"He's in London with Raven and Azazel, they won't be there for long, but he will." Charles says.
I nod, looking at the plane ticket in my hand. "Thank you, Charles."
"Should everything go according to plan and you end up shutting down the fights," Charles says. "Where will you go after?"
"Maybe back to Scotland," I answer. "Or somewhere else. Somewhere with mountains. I haven't given it much thought."
"Well," Charles nods. "You always have a place here should you ever like to come back. Second to Raven, you're closest to a sister I have."
"And you a brother," I nod. "Thank you, Charles. For everything." I lean down and hug him tight. "Hank," I shake his hand. "Until next time."
He nods and I look at the pair of them before unfolding my wings. Charles nods in encouragement, and I turn and push off into the air.
. . .
I walk along the embankment just across from Parliament. The trees haven't shed all of their greenery yet, and the November chill sweeping across the Thames ruffles the branches that still have their lime green and pale yellow leaves. The late afternoon casts a silver and light bronze colour on the water.
The stone walkway following the river isn't crowded, but not desolate either, people are just getting out of work at this time. Some continue on their paths home, others stop to have a rest on the wood benches scattered next to the line of trees.
I stop when I see the back of his head.