"I don't smell anything but dampness, mud, and mold," I noted, sniffing a few times. 

"Your sense of smell is still muted thanks to the inhaler," Sebastian growled back, turning to look at my dad, who raised an eyebrow. "Alright, so, here's what we're gonna do. The taxi cabs in this country can only hold three passengers at a time, legally, so we're gonna be taking two. Jak, you and Horst will take one together. I'll be riding with Sasha and Luka."

"To Salisbury, right?" Pop quietly asked.

"Hn," Bash grunted, giving a single nod. He tipped his sunglasses down and eyed my brother and his wife, both of which who shifted under his gaze. "You two are clearly very nervous, but don't worry. You have nothing to fear with me taking care of you, understood?"

"Da," Luka chirped, nodding once. "Luka know."

"Good," Bash grumbled, letting loose a snort; he pushed his glasses back up and trotted to the edge of the road, waving down a passing taxi, followed by another. He leaned into the window of the first one when the cab driver rolled it down, grumbling something I couldn't make out.

It was too noisy, traffic was nuts, and there were people talking everywhere.

He waved Luka and Sasha over when the taxi popped the trunk.

"I'll get Horst and I situated in the second cab," my dad called, earning a thumbs up from Bash. Following his lead, I carried my luggage to the cab that had stopped behind the first one. Luka, Sasha, and Bash wound up climbing into first one while our cab driver rolled down her window. She eyed the two of us with bloodshot grey eyes, looking rather bored.

"Need me to pop the trunk?" she sarcastically asked. 

"That would be ideal, yes," my father politely confirmed, and she rolled her eyes before doing so. He motioned with his head for me to follow him just as Sebastian's cab began to drive away. The two of us quickly put our belongings into the trunk, slammed it shut, and made our way to the rear passenger doors. I slid inside and shut the door before buckling my seatbelt.