Out where, in the solitude and silence, in the deep midwinter calm, she could be at peace.
Streetlights illuminated her path until she was past Hope-well’s residences and into the farmland beyond. By then, the eastern sky was showing the first traces of brightness, and the black of night was lightening to deep gray. Stars glimmered in small, distant patches through breaking clouds, and the snow-covered fields reflected their silvery sheen.
She picked up her pace, the adrenaline surging through her body, a humming in her ears, the warmth of her blood pushing past the night chill until she didn’t feel it anymore. Her mind worked in response to her body’s energy, and her thoughts whirled this way and that, like kids waving their hands in a classroom, eager to ask questions. She wrestled with them in silence as she listened to the pounding of her shoes on the pavement, working through the mix of emotions the thoughts triggered. She should have been smarter about last night, taking them all to the toboggan run and putting them at risk. She should have been smarter about Bennett and not let her go out alone afterward. She probably should have been smarter about a lot of things—like running alone in the early morning hours when she was vulnerable to an attack by the demons stalking John Ross and the gypsy morph, almost as if daring them to try something.
And perhaps, she thought darkly, she was. Let them try contending with Wraith.
She shook off her bravado quickly, recognizing it for what it was, knowing where it led. Reason and caution would serve her better. But it was anger that drove her thinking. She had not asked to be put in this position, she kept telling herself. She had not wanted Ross to come back into her life, bringing trouble in the form of a four-year-old boy who wouldn’t communicate with anyone. That he had spoken her name, bringing them to her, was bad enough. But that her name alone seemed to be the extent of his ability to respond to her, a boundary beyond which he could not go, was infuriating.
-=O=-***-=O=-
Last night, when Ross and Harper were asleep and she was waiting up for Bennett, just beginning to worry that perhaps everything was not as it should be, he had come out of his room to sit with her. As soundless and fluid as a shadow, he had taken a place on the couch next to her. He had looked at her for just a moment, his blue eyes sweeping her face, and then he had turned his attention to the darkness that lay outside, staring once more through the window into the park. She had watched in silence for a time, then turned around to kneel next to him. The lights were all off, save for a nightlight in the hallway, so there was no reflection in the window, and the snowy sweep of the park, its broad expanse white and shimmering, lay revealed beyond the jagged wall of the hedgerow.
“What are you thinking, Little John?” she had asked, again trying out Two Bears’ advice. Then added, “What do you see?”
No answer. The boy’s features were delicate and fragile, his body slender. His mop of dusky blond hair hung over his forehead and about his ears in ragged wisps. He needed a haircut, she thought, wondering if she should give him one. He needed food and love and a sense of belonging. He was too frail, in danger of fading away.
“Can’t you say something, Little John?” she pressed. “Can’t you talk to me just a little? You spoke my name once. John told me so. You said ‘Nest.’ That’s my name. Did you know about me? Tell me if you did, Little John. Tell me what you need, and I will try to give it to you.”
No answer. The boy’s eyes remained fixed on the park.
“I have magic, too,” she said finally, easing so close they were touching. She half expected him to flinch or move away, but he stayed perfectly still. “I was born with magic, just like you. It isn’t easy having magic, is it? Magic does things to you that you don’t always like. It makes you be something you don’t necessarily want to be. Has that happened with you?”