Page 51 of What Doesn't Kill Her

Things were working out for the Mercenaries.

18

Kellen found her a place to rest and be safe in a small flat spot cradled at the top of a cluster of boulders ten feet above the surrounding forest floor. Up here, the rainwater had drained away from the sandy soil, leaving it damp but not unpleasant. Up here, Rae couldn’t ask if they were there yet, because obviously they weren’t, and even if hoards of mercenaries attacked, Kellen could hold them off for quite a while before she ran out of ammunition.

But mostly, in an hour it would be dark and she could roll out the tarp and her one-person sleeping bag, hide with her kid for the night, eat and sleep and refresh. If they put in some hard hiking the next day, even with constant questions and conversation, they could reach the Restorer and...

She looked at her daughter, drooping against the trunk of a tree. “Come on. It’s like we’re birds, and I’ll help you get up there to our own private nest.”

“I don’t needhelp. I’m nottired.” Rae sounded cranky.

“I know. Let’s get up there and eat and sleep.”

“I’m not tired!”

“But Mommy is.” Kellen pushed Rae up the steep, narrow, slick path to the top. Then dragged herself and her bag and the head up after her. That head was really starting to creep her out. No matter which way she stashed it, eyes stared at her, either the maiden, the mother, or if she caught an unlucky glimpse, the goddess. She was going to be so glad to deliver that thing to the Restorer...

“Mommy?”

Kellen realized she had locked eyes with the goddess, and was hypnotized by that wild angry stare. Not good. Not now. She pulled the jar of peanut butter out of the duffel bag, opened it and stuck her finger in. She took a scoop, put it in her mouth, and passed the jar to Rae.

Rae giggled. “Mommy! We’re not supposed to use our fingers!”

“In a minute, I’ll cut up an apple and find the protein bars.” Which were crumbs by now, but why worry about that technicality? “Right now, let’s get some good stuff into us.”

Rae giggled again and dipped into the peanut butter.

That giggle. Maybe the forest muffled the sound. Probably it carried for miles. “You know what would be a good idea? If we had some kind of alarm that would warn us if the bad guys were coming.”

“I like sirens! Can we have a siren?”

“Did you bring one?”

“No, but I’m not the mommy!”

The kid had a point. The mommy should have come better prepared, and when the mommy got back to civilization, the mommy was going to personally undertake a trip to Washington, DC, to place her boot up Nils Brooks’s uncaring ass. “Since we don’t have a siren, I can only think of one thing that would surprise these guys and make them yell. What if we built a giant spider web and strung it on the bushes around our nest?”

Rae licked her fingers one by one, thoroughly removing the peanut butter. “How?” She looked around. “Are there giant spiders?”

“Better than that.” Kellen slowly drew Rae’s blankie out of the bag. “We have lots of yarn here. If we take this apart—”

Rae lunged and grabbed. “No!”

Kellen released the blankie. “Your grandma can put it back together for you afterward.”

Rae hugged it to her chest. “No!”

“Your blankie wants to keep us safe. It has magic love woven into it to keep us safe.”

“That isbullshit!”The kid was too smart.

“Rae. You don’t say that.”My God.Kellen sounded like...like a parent. Like her aunt.Like my own mother.

Rae stuck out her jaw and looked like that photo of sulky little Cecilia that always made her mother laugh. The memory caused such an uprush of emotion that, before she realized it, Kellen had tears on her cheeks.

“Mommy?” Rae sounded truly horrified. “I’m sorry. I won’t say it again.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m just tired.” And scared to death. Not for herself, but for Rae. Kellen had never had a mission like this. Not in the stony depths of Afghanistan, not in the sandy deserts of Kuwait, not in the terrorist attack in Germany. She was home, in the US. Everything was supposed to be safe and easy. She wasn’t supposed to be staring at a seven-year-old and feeling...feeling...things.

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