Page 64 of Crown of Tides and Fury

I claimed a couch and stretched out rather than looking for a bed. If I’d found one, I’d have wasted the night wondering what happened to the people who usually slept in it. Thankfully, I was too physically weary to wonder who’d picked out the awful upholstery that surrounded me. Instead, I was grateful for the soft wool blanket I pulled against my cheek.

At least I didn’t have to worry when I smeared black soot on everything.

Just before I closed my eyes, I saw a picture on the wall of three little kids, a boy and two sisters, and I convinced myself they were far, far away in a place that didn’t believe in fairies—in the States, where they were learning that coos and cows were the same thing, just with less hair.

In the morning, I was happy to learn, from the expiration date on the milk, that the family that had lived in that house had left long before the attack. I was relieved for both them and myself—I’d begun to rely too heavily on carefully crafted delusions, and to have one of them work out was all the encouragement I needed to continue.

Next, I aimed my positive thinking to finding that book. “We will definitely find it today,” I muttered to my egg-less pancakes.Definitely.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Back at the Grandfather’s pile of ashes, Wickham popped out and then in again with a metal detector in hand. We found nothing but kept digging and clearing until the floor was exposed, along with the floors of the two outbuildings that had also burned. Then we dug in a dozen places Wickham suggested, going three feet deep and hitting it with the metal detector again.

Nothing. And with only one spot left to look, as far as Wickham was concerned, my positive thinking turned into a pile of ashes too.

Kitch started digging on the last spot. I couldn’t watch and turned away. Then I noticed two men having a heated but private argument out by the road. I nudged Wickham and pointed. When he stopped to watch them, the rest stopped as well, even Kitch. A moment later, the two realized they had an audience.

The first one pulled his ballcap off his head and ducked. “Forgive me,Seanair. It’s just that…we’ve all sworn not to say—”

The second man shoved him. “If metal boxes is what ye’re after…”

“It’s not a box we seek, but a book,” Wickham admitted. “The old Grandfather kenned there would be fire one day, and he would have protected it, ye ken? We believe he would have buried it here, where we could find it.”

The second man nodded. “Auch, aye. And he did--just not here.”

The first man shoved the other man back. “But we cannae take ye to them without breaking ouroaths.”

The second man nodded, then hung his head. “Aye, laird. We cannae take ye to them.”

Wickham moved out to the street with the rest of us following. “This book we seek is our best chance for saving our world, gentlemen. Even I have been forced to break oaths in service to the greater good. These oaths ye’ve made are more important that the future of yer children?”

The two exchanged a look, and the second man shrugged. “It’s our children our vows protect…for they’re hidden in the same place as yer boxes.”

25

The Ledger

Only after Wickham promised to provide an extra layer of protection for the youth of Muirsglen did the townspeople agree to take him and one other to the metal boxes. He chose Urban, since they didn’t know how heavy the boxes might be, and they insisted they both be blindfolded.

A minivan came to collect them.

The rest of us were left to twiddle our thumbs under the watch of a dozen babysitters, contained like hostages, in case something went wrong. As if Wickham might do anything to harm the children they sought to protect.

The woman who had come at me with a knife was one of our caretakers. Her hair was frazzled, and she looked just as tired as the rest of them, but it was impossible to tell what she was thinking when her eyes settled on me every now and then. But I recognized the look—she was subsisting in a constant state of shock.

After searching for survivors on those same streets, I had seen that same look in the mirror, when I could be bothered with mirrors. Two things had brought me back out again—a little vengeance and a lot of friends.

When this was all over, I hoped Wickham would come back for them all. I knew he could pop out large groups of people, but there were too many for Hope House, and they were probably better off in the ruins of a city Orion might not consider worth a second look.

I hoped they would survive that long…

Of course, if we were on the verge of finding a map to all the Powers, Orion’s siege on the Muir world might end relatively soon.

* * *

We movedas a group back to the house we’d slept in the night before for the sake of comfort and toilets. Someone found meat in a freezer and started up the grill. I suggested maybe that meat ought to be left for the survivors and was told electricity was still available from the local windmills, so their food supplies were safe.

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