“Who are you?” Shayla asked as they emerged from the gates, still hand in hand.
Claire let out a sigh of relief to be out of the dark gravity of the ruined church. “I’m a friend,” she said. A friend who had just missed her ride. There was no hint of the sun yet, but it couldn’t be far off now. Unless she could teleport across town, she would miss the caravan.
Then again, she’d known it would go that way for a while, hadn’t she? Somewhere deep down, she’d known that hours earlier, when she bypassed the shelter and headed here to the church. A quiet, tired dread gripped her as she pictured the fleet of trucks and campers driving out of town and heading westward. Perhaps they’d wait for her.
Who was she kidding? Perhaps was a pretty lie to convince herself to hold out hope for something she knew wouldn’t happen. Her chance was gone.
But in that moment, what little sorrow she felt was overshadowed by the pure relief that radiated through her, like hot chocolate on a winter night. Shayla was disheveled, her hair matted to her face by sweat and her clothes streaked in the black ichor from the burnt tendrils that had bound her. But her blue eyes were clear, and her cheeks were flushed with color that only came with being alive. Whatever Claire had lost today, it was worth it to see Shayla standing there.
“You said you knew where Will is? Is he okay?” Shayla asked.
Claire nodded. “I took him to shelter,” she said. “He’s in good hands.”
Shayla’s face creased as she took in the news. “I can’t believe this happened,” she said, scrubbing at her tear-filled eyes and leaving streaks of ichor on her flushed cheeks. “We’re so careful.”
“I know,” Claire said. She patted Shayla’s shoulder. “It’s going to be all right.”
She had just taken her first steps toward town when Shayla grabbed her by the shoulders. “You must be our guardian angel,” she said. And then she wrapped Claire in a crushing hug.
Claire tensed as the woman embraced her. Reluctantly, she gave a half-hearted hug in return and extricated herself. “I’m glad I could help,” she said. As she reached the street, she sighed in grim resignation.
In one final act of spite, Alyxaura had destroyed Claire’s borrowed bike. Its tires were both ripped apart by sharp teeth, the frame bent beyond repair. It was a long walk back to town.
Twilight’s blue haze seeped into the atmosphere by the time they reached the Anderson Way shelter. Claire’s injured leg was a smoldering ember of pain after limping miles in the low light. The door guards took one look at her and Shayla and ushered them in. As the sheer exhaustion of the night took over, Claire wavered on her feet, then flopped onto the lumpy couch in the shelter’s lobby. The voices grew distant, and before she knew it, the comforting dark of sleep had consumed her.
***
Someone shook her. Claire’s eyes felt stuck together as she tried to stir. Sun wreathed Sister Danica’s scowling face as she stared down. “Really, Claire?” was all she had to say. Claire was still half dozing as Danica spoke quietly to the guards running the shelter. A few minutes later, Danica shook her again. “Get up. We’re going.”
A sick, sleepy feeling still clung to Claire. While she slept, someone had wrapped a pad of white bandages around her right calf, but standing up pulled at the barely-closed wounds. She winced but made no sound as she followed Danica with dread creeping over her. “Where are—”
“Be. Quiet,” Danica seethed. One of the Lumina Jeeps was outside. Sister Jackie was at the wheel. After letting Claire climb awkwardly into the back, Danica slid into the seat and gestured at Jackie. They were silent as they drove through town, back toward Golden Rose. Back to the start, like none of it had happened.
Judging by the sun, it was late afternoon, verging on hot but still pleasant after a night in the darkness. Barr’s Ferry was quiet, as if unaware of what had transpired the night before and oblivious to the fear-filled night that was to come in a few hours.
If she’d been really smart, she would have worked out a way to steal one of the Jeeps for the night. Didn’t matter now. She’d blown her chance. The caravan was probably a hundred miles away by now, and Claire was in the back of a Jeep pulling into the gates of Golden Rose, back where she didn’t belong. She wouldn’t get a chance like that again.
Once they parked in front of the school, Danica waited for Claire to climb awkwardly out of the Jeep. Then she snapped her fingers and took off at a brisk walk toward the campus. “Come on,” she snapped.
“My leg is hurt,” Claire said, willing her aching legs to move faster. “I can’t keep up.”
Danica stopped on the steps, turning around to fix her eerie, mismatched glare on her. “And whose fault is that?”
A scowl twisted Claire’s face as she followed Danica into the school. Either her anger had given her a little more verve, or Danica had indeed slowed down for her. She trailed behind the sister into the school. Her heart pounded as Danica led her down a hallway, past the auto shop, and down a flight of stairs to the basement.
Claire’s heart thumped at the sight of the dim area. It smelled like chemicals and citrus. A row of doors marked the dingy cinderblock walls, each marked with a plastic sign. Danica walked to the closest one, whose chipped green sign read Storage A. She opened the door onto a small, cell-like room. Empty metal shelves lined one wall, while a low cot was shoved against the other. A chair was pushed against the shelves, and a cup of pens was placed on a shelf at waist height, like a makeshift desk.
“You’re kidding,” Claire said flatly.
“Welcome home,” Danica said sharply. The older woman pushed her into the room. She wasn’t rough, but firm enough to make it clear that it wasn’t a suggestion.
The door slammed. Claire groaned and pounded her fist against the door. “You can’t lock me in here!”
Danica responded by locking the door, leaving Claire alone in the small room. Obviously she could, would, and had. Claire slumped and plopped onto the cot. She hadn’t just gone back to where she started; she was even further back than she’d begun. If she’d never left, she would have been better off.
But that wasn’t true, not really. She’d saved Shayla’s life. A smile of pride pulled at her lips as she allowed herself to bask in the self-indulgent moment. She saved someone. Will was alive, and he had a mother. She didn’t know what Danica had in store, but it would be worth it.
Fighting against her aching body, Claire peeled off her sweat-soaked coat. One sleeve was tattered from the hunger-hound’s teeth. The wound on her arm was angry and swollen. Like the bite on her leg, it was surrounded in dark streaks as if the night itself had infected her veins. Wincing, she bent over to untie her sneakers and pry them off. Her left sock was red. She peeled it off to let her foot dry. With nothing to cover the wounds, she had done all she could do.
Claire leaned back on the bed, staring up at the water-stained ceiling tiles. What happened next? She didn’t know any novices who’d tried to run away, so she wasn’t sure what to expect. This wasn’t her first time in the basement, but she’d not done anything so serious before. How long would they leave someone down here?
Her worries didn’t last long as exhaustion took over once more, and she dozed off.
Her heavy slumber was interrupted when the door opened, banging against the shelves. Claire sat bolt upright, triggering a massive headache.
Sister Jackie stood at the door, holding a set of uniform clothes with a white plastic box on top. She set them on the shelf closest the door, her mouth pressed into a grim line.
“Sister Danica said you needed first aid.”
“Can I see Sister Timani?” Claire said.
Jackie shook her head. “Danica said you’re to deal with this yourself. I believe her exact words were ‘she made her bed. Let her lay in it.’” She paused, wincing a little. “Sorry.”
And with that, Jackie locked the door behind her.
It took an hour of cursing through gritted teeth to clean and dress her wounds. She co
vered the two bites, still concerned with the vein-like traces radiating from them. There wasn’t enough of the gauze left to wrap the long slashes down her thigh, so she gingerly doused it with antibiotic ointment and lay on her stomach to let it air out.
Maybe Danica really was going to let her rot down here.
***
The evening announcements counted down to sunrise, marking night’s arrival. It was surprisingly pleasant to be inside and underground, not having to worry about everything being secured. A few fleeting nightmares jolted her from sleep, but Claire managed to go back to sleep and didn’t wake again until morning announcements began.
The morning brought another guest. This time, Sister Anne-Marie came to take her to the restroom, then left her with another set of fresh clothes and a paper bag with a muffin and an apple from breakfast. Like Jackie, she had little to say. Interspersed among daily announcements, Claire had four more meal deliveries, one of which included a textbook with a note to copy sentences if she got bored, signed from Danica. She resisted the urge to write some choice words in a sentence and left the book where it lay. Dinner delivery after the second sunset was accompanied by an ornate origami flower hidden in the napkin. Opening one of the pink paper petals revealed a short note in Data’s unmistakable handwriting.
Sorry it’s late. I’m glad you’re safe. Happy birthday.
Finally, with lunch on her third day in the basement, Danica returned with clothes and dropped them on the end of the bed. “Get up and get ready.”
“How long are you going to leave me here?”
“I will leave you as long as I see fit,” Danica replied. “Get dressed.”
“Not with you standing there,” Claire replied. The older woman’s nostrils flared. She didn’t care at this point if she offended her.
Danica turned slowly, folding her arms over her chest while she stood in the doorway.
As Claire stripped off her pajamas and donned the uniform shirt, she examined her forearm. The dark gray around the wound had mostly dissipated. The angry red remained, but the color and the painful sensation seemed normal now. Her hair was a mess; she’d only been given basic toiletries to try to wash up in a sink, and she’d been holding out for a shower before trying to maneuver her head under the tiny faucet. Her braid was greasy and disheveled. She quickly pried it apart, combed through the matted strands with her fingers, and was still rebraiding it when Danica turned around.
“Let me see your arm,” the woman said. Her eyes rolled as Claire finished nimbly twisting her hair into the braid and tied it off. She held out her hand, and Claire extended her arm. She held Claire’s wrist lightly, examining the bite. A warm sensation rolled over her, like something was emanating from Danica. The older woman knelt, pulling up Claire’s pant leg to examine the other bite. “Do you feel cold? Nauseous?”
“No,” Claire said. “I did, but not anymore.”
“Good,” Danica said. She released the loose fabric and stood up straight, towering over Claire. “Someone is here to see you. Let’s go.”
Chapter Ten
The sun was painfully bright as Claire emerged into the midday light. After the cool darkness of the basement, it was a relief to be outside and breathing air that didn’t smell like bleach. Thankfully, Danica had taken her out the side door to avoid the lunch crowd, walking her around to the garden on the far end of the campus. When they arrived, she was surprised to see Shayla sitting on one of the concrete benches. Will was playing at her feet, pushing a small toy car through the dirt.
At their approach, Shayla looked up. “Hi,” she said warmly. At the sound of her voice, Will looked up, smiled in recognition, and ran toward Claire. He barreled into her and squeezed her around the legs. For a moment, she didn’t mind the tight grip even against the still-tender claw marks.
“Hi there,” Claire said, the pleasure of seeing him alive and well breaking through her dread.
“Mommy!” Will said, turning back to his mother. “Can I give it?”
Shayla nodded. She had a small tote bag, which she opened to pull out a thin package. She handed it to Will, who retrieved it and handed it up to Claire. “A birthday present,” he said proudly. It had been wrapped in a sheet of newspaper and secured with a piece of blue ribbon.
“Just a present,” Shayla said. “It’s not her birthday.”
Only Data knew, but her birthday had been the day she returned to Golden Rose. She suppressed a smile at the coincidence and carefully untied the ribbon. Tearing apart the paper revealed a brightly colored children’s book. The breath whooshed out of her lungs. It was The Dragon’s Princess. It was the exact version she’d owned, down to the odd watercolor drawings and spindly gold letters on the cover. She gaped at it, running her fingers over the raised letters on the cover.
“It’s not much,” Shayla said. “He was very insistent on giving it to you. It’s his favorite story, and he wanted you to have it.”
Her eyes stung as she stared at the book. She realized she still hadn’t spoken when Will slapped her knee to get her attention. “Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s the best gift I ever got,” she replied. How could they have known what this book meant? How many times had she sat with her mother, insisting that she act out the dragon’s rumbling voice or actually sing the princess’s magic song?
Perhaps coincidence was the wrong word.
Kneeling, she opened her arms to hug Will. His tiny body nestled against hers as he squeezed her neck. With her hand resting on his back, she felt the subtle thump of his little heart.
“Maybe she can read it to you later,” Shayla said. She looked up at Danica. “Could we have a few minutes?”
“Of course,” Danica said. She looked down at Will, and for the first time, Claire saw the older woman soften. Her eyes widened, and her full lips pulled into a genuine smile. “Do you want to come see my garden?”
He nodded shyly, then let out a squeal of laughter as Danica scooped him off the ground and let him perch on her hip. His hand rested easily on her shoulder, and he was clearly infatuated as she took him away to examine the garden. Though Danica wore an easy expression Claire had never seen, Claire couldn’t help but feel a note of fear. You better bring him back.
“I wanted to tell you thank you again,” Shayla said. “I came yesterday, but that woman said I couldn’t see you.” Her teeth pulled at her lower lip and she winced. “You got in trouble for helping us, didn’t you?”
Claire tilted her head. “Not really. I got in trouble because I left when I shouldn’t—wasn’t supposed to.” She still wasn’t so sure that she shouldn’t have left, not with Shayla sitting in front of her.
“I’m sorry you’re in trouble,” Shayla said. She looked down at the ground. “But I can’t lie. I’m glad you were out there to help us. We’ve already lost so much. If you hadn’t come when you did…”
“I’m glad.” Shayla reached into her bag again and retrieved a bracelet. As she held it out, Claire said, “I can’t take anything else from you.”
“Please. It’s really not much,” Shayla said. “Put out your hand.”
Claire reluctantly extended her hand. Shayla’s hands trembled as she stretched out the elastic cord to slip it over Claire’s hand. The bracelet was made of polished white beads with a single silver bead. The silver orb was stamped with a sun on one side, and a block letter C on the other. As the woman situated the bracelet, Claire noticed she wore a matching one. The silver bead was flipped to show the S.
Her voice was dreamy and faraway. “My mother made these for me and my sisters, saying it would keep us safe. It’s just a handful of cheap beads and thread, but I believed her. One of my sisters developed the spark when she was ten, and she was tempted into service to the Tenebrae. My other sister disappeared four years later. I was the only one that made it. Somehow I thought I could protect my family against all of this. We were always so careful. And then my husband and my little Maria went out one night, never to return. She had
been telling us about this gray and white cat in our yard for days. I think one of those creatures got into her head; she’d been begging me for a kitten for a while, and I think it somehow knew what she wanted. One night, she opened the window and climbed out. We woke up to the alarms, and my husband went to find her. Will was just a baby then, so I stayed to make sure he was safe. Neither of them came back.”
“I’m so sorry,” Claire said. It was painful to hear, yet it was hardly the first story like it Claire had heard. Most of the girls at Golden Rose had a similar tale.
Shayla nodded. “It’s been about three years, but I think every day about what I could have done to protect her better. Her birthday was a few weeks ago, and I’ve been thinking about her constantly. I…I still don’t even know if she’s alive or dead. And then the other night, I heard her little voice right outside the house. She told me she’d escaped, and she just wanted to come home to us. Deep down I knew what it was, and I still couldn’t resist it. I opened the window, and it was her. Chubby cheeks, wild hair everywhere, like no time had passed. It was her. I would have followed her right into hell.”
“You know it wasn’t really her, though,” Claire said.
Shayla’s face was grim. “I know. I think I knew even then, but I wanted so badly for it to be her. The things it knew about her, and the way it mimicked her little voice…it must have met her before.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m not sure how comforting it is to know that it really wasn’t her.” Her breathing hitched, but she maintained her composure as she picked up her bag and clutched it. Her eyes were glistening as she looked up. “I’m rambling. You’ve done enough without having to listen to me gripe. I know saving us was difficult, and you could have easily turned a blind eye. I’m thankful that you didn’t.”
“I’m just glad you’re both safe,” Claire said.
“Mama!” Will shouted.
Danica returned to the garden with a toddler bolting ahead of her. He had a fat strawberry in one hand, and his lips were stained red. The red juice trickling over his chin almost looked like blood, which was an unsettling sight.
Moonlight Rising Page 17
