not fear, filled my mouth. I spat at my brother, a big shining gob of hate.
The least I could do, the most I could do, was ruin the traitor’s boots.
Rats crawled all over me.
Claws scritching, scratching; jaws squeaking like door hinges. Skittering across the storage room’s cold concrete floor, they spoke with my brother’s voice.
“Get up,” they said. Thump, thump; a herd of them landed on my shoulder. Jump, jump; they urged me awake.
“Get up,” they repeated. I didn’t want to. My head was heavy, my lashes stuck together with the glue of dried tears. The bites on my stomach itched, already healing; the bruises Mister Pérouse had left on my face, thighs and buttocks throbbed. My ears rang with the sound of his blows, the echo of his words.
“You think I’ve hidden you for my sake?” Whack. “Imbécile.” Whack. “Idiot.” Pause. “I’ve done this for you,” whack, “not me.” Whack, whack. “For the baby.” Whack. Whack. Whack. “He’ll not be born for years if you’re turned.” Whack. Pause. “We don’t need another Arianne!”
My cheeks grew hot with shame. They stung like someone was slapping me. I rolled over, but the feeling persisted.
Someone was slapping me.
“I’m sorry,” I said to the baby.
“Get up, hurry! It’s almost dusk—he’ll be awake soon.”
I peeled my eyelids apart; it hardly made a difference. Harley’s silhouette blocked most of the light sneaking in from the corridor. Eyes open or closed, the space was dark, and so small it hardly deserved to be called a room. It was barely a cupboard, just outside my master’s quarters; no more than a few meters deep, half again as wide. Bare shelves lined the walls and a rusted bed frame was crammed in at the back. Three of its legs were twisted. One was snapped off at the base.
I sat up, my back and joints aching. The baby turned and kicked, as unhappy to sleep on the floor as her mother. Harley put down the pail and broom he carried, then pulled at my hand, “Come on. You don’t have much time and this—” he gestured at the cleaning supplies “—won’t fool anyone for long.”
It took me a second to realize what his presence meant. “You have a key?”
The question was redundant: I could see it clutched in his fist. I stared at him, mouth agape. My hand rose to my belly, and Harl read the gesture for what it was: Why haven’t you used it before now?
“I don’t want any trouble. Just go. You’re ruining everything, Adelaide.” Adelaide, not Ada. “It was all fine—everything is fine. We’re happy here. I’m happy. We’re happy.” He dragged me to my feet. The door was open, yet I couldn’t go through it.
“Harl—”
He shook his head. “See? That’s what I mean. My name is Harold—get used to it.” His voice went up an octave, and for a second he was the little boy I chased snakes with. The boy who leaped from quarry ridges, a coconut oil sheen on his skin. “But you can’t, can you?”
I thought I’d wept myself dry on the storage room floor, but my sight blurred as I looked at this young man who’d taken over my little brother’s body.
“No,” I said. “No.”
Emotions streamed across Harley’s face; I couldn’t catch all of them. Confusion? Maybe. Disappointment? Certainly. And resolution. Yes, that most of all.
I looked for love, for remorse.
Kept looking.
“Go,” he said, firm as the key he pressed into my palm. “Go home. Now.”
“Oh, Harl.” My voice cracked as I squeezed his hand. “I’ll get Bethany, you get Miah—”
He pulled away. “No, Ada. Just you.”
I stopped halfway out the door. Miah might be lost, but there was still hope for Beth. “It won’t take long, I’ll just—”
“No.” Every line in Harley’s face read, Don’t make me regret this. “‘Just’ nothing. Leave.”
Ma would be so upset if I left them alone. There’s so many dangerous critters in this land, she’d reminded me, almost every day, before she went to work. Then she’d tickle me until I squirmed, adding a witch’s cackle to her voice. And ain’t they all got a hankering for children’s sweet meat!
Irrational, unbidden thoughts. I stamped them out. “Who’ll look after you?”
“Go,” he repeated. No reassuring smile, no farewell embrace. “We’re fine. We’ve been doing just fine.”
“I can’t,” I begin to say, but my daughter kicked me into action. You can, she assured me with a jab to the ribs. You will.
“You sure he’s asleep?”
Harley shrugged.
Without another word I slipped from the room, the key warm