Page 45 of Midnight Auto Parts

“What are Perchten?” I cut to the heart of it. “Who is Frau Perchta?”

“Frau Perchta—or Berchta—was a goddess who cared for the Heimchen, spirits of unbaptized children. She’s an Alpine deity. Sightings of her, or her followers, on this continent are rare. I credit ignorance for why the nuns weren’t identified until after they had done harm.”

“A goddess who cares for children’s spirits?” Matty burst out laughing. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Wait.” I lifted a hand to quiet Matty. “Hurting kids is how they got identified?”

As the guardians of orphaned children, these Perchten should have been in their element.

“The Catholic church demonized Berchta when it was discovered the people prayed to her to guard their children instead of calling on the Virgin Mary,” Kierce explained. “They renamed her Perchta, and rather than a benevolent goddess, they painted her as a twisted crone with a hooked, metal nose who carried a knife in her skirts to slit the bellies of anyone who disrespected her.”

“Those lies would piss me off too,” Matty said, “but the nuns who raised us weren’t misunderstood. They were straight-up evil.”

“Belief.” I followed the logic. “The scare tactics of the church transformed Berchta from her true self into Perchta.”

Had that been the reason the nuns hid behind their quasi-Catholic personas? Revenge? Mockery? Hatred? Their purpose had been twisted until they became the monsters they once guarded against.

“And, through their belief, Perchta she became,” Kierce agreed, his tone grim.

“These Perchten ate children.” Matty crossed his arms over his chest. “For misbehaving?”

Ours had for certain, but he appeared to struggle with affixing a label onto our childhood nightmares.

“They did,” Kierce confirmed, his expression distant. “Misbehavior was the excuse for punishing children as the Perchten saw fit, yes, but they also despised children who failed to complete chores or disobeyed their orders. A worse fate than the children they would eat was when Perchten slit their bellies, stuffing them with straw and stones.”

Glad to find our tormenters had their limits, I told him, “We never bumped up against that.”

“We were almost counted in that number. If not for Frankie taking us out of there, we would have been.” Matty frowned. “You knew what they were doing. Why not put a stop to it?”

A curious tilt of Kierce’s head proceeded a soft question. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

“St. Mary’s burnt to the ground thirty years ago.” Matty scowled. “The sisters attacked a teenage pyromancer, and he burst into flames. He killed himself in the process, but he took them out with him.”

As if he expected the answer, Kierce nodded. “Where did you hear that?”

“From a kid who was there at the time.” Matty hesitated. “Are you saying it’s not true?”

“How many children were harmed in this sudden explosion of fiery power?”

“None that I know of.” I checked with Matty who agreed that was the story he had heard too. “But we were gone by then, already living on the streets, so it’s hard to say for sure.”

Had Matty not dream-walked into the mind of a boy about his age, one who had picked on him mercilessly before I broke his arm, we wouldn’t have known that much. Had I wondered at how quickly Matty heard the news? Yes. Had I also suspected he had been tormenting his bully in his sleep? Also yes. Did I care he was maybe taking his revenge fantasies a step too far? Nah. Matty might have sparked the occasional nightmare as a child but only when provoked and never anything drastic. He didn’t have the heart for it.

Lucky for him, he had me. I could still recall the oddly satisfying snap of bone if I tried hard enough. Josie wouldn’t have stopped at the boy’s arm, which left me as the henchman ofour group to spare others from experiencing the firsthand rage of a murderous dryad.

“Our paths almost crossed then.” Kierce stared at our joined hands. “Strange, isn’t it?”

“Quit being romantic and focus.” Matty horned in. “Are you telling usyoudid it?”

“What else could I do after identifying the Perchten?” A line bisected his brow. “I destroyed St. Mary’s to conceal their bodies but also to prevent more from taking their places. Lightning kindled the fire, not the self-sacrificing pyromancer hero from your story. The decision left twenty-four children homeless, but I judged the trade to be worthwhile.”

“They were moved into another facility.” I set his mind at ease. “We made sure of it.”

Penance, perhaps, for not doing more for the kids we left behind. They had suffered as much as us Marys, but we hadn’t given them a second thought as we escaped, leaving them trapped there. We had been too afraid of getting caught, of being dragged back to St. Mary’s, never to leave it again.

“Thank you.” Kierce shut his eyes for a moment. “For telling me.”

A yelp shot out of me as the door slammed open, revealing Josie, whose gaze zeroed in on me.

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