Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(58)

“You have this big house and all the things.” With wondering eyes, Petra looked around the kitchen. “Just you?”

“And our sister, Hannah, and our mom. Kids don’t live on their own until they’re at least sixteen. Some kids come in without parents or adults. But somebody takes them in, takes care of them.”

Petra bit her lip. “Clarence can go, and he wants to, with others. To live. He tried to run away from the divine, but they brought him back. His curse is wings, and balls of light and—”

“Faerie,” Duncan finished.

“He had to be shunned many times, and closed into the redemption hut before he stopped giving in to his demon. Because he was a child, he wasn’t cast out, but we were afraid he’d give in to his demon again when he reached the age of judgment.”

“Not his demon, his nature,” Duncan corrected. “His gift. Did he ever hurt anyone?”

“Once—twice,” she corrected, “he fought with other boys who said hard things to him.”

“That’s different. That’s called standing up for yourself.”

“He’s going tonight with people called Anne and Marla.”

“They’re nice,” Tonia said with her mouth full. “They live near the academy. They raise sheep and llamas, and weave blankets and sweaters. And make art, too. It’s pretty. Anne’s an elf, but Marla’s a civilian—no abilities. I heard before the Doom, when they lived in Baltimore, they were going to have a baby together.”

“They’re both women. It’s not possible. And it’s sinful.”

“It’s not sinful to love someone. And before the Doom there was science and medical technology to help people have babies when they wanted them. They’re really good people. Clarence is lucky to have them.”

“He said … He told me Miranda can go with him. And that these women would take one more. I could go.”

“You should give it a shot—try it,” Duncan explained. “If you don’t like it there, you don’t have to stay.”

“I could go, then not stay?”

“Anne and Marla wouldn’t make you stay if you weren’t happy.”

“It’s so different. Everything’s so different.”

“Don’t cry,” Tonia comforted. “It’s going to be okay. Have some ginger ale.”

Obediently, Petra lifted the glass, sipped. And laughed as she wiped at tears. “It tickles.”

“It’s the bubbles.”

“I never drank bubbles before. Or don’t remember. So much from before is blurry or mixed up. Esme said we had to go back.”

“Esme?”

“She left, with her baby, and took two of the young ones. She said we had to go back or be damned. But no one wanted to go with her. She left and said she was going back to the holy ground, to the sacred valley. And Jerome left, too. He took things from the place we’re living, and went away. He said I could go with him, but I didn’t want to go with him. It’s good to be warm and to have shoes, and the clothes that don’t scratch, and to eat the pizza and drink the ale. Before is blurred and hard and I was afraid and hungry and cold.”

“Well.” Duncan put another slice of pizza on her plate. “Now starts now.”

“Now starts now,” she echoed, and smiled at him.

She ate the second slice, and since ginger ale had to be rationed, Tonia gave her juice for the next round.

“I’m very thankful for the food and drink. I need to go back. They’ll worry and wonder.” She stood, hesitated. “If I don’t go with Clarence and Miranda to the women, and stay with Mina and her baby, will you still talk to me?”

“Sure we will. We’ll see you in school, and you can hang out with us.”

“I don’t know how to go to school.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll catch on. I’ll walk you out.”

Petra started out with Tonia, then stopped, turned back to Duncan. “It’s hard to talk to those I don’t know. It’s good, but it’s hard. You killed the men with your sword and your curse—your gift,” she corrected quickly as color rose up to her cheeks. “I know they would have taken my life. We’re taught the divine demands we never lift a hand to another, never take up a weapon, even when our life will be taken, or the life of another. It’s the greatest sin. But I was afraid to die. I was afraid.”

“To stand by and do nothing to help someone else? I’ve been taught that is cowardice, and if it’s not a sin, it’s the greatest weakness.”

“Then you’re not weak.”

He sat, brooding, while Tonia took her out. Brooded a little more when his sister came back. He knew Tonia dealt with the dishes right off, without pushing him to help, because she wanted her hands busy. Her way of brooding, he supposed.

“I could’ve been her,” Tonia said.

“Not in a million years.”

But Tonia shook her head. “She’s about our age, maybe a little younger. It’s hard to tell, but we’re about the same age. If we didn’t have Mom, and if she hadn’t had Jonah and Rachel to help her get all of us out of New York. If they hadn’t met up with Arlys and Chuck and Fred, and …”