Rose sighed. That was the end of that. She wouldn't get anything out of Elsie now. She got up to her feet and glanced at Declan, standing to the side while Amy continued to chew her grandmother out.
"Thank you," Rose said. "You didn't have to help us, and you did. I'm grateful."
Declan's face thawed a little. "You're welcome."
Rose walked away. If Elsie didn't know what those things were, perhaps Grandma would. Unfortunately, all the evidence was here. To the left, in the woodshed, an overturned wheelbarrow sat by the log pile. Rose went into the shed, wrestled the wheelbarrow upright, and dragged it to the house. The nearest charred carcass lay only a few feet away. She put the wheelbarrow down and went to pick it up.
She couldn't even lift it, let alone carry it. Rose grasped its disgusting legs - the feet looked almost like ape hands - and put her back into it. The carcass slid across the floor. She dragged it to the wheelbarrow.
Leanne emerged from around the corner. Rose stopped. Leanne walked over. Without a word, she grasped the creature. Magic pulsed in her, and she picked the corpse up and slid it into the wheelbarrow and walked away.
That same talent - five seconds of incredible strength - had made Leanne the school's terror. She could only do it once every twenty minutes or so, but once was usually enough to do the job. Rose never thought she'd see it work for her. I guess there's first time for everything.
They'd never be bosom buddies, Rose reflected, pushing the wheelbarrow up the path to her house. But at least when Leanne decided to stab her in the back, she might hesitate for a second or two.
The house looked undisturbed. Rose maneuvered the wheelbarrow behind Grandpa's shed. He slammed at the walls and hissed, but she just grunted at him. Later she'd wheel the hound corpse to Grandmother's for identification, but now she had to get her spare uniform on and start walking. She ran up the stairs to the porch and knocked on the door.
Georgie opened. "Get ready," she told him, running to the shower. "I'm taking you to Grandma's, and then I'll have to go to work."
GEORGIE sat on the porch steps. His overnight bag lay next to him. He always took the overnight bag just in case. Inside was a book about a boy who lived on the edge of the woods, an InuYasha comic book, spare socks, underwear, a T-shirt, and pants. And his toothbrush. Inside, Jack was banging things, looking for his sneakers. Georgie closed his eyes and pictured Jack's shoes. He felt a slight tug to the left and turned toward it. Not too far. A little more to the left . . . About fifteen feet. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at the kitchen window. Yep. The shoes were under the kitchen table. Jack must've pulled them off while he was eating dinner last night and forgotten about them.
He could go inside and tell Jack where his shoes were. Rose said to get ready quick. She had the look on her face. Georgie knew the look well. When she came out of the shower and saw that Jack didn't have his shoes, she wouldn't be happy. He could save Jack from getting in trouble, but those were new shoes, the second pair of new shoes. They cost a lot of money, and Jack had to learn to take care of them.
It was odd with Jack, Georgie reflected. Sometimes he'd find a piece of green bottle glass and carry it around with him everywhere for days, like it was some great treasure. But something like shoes or clothes, he didn't care about. They were poor. Rose tried to hide it, but Georgie knew they didn't have money. Jack needed to learn not to be wasteful.
Georgie turned his face to the sun and squinted, feeling the warmth on his face. He didn't mind going to Grandma's, and he didn't mind skipping school. Oh no, he didn't mind that at all. Georgie smiled a private smile to himself. School was boring and tedious, and he didn't care for it. He studied and made good grades, because it made Rose happy. Sometimes she talked about him getting a good job in the Broken, if his grades were high enough. Georgie didn't want a job in the Broken. The Broken had no magic.
Staying at home also meant he might get to keep an eye on Declan. It was his job to keep an eye on things. That's what Dad said before he left. He was only six back then, but he remembered. Dad put his hand on his shoulder and said, "You mind the family, Georgie. Keep an eye on your sister and brother for me." He wasn't a baby. He knew Dad didn't really mean it, but he did it all the same because somebody had to do it.
He wasn't sure about Declan. Rose said all bluebloods couldn't be trusted. Rose was often right. When she said someone couldn't be trusted, they usually turned out to be a scumbag. Georgie ducked his head and looked around. He knew he hadn't said the cuss word out loud, but it never hurt to make sure nobody heard him.
So Declan was a bad guy. But Declan had saved Jack. And he didn't seem mean. There were many kinds of mean: mean like Kenny Jo, who was always angry about something. Mostly, Kenny was angry about his dad leaving him. Georgie understood being angry about that, but still, his own dad left, and nobody saw him going around picking fights with people.
Then there was mean like Olie, who was too stupid to know when he was being mean. Olie killed a puppy once because it bit him, smashed her head with a rock. The puppy hadn't known any better. She was just playing. Olie cried afterward, because he felt bad. Georgie heaved another sigh. It took him two days to put the puppy's head back together with his magic, and when he'd raised her, she still didn't look quite right. He'd concentrated on fixing her so hard, he got sick, and then Rose cried.
And then there was mean like Brad Dillon. Brad was cold and vicious. There was something wrong with him.
But Declan had no meanness. Jack thought his swords were awesome. Georgie agreed about the swords, but he'd watched Declan make a ghost of the beasts that had attacked Jack, and in his opinion, that was even better. Georgie held his hand out, closed his eyes, and pretended to call up the beast. Except if he could do it, he'd do it even cooler. Maybe have some dark smoke swirling about him. And his eyes would be shiny. And maybe he'd say some mysterious incantation. Or not. Maybe it would be cooler if he said nothing. And if he had a sword, it would be long and slender. Like Grandpa's blades.
A drop of cold, slippery magic touched the back of his neck and slid down along his spine as if something rotten had splattered him with its nasty juice. Georgie gagged. His eyes snapped open.
A beast stood in front of the house on the path. The color of an old bruise, it stared at him with four slanted gray eyes.
Georgie froze. Jack taught him to never run from animals that could catch him. If he ran, the beast would chase. He didn't know if it could get through the wards to catch him, but he didn't want to find out.
The beast put one paw forward - it was a long ugly paw. Most animals had toes, but this one had fingers tipped with wicked red claws. The paw touched the ward, testing it. A stream of nasty magic slithered toward Georgie. He sensed its hunger: sticky, cold, starved, it wanted to wrap itself around him and suck out his magic. He swallowed. His heart beat so fast, it was trying to jump out of his chest. Don't run. Don't run.