Page 27 of Red in Tooth and Claw

Chapter Twenty-seven

No one seriously considered leaving. As much as I wanted to send my friends off, as their lives were precious to me, I knew better than to say it. One look at Dai Lo’s defiant chin and the solid support in Jesse’s eyes, and the words died on my lips.

My suggesting they leave would only make them argue. I had to accept, if only silently, that my life was as precious to them as theirs to me. Same as Will’s. Same as Tallis’s.

And we couldn’t abandon the youngins or Miss Moon, not if they needed us.

I didn’t at any time consider that Dillard needed saving. If I’d had any doubt of his complicity in the manner, that hope chest would have writ it large and the blackout lantern in Tallis’s fist would have underlined it. Miss Honeywell…I wasn’t sure about Miss Honeywell, but I wasn’t as worried about her as I was Miss Moon.

Which meant the only real decision was where to go next—the barn or the chapel.

We chose the barn. Not because we thought HisBen was there, but because we figured that was the last place he would be. But I was hoping we might find some survivors there.

Maybe we were walking into a slaughter, or we’d upset the animals, but we couldn’t avoid it forever, and if HisBen hadn’t heard me and Dai Lo screaming, then I didn’t think he’d hear the farm animals. I also thought, if the critters were still alive, we should take the chance to set them free. There was a good possibility we weren’t coming out of that chapel. The only person in our group that I knew for certain could do any actual fighting was Will. The rest of us had more guts and gumption than skill.

We would face our doom together anyway.

But we’d do our best to take care of the innocents before we did.

The barn had two doors—one that faced the chapel and one that faced the front gate. We picked the door that faced the gate. As we snuck up, I gave Jesse my ax. I’m not sure why I did. It left me without a weapon besides Chirp and my fists, and it made Tallis frown, though he held his tongue. He knew that I needed my friends to have their own weapon.

I also had the feeling that the weapons that would serve me best were Chirp, my friends, and my wits. None of them had let me down yet. I had to hope they wouldn’t let me down now.

We paused outside the barn so I could tell Chirp to hide again. As soon as I did, Tallis stepped up to open the door. It creaked as he opened it. There was nothing we could do about that. Will went in first, with Jesse and Tallis bringing up the rear. Dai Lo needed to be behind Will. If we ran into anyone who needed help, she was the best option, as she knew her way around a wound.

I stepped into the barn, the heady scent of hay, earth, and animal hitting my nose. I didn’t smell any blood, and something in my stomach unclenched. Animals didn’t greet us. I suspected that, though they couldn’t see Chirp, they could still sense a predator and were keeping to themselves.

We spread out, checking the stalls, and it wasn’t long before Tallis gave a soft whistle.

I made it over first and almost sobbed in relief. There was Miss Moon, her hair in a messy night braid, her face dirty and smeared in blood, shoeless and in her nightdress.

All around her, shaking and crying silently, were the youngins.

She let out an uneven breath. “Mr.Kelly?”

“I told you,” I said absently, counting all the little faces in my mind, “it’s only Mr.Kelly when I cause trouble. Otherwise, I prefer Faolan.” Matilda. Ernest. Cora. I matched up names to faces as I counted. They’re all here. Every single one. They were scared, yes. They were terrified, and rightfully so. Banged up some. One little boy was cradling his arm like it was broken. The boys seemed the worse for wear out of the two—some of them would be scarred for the rest of their lives.

But they were alive. They would need care, soon. But they were alive .

We all piled into the stalls, Jesse patting backs and murmuring gentle words, Dai Lo checking wounds and giving her own brand of solace. Tallis, despite being a stranger and a Rover to boot, moved among them with a quiet ease, settling the little ones like they were fractious animals. Before long he had one little girl on his hip as he smoothed a young boy’s hair.

Will ambled into the stall last, his eyes on Miss Moon. He hunkered down, one knee on the floor, and, without a word, opened his arms.

Miss Moon sobbed once, a startling sound, and hurled herself into his embrace. She’d been holding herself together through it all, for the children, and now that he was here, she could let go. Words tumbled from her, though I couldn’t make much sense of them. Something about the children, about one of the children.

It hurt something in me to see her broken like that, reduced to racking sobs, not because she was weak or because I thought less of her, but because, like me, Miss Moon had had such few soft things in her life. Tonight had taken most of them away. All that was left was the children, who were arguably the most important, but also still in danger.

People should get to be soft sometimes. A body should have someone else’s arms to hold them, to catch them every time they needed to fall apart.

Will rested a hand on her hair and let her weep. The kids started to hiccup and sob, but if we let them start wailing, we’d never get out of here.

Will shushed them sweetly. “Now, now, none of that. We’re going to go on an adventure, you hear? You need to be brave, just a little longer. You think you can do that?”

He was met with a chorus of sniffles and nods. They would listen to Will. He’d earned their trust. “Good. I knew I could count on you—all of you. Now we just need to get your leader here ready. You ready, Esther?”

Miss Moon collected herself, sniffling and wiping her eyes. She took a shuddering breath and let it out, squaring her shoulders. “Yes,” she said, her voice cracking. She sucked in another breath, returning to herself more fully. “Yes.”

Will offered her the smallest of smiles, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I knew you would be. Do you know where the hidden door is?”

She shook her head.

Will explained it to her, going over it and the mechanism carefully.

“What about—” she started.

He shook his head. “The only thing you need to worry about is the youngins. Get them out. We’ll handle the rest.”

I grinned at her. “You know me, Miss Moon. I can cause a whole mess of trouble.”

Her expression turned serious. “I can have faith in that. That’s something I can take to the bank, every time.”

“Once you’re out,” Tallis said softly, “we have our horses picketed at the edge of the woods, not far from our camp. When you get there, take one of the older children—the steadiest one you’ve got. Put them on the big bay—her name is Neev. You tell that child to carry a message to the Rovers. Let them know that we need help. The children are going to need a healer.”

“We don’t know where the Rover camp is,” Miss Moon said.

Tallis shook his head. “Neev knows. Just tell her to go home and pat her rump. Not hard, mind. A light tap.”

Miss Moon nodded in understanding.

“Good,” Tallis said. “Neev will get them there. All you’ll need to do is take the little ones to our campsite. Get the fire going. My people will find you from there.”

“Okay,” Miss Moon said. “Okay.”

She stood then, Will following suit, before shaking out her nightdress. She was once again the Miss Moon I knew.

She surprised me by reaching out and tracing the bruises on my face with light fingers. “Why do I feel like I failed you, Faolan?”

I lifted my chin. “No, ma’am, you did not. You kept their bodies and souls together. I cannot tell you how much finding you has meant to me, to us. You just keep it up.”

A rueful smile hit her lips, and I realized she was kind of pretty when she smiled. It lit her up. “You were my charge, too, Faolan. You were my charge, and I don’t think I did enough to keep your body and soul together.”

“You did what you could,” I said adamantly. “And if you want to do more, you get these youngins out safe and sound.”

She drew herself to her full height and stared me square in the eye. “We will talk more after this.” She took in our group. “All of us. You will do me the courtesy of doing everything you can to make that happen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, tipping my hat, meaning every word.

If we died tonight, it wouldn’t be from lack of trying.

The fierce expression on her face withered as she took my hand. “And, Faolan, I didn’t quite succeed. We’re missing one of the children. That’s what I was trying to tell you when you first came in.”

“What?” That couldn’t be. I counted again and swore. She was right. We were missing one. “Which one?”

“Obie,” Miss Moon said softly. “I couldn’t find Obie.”

The youngins didn’t want to leave the animals, but we couldn’t risk it. I had to promise them that we would get the animals when we left.

If we didn’t leave…

Well.

The youngins were paired up, olders with littles, to help make sure everyone made it okay. Tallis went over the directions to the horses again, making sure Miss Moon understood.

We watched them trail away, a silent line of terrified faces, all doing their best to be brave. While they disappeared around the building, we crept to the chapel. There was no back door to the building. There would be no sneaking in. I buried my hand in Chirp’s fur, trying to soothe us both. He bumped me with his shoulder.

“Do we have a plan?” Jesse asked, the ax in his hands.

“No plan,” I said. “Just stay alive.”

Our group approached the chapel. The night was quiet again, hushed, like everything was holding its breath. The whitewashed chapel shone, even with the dim light of the moon, like the beacon it was meant to be. We walked past the bell, the one HisBen liked to ring to call us in, and I wondered what happened to chapel bells when chapels fell. Did they go to new churches? Did the other churching folks think the bells would bring bad luck?

I guess I’d never know.

We stood in front of the tall door, weapons in hand, our faces grim. I took a deep breath, let it out, and nodded. “When you’re ready, gunslinger.”

Will shoved at the doors, but they didn’t open. He shoved hard, and they budged, but only a little. “Something’s blocking the doors.”

“Put your backs into it, I guess,” I said as we all stepped up to set our weight against the doors. They creaked open slowly, the church spilling butter-yellow light onto us. With all that light, it wasn’t long until we saw what was blocking the doors.

It was His Benevolence Gideon Dillard, belly down, his robes ripped, his eyes closed, and his skin pale.

We’d shoved him to the side when we opened the door, smearing blood across the floor.

His blood.