Page 28 of Firefly

Rebecca gave her a weak smile and slid her legs over the side of the bed. “Let me dress, and I’ll be down in a moment.”

Sarah gave her a wary look, deciding Rebecca’s words were true, and left the room, dragging Thea behind her.

When Rebecca was alone, she swallowed back a sob and repeated the words she said to herself every day since Simon left them. “I will make it. I will be strong for Sarah.”

When she could stand, she did, going to her closet and wrapping a shawl around her nightdress. If her father saw her dressed this way, he would chastise her, but he had already taken everything. What more could he do?

She slid soft slippers onto her feet and left the room, going slowly down the stairs. As she approached the first floor, Sarah’s giggles carried in the foyer, warming some long-frozen part of her.

Stepping into the kitchen, she smiled.

Sarah and Thea froze, looking guilty.

“By all means, carry on,” she said, dropping into a chair as Thea and Sarah resumed their game. Sarah flung a handful of flour at Thea, who dodged it, only to fling a fistful of sugar back.

They continued their dance, coating every surface in white.

“It’s the best this kitchen has looked in years,” Rebecca said, giving them another half smile.

Sarah slid to a stop beside her mother and wrapped white, powdered hands around her neck. “I’m glad you’re back, Mama.”

The words cleaved a hole in her chest. She had mourned Simon’s loss, but it had been at the cost of Sarah’s happiness. And for that, she felt a different kind of ache. Sarah deserved better.

Rebecca reached into the flour bowl and scooped out a handful, flinging it at Sarah, who dodged the blow. She laughed hysterically, reaching into the bowl and flinging powder into her mother’s face.

Rebecca giggled, grabbing Sarah around the waist before she could escape and squeezing her into a hug. “I love you, sweet girl,” she whispered into Sarah’s ear, setting her down.

Chapter 20

Simon

Simon moved alongside a wall, waiting for the soldiers to march by. He was deep behind enemy lines, where the heaviest concentration of demons congregated. He would have assumed he’d found the camp by sheer luck if he wasn’t confident Alexander’s magic was at work.

There had been no way he could know where he was headed when he disembarked and followed an instinct to run in this direction.

Now, he’d been at this forsaken camp for close to nine months, and he was beginning to see the hopelessness of his mission. While there was no shortage of demons, he could not conceive of a way to bring one hundred of them on a boat back to Bath, North Carolina.

It hadn’t needed to be plausible when it was only meant as his escape, but now it was the thing keeping him from Rebecca.

He had tried capturing as many at once as possible and hooking them on his fingers, but he could never move more than four, and the moment he reached a temporary destination and set his body down to rest, they escaped.

There was no scenario where he could capture them beyond dawn.

He kicked a rock, leaning into the wall. He’d thought himself so clever, and now he was destined to spend eternity camped out in whatever den of depravity drew the largest crowd.

As with most nights, his thoughts strayed to Rebecca. With no new demon essence to sustain him, had Alexander resorted to stealing from her again? Was she suffering? Would she die without him there to protect her from her father?

Several too-thin captives stumbled by, carrying buckets to their barracks. The first night Simon had arrived, he’d snuck into their rooms, expecting to have to fight off soldiers, but what he saw had him retching outside for an hour.

The humans inside were little more than skeletal remains, cheekbones cutting jagged lines across their faces. They stared with gaunt eyes when he entered, some not registering his presence.

He’d begun hunting for them, bringing back rats or squirrels, anything he could find to help them, but there were too many of them and not enough wild creatures to feed them. He pillaged Nazi food stores and ran as far as the magic would allow to search the countryside, but everyone was starving, and stealing from one mouth to feed another might mean choosing who starved that night.

He had never known life could be this bad. Suddenly, all his father’s warnings rang true. He was a fool for ever thinking he knew anything about the world or human nature. If he had shipped off to war at eighteen, green behind the ears, the war would have chewed him up and spit him out.

Alexander paled in comparison to the creatures this war produced.

As he explored the camp each night, drawn to the places where demons dwelled, he was forced to observe new and terrible horrors.

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