Rose added another bowl, poured the milk, and distributed the food. Georgie crawled into the chair next to Declan and poked at his Mini-Wheats with a spoon.
"Thank you for the meal," Declan said, picking up his own spoon.
"Thank you for the meal," Georgie echoed. Well, at least one good thing came from the blueblood being here: Georgie said thank you without being reminded.
Georgie looked at Declan, probably waiting for a clue to his next move. She understood why. Something about Declan telegraphed "man." It wasn't his face, although he was heart stoppingly handsome, if grim. He had a great build and he carried himself well, but that wasn't quite it either. It wasn't his swords, or his cloak, or his leathers. It was something unidentifiable, something in his eyes or in the air he projected, something she couldn't quite pin down.
For lack of a better word, Declan radiated masculinity. The "depend on him in a dark alley" kind of masculinity. The "hit the bad guy with a chair before he shoots us" kind of masculinity. If they were attacked, he wouldn't hesitate to put himself between them and the danger, because that's what men did. The boys didn't stand a chance.
Under different circumstances, she might not have stood a chance either. But experience had taught her very well: bluebloods were to be feared and avoided. All that rock-steady manliness could be an elaborate act. She had to watch her every step.
Declan put a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Georgie hesitated. Getting him to eat was an ordeal lately. He was hungry all the time but ate like a bird, a bite here, a bite there. And if he didn't eat enough, he got shaky.
Declan chewed, scooped more cereal into his spoon, put it into his mouth, and glanced at Georgie. Georgie fidgeted under the pressure of those green eyes, picked up his own spoon again, and started eating.
"Georgie, you're staying with Grandma today," she said.
"Why?"
"It's not safe to walk to the bus stop or back up from it."
Declan paused. "You're going to work? Shouldn't their safety be your first responsibility?"
"I know my responsibilities well, thank you very much. I don't work, we don't eat. It's that simple."
They chewed their food. She glanced at Declan. He ate quietly, enjoying his meal. He caught her looking.
"It's quite good, thank you."
He had to be used to much better. He was probably just being polite. "You're welcome," she murmured.
Georgie stirred in his seat, glancing at her. "Jack said you smelled like William yesterday."
"Georgie!"
Too late. A predatory light sparked in Declan's eyes. The blueblood came to life like a shark sensing a drop of blood. "Who's William?"
"None of your business," Rose snapped.
"He's a guy. He likes action figures," Georgie said helpfully. "He asked Rose on a date, but she didn't go."
"Does your sister go on dates often?"
"Every week," Rose said.
"Never," Georgie declared at the same time. "It's because Brad Dillon tried to kidnap her on their last date."
She stared at him. How did he know that?
"MEmEre told me. Brad hit her on the head with a club, and she fried him with her flash. Jack and I liked William okay. But Brad is a scumba - "
"George." Rose loaded her voice with steel. "Go brush your teeth and wake up your brother."
He slid off the chair and took off.
Declan leaned forward, his features iced over. "This William. What does he look like?"
"Shockingly handsome," Rose told him.
"That covers a lot of ground."
"You don't need to know what he looks like!"
"Of course I do. If I meet him, I'll have to discourage him from courting you. You don't want me to assault some random stranger, do you?"
She took her bowl to the sink.
"Rose," he called. "This is important. What does William look like?"
Rose rinsed out her bowl, glanced up to the window, and saw Leanne Ogletree on the path to her house, striding forward in a determined fashion. A worried expression pinched Leanne's face into a pale mask. If a big pink elephant with rainbow wings had appeared at the end of the path, Rose would've been less surprised. The words died on her lips. Now what?
Declan came to stand by her. "Who is that?"
"The former bane of my existence. Stay inside, please."
Rose braced herself and stepped out onto the porch.
Leanne walked up to the steps. She was a thin, narrow-hipped woman, who seemed to consist entirely of sharp angles: sharp elbows, prominent knees, defined face, and a stare, which, as Rose knew from experience, could slice like a knife. They hadn't spoken a word to each other for the last four years. Rose kept to herself, and Leanne wasn't a social butterfly either, not since Sarah Walton married and moved away. The few times they had run into each other in public, they'd silently conspired to ignore each other's presence.
It was damned hard to ignore somebody who was standing right there by the porch.
"Morning, Leanne." Rose kept her tone civil.
"Morning."
Leanne's face was pale, and in her blue eyes, Rose glimpsed a small echo of fear.
There were a dozen things Rose could say - about Sarah, who now refused to recognize Leanne; about Leanne's husband, Beau Ogletree, who had taken off to adventures unknown; about Leanne's dad, who just last Sunday got so hammered he puked his guts out right on the steps of the church, scandalizing all local Edger Christians forever. But Leanne stood there, with that fear in her eyes, and Rose let it go.
"What's wrong?" she asked simply.
"It's Kenny Jo. We went to visit Amy Haire to help with her grandma Elsie. You know her."
"Elsie Moore? With the tea parties?"
"Yeah. She shut herself in her room and won't come out. She'd tied herself to her rocker, and when Amy and I tried to move her, she scratched Amy bloody. So I called Kenny Jo to come undo the knots while we held her down. He got into the room and started screaming. I tried to take him out of the room, but something ripped his clothes. It clawed the T-shirt right off of him and scratched his chest. Elsie says we can't see it because it's hiding and our magic isn't strong enough. But Kenny Jo sees it."
"Why come to me?" Rose asked.
"He was screaming your name." Leanne swallowed and said in a hoarse voice, "Look, I know I made your life hell in high school. But it's my kid in there. Please help me save my boy."
"You can't see anything outside of the room?"