Kit crossed the room. She swallowed and knelt, feeling the heat radiating from the boy’s skin. Kit didn’t think she could catch whatever this disease was. She had breathed the air from the carts enough that she would have taken ill by now if she could. She rarely caught anything humans seemed to catch. The twits watched her like she was a doctor or the Prophetess. Yuzu snagged Kit’s gaze again. The girl knew little could be done. Kit sighed. What would her shepherd do? Knowing him, he would mention a book about this. A book. What was it he rambled on about that one night?
Kit dug through her memories. Timothy had a habit of rambling on about whatever had his attention. Most of it Kit had little interest in or knowledge of. She would just smile and nod while he rambled. Kit was sure her eyes must have had a glaze, but he never seemed to notice. Why would anyone want to read about trees or bridges? He said something about the bark of a tree being good for fevers. Walnut? No willow. That was it. Willow bark.
“We need to make willow bark tea for his fever.”
“What’s a willow?” Mira asked.
“It’s a tree. I know where one is,” Yuzu said. “I need to talk with you, Kit.”
Kit gazed at Hoss and Mira, watching as hope blossomed in their eyes. Stupid. Colt didn’t look far away from riding one of those wagons. “Get water in him. Put damp rags on him.” She followed the dark-haired girl—woman—outside.
“When Colt gets better, you are going to be an official member,” Hoss said to Kit’s back.
“He isn’t going to make it,” Yuzu said once they were far enough away from the curtain.
“No. Although my shepherd wouldn’t give up.”
“Shepherd? Look, these kids need someone they can trust. They…their parents all…took wagon rides soon after all this started. They are looking at you the same as they did me. Don’t get their hopes up. Willow tea. Can’t hurt to try.” Her dark gaze flicked away. “Allen always said I…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just be off with you.” Yuzu trudged away, leaving Kit at the mouth of the alley.
Kit tugged her hood. Not everyone could be saved. But there is one I can save. Her conscience nagged her. What harm would it do to help these kids? It’s not like Kit could do anything until after dark.
“When I find you, shepherd, I am going to shear you for all the trouble you are causing me.”
Chapter 6
“Timothy? Where are you?” Evelyn’s voice carried through the building. “It is time for your supper and bath. You better not be out playing at this hour.”
Timothy smacked his shoulder against the whitewashed wall. His knees felt like paper soaked in water, and damp wool stuffed his head. He fumbled with the door’s lock.
“I will tell you a bedtime story. Come to your mother, Timmy.”
The lock clicked. Timothy plunged into the night, slamming the door behind. He ran as fast as his weak legs could carry, away from Evelyn’s voice. The moon’s light played hide and seek with the street ahead of him. Fires continued to burn, and a few people sat near the large pyres, eyes staring at the flames that carried loved ones away. Timothy forced his legs to work. Evelyn wouldn’t be too long in following.
His eyes burned. The air threatened to freeze his sweat-dampened shirt. A few streets more and he could hide and rest. He shambled on, keeping close to the buildings for support. As he moved farther away, the constant smoke thinned. He stopped and sagged against a wall, gasping for breath. As the hammering in his ears cleared, he heard footsteps echo up the avenue. Timothy pulled himself upright with effort and prepared to dart. I won’t go back.
Suddenly, Shefar emerged from the night. His face was thinner and older than Timothy remembered. Grime clung to his fine clothing.
“Master Clarke! So you are alive.” Shefar wiped his forehead. “Come with us! I heard Lord Heim’s men look to have caught…” He trailed off. The moon appeared from behind the clouds swirling overhead.
A way out. Timothy wanted to sink to his knees. People milled behind the tailor. A woman in a once-resplendent dress slashed with bright yellow and several other people, all dressed in rich clothing of various hues, looked ready to run down the street at a lamb’s sneeze. They clung to bulging bags. Behind them, Trent appeared from the shadows.
Timothy shoved past Shefar before he knew what he was doing; his fists curled around Trent’s lapels. Trent tried to back away, but Timothy held firm. The peacock’s eyes widened, and he reached for Timothy’s wrist, stopping just before touching it. Trent spluttered as moonlight illuminated the black marks on Timothy’s skin. Trent turned his head away.
“Where is she??” Timothy shook Trent. His woolen mind wondered where his sudden surge of strength had come from.
“She?” Trent’s throat worked.
“Kit!” Timothy shook the man again for good measure.
“I…I haven’t seen her since…since we hid at Shefar’s manor to keep away from this.” He flipped a hand.
“Where is she?” A small voice in the back of his mind yelled at him to stop.
Shefar laid a hand on Timothy’s shoulder. “It’s true, lad. We have been hiding since this started. We waited until dark once we heard about the problem with Lord Heim’s men ended. You know they shot people who tried to escape, right? We haven’t seen your lady. It is best to avoid people who are…sick.” Shefar removed his hand and wiped it on his coat.
Timothy’s strength fled him. He shoved Trent away. The man adjusted his ridiculous hat and stopped his hands short of smoothing his shirt. The man looked down at the shirt like a lamb looked at a hungry dog. Timothy refused to let his legs give out.
“Good luck, lad. I hope…” Shefar looked at Timothy and shook his head. “She will be all right.” Shefar walked wide around him. Trent followed, staring at Timothy. The followers gave him a wide berth before disappearing into the darkness. His mind fumbled. She wasn’t with Trent. Melanie’s inn!
He vaguely remembered looking for Kit at the inn before. Maybe it was in a dream. She would be there now. She had to be. His mind fuzzed.
He lurched into a dogged, stumbling run. She had to be there. The familiar building front appeared in the waning light. He crashed into the wooden door, fumbling with the handle. The common room stood empty. Tables and chairs waited, undisturbed. A thin film of dust coated the round, polished tables. He fell up the stairs. The banister didn’t have any dust. He leaned and stumbled along the hall until he came to their room. The door stood open. He burst into the room, tripped over his feet, and collapsed onto the bed. He lay still for a moment on the soft coverlet, dazed. He hoped to hear her voice heckle him. He gathered his strength and pushed himself upright with quivering arms.
The silent room stood empty.
Several plates were stacked on the desk. The bed’s coverlet was rumpled, and a few red hairs clung to it.
She was here!
Now all he had to do was wait. She would be back.
His mind drifted with the fire of the disease that tried to char his bones. He didn’t have much time. It had to be enough. She would come. She should have left the city. Was she looking for him? The bed still felt warm, as if she had slept in it just a few moments ago. The effort of getting to the inn room crashed on him, and sleep pulled him into hot darkness.
* * *
He awoke with a start. Morning light painted the room with soft oranges and reds. He felt someone’s gaze on him. He jerked upright, and his head spun from the sudden movement. “Kit?”
“Such a bad boy, making your mother worry so. I had to look all night for you.” Evelyn sat in the high-backed chair. The door was closed behind her. “You are not clean yet, sweetie. It won’t be long before the entire town is clean. Yes, I think tonight. One more day for souls to burn. It will start here with us. Yes. That is best.”
The chair creaked as she stood. She crossed the room and pushed Timothy back into the tangled blankets. He tried to resist, but his body wouldn’t obey. His mother was such a little woman, yet he felt
as if all his strength had been beaten out of him.
“Where better than a demon’s nest? Yes, I know about her. I’ve seen you with her many times. I smell her here. My poor boy. Tonight you will be free.”
Sweat dripped from Evelyn’s face. Purple-black splotches erupted from her once-smooth cheeks. Timothy didn’t remember seeing them. She smiled.
“I too am being cleansed within. God sees and hears prayers. Maybe I will be a lucky one. Maybe you will be a lucky one to go directly to his embrace.” With two fingers, she squeezed a ripe skin mushroom on her cheek. Timothy looked away.
“See? Our sins are being pushed from our bodies? Yes. You understand. Clean. Dirt pushed out of our souls. We will be in heaven together and away from this world of lies and broken promises. Sleep, my little boy. Sleep.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but his dry throat could only rasp. His legs refused to work. His fingers clawed the sheets. Evelyn settled on the bed beside him and stroked his forehead. She began to sing.
Sweet baby boy in the crib,
Rocking, careful of the wind,
Momma’s here, Momma’s here.
Sleep, sleep, sleep. Let lambs carry you to sleep.
Don’t cry, Momma will keep you safe.
Sleep, sweet baby boy in the crib.
* * *
Tera squinted. The blurry, full-length mirror—a luxury she felt guilty about—revealed a face that she didn’t know. Lines marred her eyes, and her cheekbones protruded. She counted too many ribs, but there were others who needed food more than she. There were too many orphans. At least her white skin was free of God’s punishment. She slipped a laundered habit over her thin frame.
She took a deep breath and left her small sleeping chamber. The morning light filtered through the church’s stained glass windows. The light painted past saints and heroes across the worn stone floor. Tera wondered how people learned to make glass that turned light into living stories. She needed to draw strength from those stories now.
She walked around a mousy boy sleeping in the walkway a few feet from a bench and a sleeping Caroline. He hugged his thin blanket. Other children slept whenever they could find space. Tera stopped and laid a hand on the old woman’s shoulder. Caroline slept upright in the same bench every night. Wrinkled eyelids fluttered open. Her sagging beauty smiled.
“Good morning, Sister.”
If it wasn’t for people like her, Tera wouldn’t know what to do. There was food to gather. Clothes to wash. Tera insisted on washing. She remembered Mother Mae being adamant about keeping the sick and those who care for them clean. There were always more sick. There were always those who didn’t make it through the night.
“Bless you, Caroline. Please see everyone else up. It is good for the children to awake to a hot breakfast.”
Caroline nodded and lifted her weathered bones off the hard bench. So far, the woman was free of God’s judgment. Caroline caught Tera’s look of concern.
“What is it, Sister?”
“I worry about you catching it,” Tera said. “If it wasn’t for you…” She trailed off.
“Don’t worry about me, Sister. I am too old to catch anything. I’ve had it all already.”
Tera’s eyes widened. “God struck you once too?”
Caroline laughed. “I was wicked in my younger days. I wasn’t always old and wrinkled. This illness hit my little hometown once,” she winked. “The boys used to fall over themselves for my attention. But that is long past.”
She rested her hand on Tera’s shoulder. “You are doing well. Far better than the old nun did with my village.” She squeezed Tera’s shoulder. “You need to eat more. Falling over will help no one.”
Since Tera had met Caroline and the men had chased off the demon, people had been flocking to the church. Buildings around the church were adapted to apartments and sickrooms. Night and day blurred together. It felt like months, but Tera knew only days had passed. It surprised her how fast long days of work thinned her. She smiled and wiped away a stray tear. “I wouldn’t know what to do without people like you, Caroline.”
“Bah. You would still do what you are doing without an old woman like me. Promise me you will eat.”
“I will.”
“Good. I best get these lazy louts working before the children wake.” The old woman weaved around the sleeping, scattered children with grace that belied her stooped body. What did Caroline do in her younger days? Tera wondered. She struggled to imagine the woman young.
Tera pushed opened the church doors. The cold wind blew the scent of smoke into her face. She pulled her habit around her. Winter threatened to come sooner than it should.
“Sister Tera.” A young man waited just outside. He bowed with a fist against his chest.
Tera sighed. The fool boy insisted on saluting. “What is it, Vyrin?”
“The Prophetess held another meeting last night.” Vyrin scratched at a round scar on his forehead. Many Caroline brought with her had been spared God’s ultimate judgment.
Tera frowned. The Prophetess again. Smoke curled from the northern quarter of the town, where the rich used to live. Now, the people God claimed were burned there. Tera had to put people’s minds at ease about that. Most people thought the body had to be laid to rest in hallowed grounds, but the cemetery surrounding the church couldn’t possibly hold everyone.
At least the Prophetess taught about using smoke to clean houses of the sickness. Caroline said that advice was sound. Tera let Caroline burn her herb bundles every night. It couldn’t hurt at least. From what Vyrin had told Tera, the people who followed this Prophetess had given up all hope. Desperate people tended to do anything and believe anything, even when those beliefs endangered them.
“I also saw something else, Sister,” Vyrin’s voice held a sharpness that pulled Tera from her thoughts. “I also saw the demon.”
Tera froze. “You found her?”
Vyrin nodded. “It was heading down Singleton Street when I lost sight. I think it has a den down one of those alleys. It wore a cloak, like you said it would, and I saw the red hair.”
Tera fingered her rosary. “Can you find it?”
Vyrin puffed out his chest. “I grew up on Singleton Street and Butcher’s Street.”
Tera smiled. She felt a burden lift from her shoulders. They finally found it! You can’t get away this time, fox. She laid a hand on Vyrin’s shoulder. A blush emphasized the smaller scars on his face. She could not let this chance pass. She itched to face the demon, but she couldn’t leave her people behind. The demon deserved to be burned at the stake for bringing God’s wrath upon them.
Vyrin’s gaze flicked away and then back. His gaze drifted down to her chest. Tera frowned. He saw too much of the young woman and not enough of the nun, but either would be useful. For a moment Tera felt disgusted with herself for even considering using people like that. She decided she would confess to Mother Mae and serve a penance for it after this was finished. As much as she wanted to go finish the demon herself, she had to trust in God and young men like Vyrin to put an end to the creature. The thought gave her pause. Even just a few days ago she wouldn’t have entertained the idea of relying on others for such an important task.
“Take as many as you think you will need. Just don’t take any young boys. She is strong and cunning. Be careful of her tricks.”
Vyrin thumped his fist over his heart and bowed. “So shall it be.” His grin ruined the salute. The young man darted down the stairs.
Tera followed the scent of breakfast back into the church. The sounds of waking children greeted her. More people would come looking for a meal. There were more of them each day. Tera had much to keep her busy. People relied on her, and it was her duty to care for those in need. She had to trust in God and the men. She squared her aching shoulders and faced another day.
* * *
Kit smelled the air. The odd, faint mix of musty books and wool tantalized. She frowned. The scent seemed to be leading her toward M
elanie’s inn. She wasn’t close enough to the north end of town yet to be able to smell Timothy through the ever-present smoke scent. So why would her nose find him here? Could he have gotten away?
It would be just like him to not be there to see my grand entrance.
Her stomach reminded her she hadn’t raided the inn’s pantry since yesterday morning. It wouldn’t hurt to search the building, just in case, and grab something to eat. She was amazed that no one else had tried to get at the stuffed pantry.
The sun warmed the air for a change. A few people moved along the streets. Not a single death cart rumbled down the cobblestones. Kit took that as a good sign, but the sign did little to help her mood. She spent the night brewing willow tea while Mira, Hoss, and Yuzu slept. Kit wished she hadn’t half-listened to Timothy’s rambles. Almost. Colt’s—Kit thought that was the boy’s name—fever broke with the morning gloom. The boy would bear the scars of the illness, but she suspected he would live. She yawned, and her ears pushed against her hood. The scent grew stronger as she walked closer to the inn.
“You better not be leading me on, shepherd.”
A voice came from behind Kit. “Who is this shepherd you are looking for? He must be important.”
Kit glared at the girl who insisted on following her. Yuzu smiled back. “Why are you following me anyway?” Kit resisted flashing a fang. She bet the fool girl would run if she knew what Kit really was.
“You saved Colt. It is only fair I return the help. Who is this shepherd you keep grouching about?”
“I didn’t ask for your help. Once I find Timothy, we are gone. We have a long way to go.” Kit picked up her pace. Better that than throttling the girl.
“Timothy is your husband?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate with the lie. She had played the role of wife for so long that she sometimes thought of herself that way. Maybe Timothy’s original idea of her being his sister would have been better. But she rather enjoyed her wifely privileges of pestering the man. A sister could not heckle in the ways that were the most fun. It is funny how I took a liking to the man. Stupid nose.
Shepherd Hunted Page 7
