As she lurched forward, she sent a message to the wisps. Surround us. The wisps shot outward from her in a radial pattern, creating a ring of light around her. As she pedaled hard, Will’s little fist pounded against her shoulder. “Doggies!” he said, his voice burbling with excitement.
Sure enough, the low but menacing growls rose over the thrum of tire treads on uneven pavement. Soon, the growls were accompanied by the clack of sharp claws on asphalt.
Not doggies.
Claire sucked a deep breath through her nose and forced herself to pedal faster. Doing her best to keep her eyes ahead and not look at the source of the sound, she sent a mental message to the wisps. At her command to split, the wisps formed a triangular formation. Two formed a vanguard about ten feet ahead, while the other four split and flew along either side of her, almost at the edges of the street. As the ring of yellow light spilled over the curb, something snarled, and the clacking of claws became muffled footfalls through dry leaves. The hounds weren’t hungry enough to risk the scorching light.
Not yet.
Don’t look back, she thought, fixing her gaze on the glow of the intersection ahead.
A dark shape, low to the ground, darted across her path with a snarl. Claire jerked the handlebars, throwing herself off-balance. She teetered precariously and caught herself on her right foot. Will squealed as they tilted. “Grab on tight,” she told him as she propelled herself back onto the bike and toward the light.
The growling sounded like it was only inches away as she raced down the street.
Just ride.
Soon, she emerged into a brighter patch, and she could see the long shadow of her own figure cast by the bright lights mounted on the outer walls of the Charlie-Gold shelter. Leaning to make the sharp turn, she squealed to a halt in a pool of bright light. Will’s hands fisted into her coat as she let the bike fall and hurried toward the door.
Mary and the boy were still on duty, talking quietly. As her scuffing feet signaled her approach, the boy’s hand flew to the cord looped on his belt. Mary’s eyes widened in recognition, which quickly shifted into confusion. “Claire? What are you doing back here?”
Reaching back with one hand to keep the child in place, Claire yanked the blanket free and crouched. “Off,” she said. Will slid down her back, and she grabbed his hand for safety as he clung to her leg. “I found him. He was home alone.” She glanced down, then leaned close to Mary as she lowered her voice. “I think his mother left.”
Mary winced. She knew exactly what Claire meant by left. “You want to bring him inside? I’ll call for Sister Tova.”
“Yeah,” Claire said. As they turned, the boy guarding the door opened it for them, releasing another bright spill of light into the darkness.
The shelter was quiet and warm, like Will’s house had been. Just inside the doorway, an older woman sat at a desk in an austere, gray-carpeted lobby. A radio on the desk chirped with static and muffled conversation. Beyond the lobby, a stairway led upstairs to several large rooms with cots and restrooms. Mary took the stairs two at a time, her steps creaking overhead. Past the stairs was an open living area where several people sat reading books. Conspicuously mounted on the wall behind the desk was a rack of weapons—several sharp swords, a neat loop of golden cord, and a crossbow.
Mary had been gone for less than a minute when a broad-shouldered man descended the stairway. A tactical belt encircled his waist, with a long knife sheathed over his thigh. His flannel shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal ornate geometrical tattoos on muscular forearms.
Will shifted nervously as the man padded down the stairs, making almost no sound. “Sister Tova is helping tend to one of the children. I’m Brother Lawrence,” he said. He examined Claire, sweeping his gaze over her. His eyes were a mismatched pair of pale green and glowing gold. “May I help you? Are you seeking sanctuary?”
Claire shook her head and started to offer Will toward him, but the child clamped down on her with all four limbs. “I came to drop him off,” she said, trying not to cringe as the boy pulled hard on her braid.
Lawrence frowned. “He’s yours?”
“No,” Claire said quickly. “He was alone. I just wanted to make sure he was somewhere safe.”
Lawrence nodded, then gestured to the woman at the desk. “Leah, please call for Evan. We’ll find this little guy something to eat and read to him, perhaps.” He smiled and stepped closer. “What’s your name?”
“Willem,” the child said quietly.
“Do you like stories?” Will nodded. “One of my friends will read you a story and make you a snack. How does that sound?”
Will’s face eased into a tentative smile. “Good.”
Claire extricated herself from his limbs and put him on the ground. A minute later, a young man thundered down the stairs, looking expectantly at Lawrence. The older man said, “Evan, this is our new friend Will,” he said. “Can you make sure he gets settled in?”
A brief look of annoyance flitted across Evan’s face. Then he plastered on a smile as he crouched in front of Will. “How about a sandwich?” Will nodded quickly, his lips quirking into a smile at the thought of a snack. He let out a peal of laughter as Evan scooped him up and carried him down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Lawrence turned to her. His easy smile for Will’s benefit evaporated, leaving a sharp-eyed, suspicious expression. “And how was it you came across the child?”
Her stomach churned. “I’m a novice from Golden Rose,” she said. “Sister Danica sent me to deliver something earlier, and on the way back I found him. So I brought him here. This was the closest place.”
His eyes narrowed, as if searching for the holes in her story. “Well, I’m glad you brought him in,” he said after a long pause.
Claire nodded. She fished into the zippered pocket of her backpack until she found the slick surface of the Polaroid photo. “Here, I found this. So someone can go look for her.”
Lawrence’s face was stoic as she extended it to him. Making no movement to take the picture from her, he shook his head. “No.”
A chill of dread washed over her. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“The word is a complete sentence,” Lawrence replied. “No, I won’t dispatch someone to search for her.”
“But he’s just a baby,” Claire said, a band squeezing around her chest.
“I’ll radio our patrols to let them know to be on the lookout for a woman in the area. We’ll follow protocols to search for her at daybreak, and if she’d not found, we’ll make sure the child is provided for. That’s all I can promise.”
“Daybreak is seven hours away. She might not be…” Claire trailed off. “How can you be so heartless?”
Lawrence’s eyes narrowed again. “I have seven people here under the protection of myself and Sister Tova, including two children whose parents disappeared last week. We found the remains of their father yesterday splattered across the walls of their home. No sign of their mother. I have a woman who walked into the darkness and happened to cross the path of one of our patrols. Five minutes’ difference, one different turn and they would never have crossed paths at all, and she would likely be dead or worse. They are mine to protect. And now this little boy that you’ve brought to me.”
“So—”
He stepped closer, looming over her as he glowered down at her. “So I will not jeopardize these people by leaving them half-protected for some misguided attempt at heroics. Should we come under attack, it’ll be hard enough with just me and Tova to protect everyone. Every shelter in town is in the same situation. We don’t have the people to run rescue missions. It’s possible one of our patrols will find her.”
“But not likely.”
“No, not likely at all.”
All she could do was stare up at Lawrence in disbelief. Just like that, Will had become an orphan. No one to tuck him in and read to him. He’d end up at a boys’ home, where he’d stay unless he developed magic. Evan and Lawrence’s warmth
would soothe the immediate fear of being without his mother. After a few days, he’d be on his own to deal with the frightening reality of being alone in the world.
Claire stole a look at the digital clock behind Lawrence. It was just past ten. If Will’s mother had gone out just after dark, she couldn’t have gotten far. Maybe if Claire just—
No. What the hell was she thinking? She needed to find somewhere safe so she could get out of town tomorrow. Free will made the world go round, and Will’s mother had opened the window. She’d taken the risk, and she was the one responsible. She put Will in this situation.
Claire looked down at the picture still clutched in her hand. Will’s thick brown curls matched his mother’s. They were both smiling, their faces mashed together so their cheeks were touching. Where was his father? Had something awful befallen him, too?
From her experience, she knew Will would grow up with that final memory of his mother, one where she was conspicuously absent. He would remember that open window, staring into the empty darkness that had swallowed her whole. Just like she remembered those stupid purple flowers. He’d grow up with a hundred questions he couldn’t answer. Claire wouldn’t be able to answer most of them, but she’d always know she could have changed one of them: why didn’t anyone try to find her?
“What if I go look for her?” she blurted before she could think about what she was saying.
“Absolutely not,” Lawrence said. There was a note of derision in his voice that triggered a surprising rush of anger in Claire.
“You’re not in charge of me,” she said hotly.
His eyebrows arched sharply. “You’re correct.”
“I have a choice,” she said. “I’ll look for her. If I can find her, will you send someone to help me bring her home?”
“No,” he replied. “I’m not wheeling and dealing with the safety of the people in my care. You’re too young to understand this, but you will someday. It probably seems callous and cruel, but it comes down to the numbers. Seven people in my care. Seven people who are contained within these walls where I know I can protect them, compared to one person whose status and whereabouts are unknown.”
“Fine,” she said. “One is still a number. His mother still counts for something.”
If her arguments were doing anything to change his mind, his face didn’t betray it. “And what will you do when you find whatever took her, assuming you make it that far?”
“I’ll figure that out when I get there.”
Lawrence sighed. “If you were one of my students…” He shook his head.
“Well, I’m not.”
“And thank the gods for that,” he muttered.
She set her jaw and slipped the picture into her pocket. She had started to turn when Lawrence’s hand squeezed her shoulder. Her body tensed under the unfamiliar touch, but he spoke quietly as warmth radiated from his grasp. “What are you doing?” she asked.
He continued to murmur quietly. As she watched, the tattoos on his right arm seemed to swirl and pulse. A small flash enveloped his forearm, echoed by a searing pain in her own arm. It lasted just a split second. He squeezed her shoulder again, then released her and rubbed his forearm absently. “If you truly feel you have to go, I won’t stop you. I think it’s foolish, and I’ll pray that your soul survives the night, because I think it’s rather likely that you’ll end up dead before you find this woman.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
He grasped her wrist lightly and pushed her coat sleeve up. On the tanned underside of her forearm was a gently glowing mark in the shape of a hawk with its wings outspread. “If you must, go back to the house where you found the boy,” he said. “Speak the words ‘vola accipiter’ to summon this familiar. If she’s only been gone since sunset, the familiar can trace her essence. The spell won’t last forever, but it might give you a clue which way she went.”
The bird’s wings seemed to sway faintly, like it was hovering on her arm and waiting to attack. “Thank you,” she said.
Lawrence shook his head. “I truly pray for your safety. You’ll need it.”
Chapter Four
-two hours after sunset-
Claire was a block away from the Corbin Street shelter when the realization hit her. I’ve made a terrible mistake. Emotion had gotten her out of sorts, fueling her with some sort of misplaced duty. Hadn’t she done plenty for Will already? Surely she’d earned some points for goodness by carrying him to safety.
But even as she realized it was foolish, she continued to pedal, legs moving in an endless cycle. This world was endlessly cruel. Wouldn’t it be nice if something good happened for once? Maybe she’d get lucky and find his mother just around the corner from the house. A girl could hope.
Before leaving the protective glow of Dorchester Avenue, Claire summoned her sun-wisps once more, lighting a hazy dome around her as she rode. Night had tightened its grip on the world since she’d arrived at the shelter. The eerie stillness was now filled with sounds. Howls and rolling thunder echoed in the distance. Faint music played from somewhere, though she couldn’t discern a tune from the discordant sounds. Somewhere near her, something brushed along the ground, scraping against dry leaves and occasionally dragging a sharp claw against concrete. Fear crawled over her, making her hyper-alert as the sound drifted toward her and then away once more in a slow rhythm.
“Claire,” a voice crooned. “Claire…” It was a strange, high-pitched sing-song tone that she couldn’t place. Chill dread crawled down her spine at the sound of it. “His mommy’s here with me,” the voice lilted. “Shayla’s here with me.”
She jerked the handlebars involuntarily. Something was in her head. She shook herself as she straightened the path. They’d learned about this in her lessons. There were dozens of types of fiends and demons that prowled at night. Some would follow targets, listening for anything they could use to manipulate their intended prey. Others could actually pick up on the thoughts and fears of their targets. Something was trying to toy with her, but it couldn’t hurt her if she didn’t act on it. It was probably this very sort of thing that had lured Shayla out of her house, prompting her to leave her child behind.
Claire clamped down on the handlebars, setting her sights ahead. A bright spot of light glowed in the distance; the open window of Shayla and Will’s house.
“Claire, did you find my boy?” a sweet woman’s voice called. “Did you find my little Will?” For a moment, she could have believed it was the sound of a mother’s voice, honey-sweet and full of concern. But it wasn’t real. “I miss him so, Claire. Please come find me!”
Claire ignored the voice and continued to pedal. The bright light expanded as she neared the house. She eased to a halt at the foot of the driveway, letting the bike rest. The lights in the house painted a bright strip down the middle of the yard.
“Claire, please don’t leave me,” the voice cried. “It’s coming back for me. You have to save me!”
It’s not real. Even as she told herself that, she knew she couldn’t be certain. What if Shayla really was here, just out of sight? No. Shayla didn’t know her name, and the thing calling for her wasn’t human.
Steeling herself, Claire turned in a slow circle to survey her surroundings. The voice was quiet for the moment, and the street was still. Something rustled through leaves across from her, but nothing moved in her immediate vicinity. Even in her duty nights standing guard at the shelters and the hospital, she’d learned that the night was never truly still and quiet. Unease and apprehension were ever-present companions that settled into her belly like a heavy meal.
Claire raised her left arm and recited, “Vola accipiter.” Heat rolled down her arm, followed by a sharp sting, like someone had whacked her with a thin branch. The heat coalesced into a ball of burning light which exploded outward in the form of a hawk. Its long feathers shimmered as it hovered nearby. She felt the familiar brush of magic in her mind, similar to her connection with the wisps. Its touch was just out of
her understanding, like trying to read lips from across the room. “Find the woman,” she said aloud, hoping it would understand. A flash of colors cascaded through her mind, leaving a strange red tinge on her vision that slowly evaporated.
The familiar soared straight upward, then began descending in a wide spiral over the yard. When it reached about Claire’s head height, its flight path suddenly flattened out and darted out toward the street. Another flash of color burst through Claire’s mind.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Did you find her?”
Another flash. In the kaleidoscope of color, she could see a woman’s figure for a moment, then lost it to the rush of red and orange.
The familiar glided down the street, away from the direction Claire had come, seemingly unbothered that she wasn’t following.
“Wait!” she said. It continued its path. She scrambled back to the bicycle, tilting dangerously as she gained her balance and pedaled after it.
“Where are you going, Claire?” the sing-song voice called again. “Don’t leave me here with this thing! You have to save me, I’m going to—” The voice trailed off into a bloodcurdling scream.
Claire tensed. It wasn’t real. It was just something toying with her mind. Despite being almost certain it wasn’t real, she couldn’t keep the image of Shayla out of her mind, lurking just out of sight with something tearing her apart.
Keeping her gaze forward, Claire pedaled harder after the familiar. The northern path took her even further from the Gamma-Rose shelter, where she needed to be by sunrise.
It would be fine. She’d find Will’s mother, and if there was any kindness in the universe, Shayla would be alive and well. At worst, enthralled by a minor fiend that would be easily dispatched. Then she’d get the woman to the closest shelter and be on her way. Barr’s Ferry wasn’t tiny, but it was small enough that she could ride all the way across town to meet the caravan in less than an hour if she had to hurry.
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