Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(53)

She let out a breath that whisked away in a little cloud. “Let’s help clean up and get home. This one, I don’t know, Duncan, this one didn’t give me the lift I usually get from a rescue.”

“That makes two of us. Yeah, let’s clean up, get home.”

As he turned to walk with her, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. His sword all but flew back into his hand. The girl hiding behind the hut cringed, whimpered. Eyes blue as cornflowers gleamed with tears over fear.

On an expelled breath, Duncan sheathed his sword. “We won’t hurt you. You’re safe now.”

But she shook her head, curled into a tighter ball. “You need to come with us.” Tonia tried to mimic her mother’s no-bullshit tone. “We’ll take you somewhere safe and warm.”

“The women aren’t ever to leave the sacred valley.”

Duncan figured she was maybe his age, maybe a little younger. He didn’t think that qualified as woman, but let it pass. “It’s not safe here anymore. The PWs know about it, and they may come back. What’s your name?”

“I—Petra.”

“Listen, Petra. Is your mom, or maybe your dad here? We’ll help you find them.”

“My mother died giving me life because I’m cursed. My—my father …”

She pointed toward the blackened husk on the ground.

“I’m sorry.” Tonia crouched down. “I’m really sorry. You need to come with us. There’s nothing left for you here.”

“Javier the Blessed says—”

“He’s not here.” Out of patience, Duncan threw out a hand to show the dead, the blood, the destruction. “You see him?”

“They took him away.”

“Who?” Tonia demanded.

“The people who came to defile the sacred valley. I saw them drag him away.”

“So he’s not here,” Duncan concluded. “Neither is anybody else right now. So you need to come with us.”

“It’s a good place,” Tonia added. “We’re going to a good place.”

“Holy ground?”

“It’s a good place,” she repeated and offered her hand. “We’ll be taking some of your … people there, too. Anyone who wants to come. You’ll have food and shelter.” And a shower, Tonia thought, because, boy, she needed one. “No one will hurt you.”

When she took Tonia’s hand and rose, Duncan noted she was about his sister’s height. Her hair, in a long, matted braid, read dirty blond. Really dirty.

The robe—more of a sack, he thought—looked like some sort of woven material. The same as the useless shoes that came up to her ankles.

But she went quietly enough with Tonia now, so he considered that problem solved. He decided to stay back—his own disciplinary action for breaking ranks—and help burn the dead, as the ground was too hard for burial.

Once they’d settled those of Javier’s cult who came with them—eleven minors, including the infants, and three adults—Eddie made his way home.

They didn’t need him at the clinic, where Rachel and Jonah and the other medicals and healers would deal with the wounded. He’d have her look at his knee in the morning. He just wanted to go home.

They didn’t need him at the kitchen, where volunteers put food together for the people they’d brought in. They didn’t need him to pass out clothes and supplies or to move them into the house more volunteers had readied for just that purpose.

He wanted Fred. He wanted Joe. He wanted to look at his kids, who’d be sleeping. Just look at them.

He walked into the house Fred had turned into a happy, colorful home. Climbed the stairs. He looked into the girls’ room first. Rainbow, their oldest, cuddled under the multicolored blanket with a cat, a puppy, and a smile on her face.

Angel, their youngest, sprawled over her bed, all but buried in her collection of stuffed toys.

He moved on to his son’s room. Max. His middle child, named for a dead friend, slept with another puppy, his favorite truck, and even in sleep looked ready to cause trouble.

His eyes burned.

In all of his life, Eddie had never imagined loving anything, anyone, the way he loved his kids. Would he have them, would he have Fred, who just lit up his freaking world, would he have this life if not for Max and Lana?

He walked toward the room where he knew Fred would be waiting up for him. She sat up in bed, her red hair a glorious halo of curls, her belly rounded with their fourth child as she worked on crocheting a blanket for their new baby.

On the floor, curled on the rug with yet another puppy, Joe thumped his tail in greeting.

“I heard you come in.” Fred set the blanket aside. “Bryar sent word a couple hours ago that everybody was okay.” Her smile faded. “You don’t look okay. I’m going to fix you something to eat.”

“No. No, don’t get up.” He waved her back, walked in, and sat heavily on the side of the bed, one he’d brought back from an abandoned house sixty miles away because he knew she’d like the canopy. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re limping.”

“Just banged up my knee.”

“Rachel or—”

“Tomorrow, okay? I needed to be home. Somebody’ll look at it tomorrow.”