Page 138 of Prodigal Son

His gaze snapped to hers. “Who told you about my mom?”

She shrugged and tsked. “Well, she wasn’t actually your mom, was she?”

“Way to go. You can eavesdrop.”

She chuckled. “One day, you and all your friends will see just how much power I have.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, that’s why you’re locked in a cell. What’s wrong, did your escape broom burn in the fire? Your aunt might have been powerful, but you’re not. You’re just another orphan with a fucked up past, pissed off at the world and making up stories to get through the pain.”

“Aunts.”

“Huh?”

“I had two aunts. Because of him, they’re both dead. And soon, he’ll be dead, but he’ll never fully die. His body will be his tomb and his rot will be insufferable.”

Dane’s skin chilled, certain the effects of such a spell had already begun.

“And then that little bitch who attacked my aunt will die too,” she vowed, her eyes and promise lifting the hairs on his arms. She was talking about Gracie.

“You stay away from her.”

She tsked and taunted, “Oh, did I hit a nerve? Does the wittle half-breed have a crush on the Amish bloodsucker?” She laughed. “Good. Maybe I’ll let you watch when I kill her.”

He left, hiding his panic, but reporting right to the bishop. “She threatened Gracie.”

“She’s a plebe, Dane. If she had any skill, she wouldn’t be locked in a cell.” The bishop placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and studied him for a moment. “I had a thought. Now that you’re one of us, you should probably make yourself more at home. There’s an old barn, not too far from here. I was thinking you might want to fix it up and make it your own.”

His jaw dropped. Was it the same barn Maggie had mentioned? The bishop’s offer shocked him, and Dane wondered if there was an ulterior motive to his kindness.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you offer that to me?”

The bishop frowned. “Don’t you want a place of your own? I assumed a man your age would appreciate the privacy.”

“I would. I do. I just don’t get it. Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”

He clapped Dane on the shoulder. “Don’t look so shocked. You’re one of us now. We take care of our own.”

Dane fell in love with the barn on the spot. He instantly envisioned how it would look as a home. But boy, did he underestimate how much work it would take to get it to that point.

After gathering several tools and hauling them back to the property, he started the long process of clearing out the space. Using a wooden rake, he shoveled and swept debris from the floor. He started in the loft, working from the rafters where years of cobwebs gathered, and pushing everything down and toward the door. His eyes and nose leaked from all the hay and dust, but every inch of progress filled him with pride. It was hard work, but it was his.

“Dane?” A voice called from below and he stilled.

“Up here.” He stopped raking and watched where the rickety ladder poked through the loft floor. His mood instantly improved when Maggie appeared.

“I thought I saw you come in here.” A piece of straw clung to a curl that escaped her bonnet. She surveyed the old barn. “Did the bishop say you could have it?”

“I didn’t even ask. He just offered it.”

Her smile widened. “So it’s yours? You’re staying?”

He wasn’t sure when or how he would get furniture, but he planned to camp there tonight. “I’m staying.”

“Oh, yay!” She pulled herself through the trap door and rushed to hug him.

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