Page 109 of Prodigal Son

“I hope they deserved it,” Cain joked.

She flashed her teeth, snarling, and prowled, overly agitated tonight.

He stayed with her for several hours, mostly blathering on about how pointless his life had become. “Jonas is back. You remember Jonas, right?”

Chin down, her glare followed his fingers as he used a pocket knife to slowly carve an apple into thin slices. She’d lost a lot of weight in addition to going through a growth spurt. He tried to slip her food whenever possible, but she wasn’t always responsive to his offers. Sometimes she was downright dismissive, meaning she spit and hurled objects until he left her alone.

“My mother, Abilene, is as big as a house with child. I think this one’s going to make it.” Pinching a thin slice of apple between the blade and his thumb, he slipped it into his mouth. “She’s miscarried more babes than I can count.”

He cut another slice and paused, silently offering it to her by not saying a word. She edged closer to the bar and leaned her head into the iron. Pinching the slice between his fingers and thumb, he stretched closer and held out the piece of apple.

Cybil snatched the fruit and raced to the far corner of the cell and ate it. He hid a smile.

“Larissa’s little one is expected any day. That should tie up the bishop for a while. I suppose that might be somewhat of a relief to you.”

She returned to the bars and he offered another slice which she took. She was hungry, but it seemed her pride was of greater value and if she had to choose between the two, she’d starve for self-preservation. He didn’t need a blood test to glean that bit of knowledge. At least he’d restored enough of her trust to ensure she could take food from him instead of hurling it like a weapon as she did with the other caregivers.

Once the apple was gone, Cain put the knife away. Cybil kept her distance, lurking mostly in the shadows deep within the hollow of her cell.

She no longer signed, and for as much as he’d initially opposed Grace teaching her such a skill, he now missed it. In a way, communicating with her through hand gestures was almost as satisfying as hearing her voice.

He recalled how the others spoke in the woods. Their banshee like cadence was by no means comforting, but it proved her kind could speak if the compulsion was there.

“Cybil?” She looked up the instant he called her name. “Do you miss talking?”

She watched him through narrow, ruby eyes.

“If you used your voice, they might eventually let you out of here.” That was a stretch, but anything was possible. “You would have to show them that you can be civilized and control your impulses. Speaking would help them understand your intentions.”

She continued to glare, but he forced himself not to look away, meeting her challenging gaze with one of his own.

“Come on, Cybil, say something. One word. It could be anything.”

Her jaw twitched and her nostrils flared. She didn’t like this game.

“Please?” He signed. “The least you could do is say my name.”

At that, her head lifted and something resembling fear flashed in her eyes. Her shoulders drew back, and she shuffled deeper into the shadows.

“What did I say?” he murmured, giving up.

Rising from the floor, he brushed the dust off his pants. Mud caked the soles of his boots. No point in kicking it off when it was going to be a soggy trek home.

“Same time tomorrow night?”

She looked back at him, her brow tight with confusion when she typically showed no concern over his departure. Maybe pushing her to speak had upset her in some way.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He wanted to say sleep well, but she slept about as well as he did these past few months.

On the way out he heard approaching footsteps and blocked his mind. With a sniff, he recognized Dane approaching. “You’re here late.”

Startled, Dane’s downcast stare jerked up. “I…didn’t realize anyone was down here. I couldn’t sleep.” He brushed a hand over his rain-soaked hair. “How is she?”

“Calmer than usual. A little anxious. I asked her to talk and that seemed to upset her. Maybe you can figure out if there’s anything more to it.”

He shook his head. “Yeah right. I gave up on hearing her voice long before the accident. I haven’t been able to make any sense of her thoughts either. It’s all very dark and confusing. Each day the impressions get harder and harder to see.”

That meant she was losing her innocence. Dane had an incredible gift to see young people’s thoughts. He couldn’t hear them, like Gracie could, but he gleaned impressions from open minds, mostly from children.

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