Page 8 of Transfiguration

“She’s fine,” the attendant assured him. “Hands up. It should only take a minute.”

He put his hands out to his side and spread his legs a little so they could run the wand over him. It didn’t beep. But he had never needed to carry a weapon. The woman nodded to him, stepping away, and he headed to the belt to retrieve his bag and the strange child.

When he reached her side, she grabbed his hand, her little pink backpack on her back, and pointed to the familiar golden arches in the distance. “You know that’s junk food, right?” Con asked as he snatched up his own small bag and guided them toward food. He was starving, too. It was not the best option, but he’d eat anyway.

“They have apples in the kid’s meal,” she said.

“Do you want a kid’s meal?” he asked. It was late enough that very few were lingering, but the small line appeared to be moving fast, too.

“Can I have a Double Quarter Pounder with Bacon?”

“Sure.” It seemed strange for a kid to want that sort of thing. “Everything on it? Fries? Soda?”

“Yes, please.” At least she was polite.

Con stepped up to the register and ordered a meal for her, adding a bottle of water for both of them, and three giant spicy chicken sandwiches for him. He paid, and stepped aside to wait for their order, his gaze falling on the little girl at his side. She watched everyone with a wariness that Con knew all too well. He did the same. Sad for a child to have that same cynical view of the world, watching and waiting for someone to attack.

Their order came up, and he grabbed the tray, taking it to the counter to fill his soda cup and grab some ketchup. He handed her the cup. “Pick whatever you want. Do you need ketchup or anything?” He added a handful of packets to the tray, as she stared at the soda machine, finally choosing the sweet fizzy orange stuff that Con hadn’t been able to stomach since he was a kid. To each their own, he figured. He got himself a Coke. Hoping the sugar and caffeine would help him stay awake for the flight, as he’d been awake over forty-eight hours already. She added a few more ketchup packets to the tray.

They found a table off to the side and he sorted out the food, handed over the massive burger and fries to her, and unwrapped his first sandwich. He might have made a little moan with the first bite. He must have been hungry for McDonald’s to taste so fucking good. Luca would freak over him eating this stuff. But Con had a lot of fast food meals when he was working. He didn’t grow up with private chefs and exclusive access to the best restaurants.

She added more ketchup to her sandwich, even stacking a few fries on the messy giant thing before taking her first bite. It looked as big as her head, but she had no problem chomping through half of it before setting it down to munch the fries.

“How old are you?” Con asked.

She eyed him warily.

He took another bite of his sandwich, slamming down the first one while he waited. “Didn’t Kat say you could trust me?”

“Ghosts don’t always tell the truth. Maybe sometimes they don’t know the truth? They are just ghosts, after all. Dead people don’t really know more than live people.”

That was strange but made sense. If a person was a liar in life, they wouldn’t change in death, would they? “You should know I’m into boys,” he said, hoping to ease some of her worries, but she frowned. “I’ve got two guys at home. You’ll love Sam. All kids love Sam. Luca looks like a singer from a boy band, but he’s not unfriendly.”

“You like boys or men?” She clarified.

“Men. Card carrying consenting adult males,” Con affirmed, swallowing hard and feeling the meal turn sour in his stomach. Had they been abusing her in other ways? It was one of his biggest triggers. He didn’t even like kids, mostly, but to force that sort of thing on them… He took a long drink of his Coke, trying to calm himself, glad it was the extra fizzy type that tickled his senses.

“You wouldn’t want to touch anyone who was a little boy?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No. And I love my guys. I don’t touch anyone but them.”

She pursed her lips and looked away. “What if I was a boy?”

Con frowned, confused. “Are you a boy?”

“Not really.”

She looked like a girl. Had wanted girly clothes. Was that because she was afraid to be a boy? Or something more? “Do you want to be a boy or a girl?” Con asked, thinking there had to be someone better at this than him.

“Girl,” she said firmly.

“But not because you’re afraid someone will hurt you if you’re a boy?” Con asked as he finished up his last sandwich.

“No. And I’m almost ten. My birthday is right before Solstice.”

“Okay, then… What about your family? Do you know where they are?”

She looked away again, picking at the last of her fries. That girl could eat. “They didn’t want me.”