Chapter 8

Zoe felt her entire being freeze, her breath rushed out of her chest, and pain filled her. Michael, her Michael had killed her baby. Her older brother, her idol, her sunshine, her happy thought, had killed baby, her Morgan.

A dry sob wracked her frame and she felt her legs shaking, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay upright for much longer. Luke looked at her with worry, and Aspen asked, “Zoe, are you okay? You look as if you’re about to pass out.”

Zoe only shook her head, and sank to her knees as the tears caught up with her sobs and she was on the curb with tears spilling out of her eyes and onto her cheeks. She knew that what Luke had said was true, but her mind refused to believe it. How could he have lied? He hadn’t known that Michael was her older brother.

She shook, but from cold or anger she did not know. She felt arms around her; Luke had picked her up and was carrying her up the packed street. Zoe felt her cheeks burn red with embarrassment at being carried up a street while sobbing by a boy that she constantly wanted to hit. “Shhhh, shhhh. It’ll be okay, you’ll see. We’ll find him, don’t worry,” Luke murmured as he carried her into a drinking den. She continued to shake her head and cried harder.

“What is it Zoe? For goodness sakes tell us, and don’t just sit there crying like a babe,” Aspen said sternly but not unkindly.

Zoe cleared her throat and tried to talk through the haze of tears. “That man, if his name truly was Michael Prosper, he is my older brother, Morgan’s older brother.” Her voice came out as a dry, barely audible croak that Aspen and Luke had to lean in to hear.

Aspen’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “I didn’t know, oh honey. I’m so sorry.”

Zoe looked up and put on a half grin. “Yeah, me too.”

Aspen wrapped Zoe up in a hug, and then they both lost their breath as Luke hugged them both. “Can’t breathe!” they gasped, and he released them, leaving everyone giggling breathlessly.

It made Zoe feel just a little bit better, but the pain and anger and hatred were still there deep down. They were hiding right now, beneath the temporary happiness, but they would resurface viciously as soon as she was trying to sleep.

They were very boisterous for the rest of the time that they were in the drinking den, slightly too boisterous. Zoe could tell that they were just trying to make her forget her sorrow, but that none of them really felt like joking. In the middle of their conversation, a bar maid came up to them and started accosting them for loitering without buying anything. “If yer gonna sit ‘ere on your sarden behind alls the day, then ye migh’ as well buy yer self a tankard o’ ale, or gets out,” She said in her inner city drawl so thick that Zoe had a hard time understanding her. Clearly Aspen understood the girl much better, for she dug around in their meager coin store and paid for ale, and two mulled meads.

“Don’t worry,” Aspen murmured to Zoe. “The ale is for this lug head, the mead’s for us. I don’t like to have a groggy head, and I know that you’d like to keep a clear head as well.”

The maid returned with one heavy wooden tankard of brown ale and two small glasses of honey colored mead. “There ye’s go,” she said as she plopped the drinks down.

Aspen held out three small bronze coins and said, “An extra tip for you mistress, if you can tell me if a man has been through here. He was a scant few inches higher than my head, dark hair, and dark eyes. He probably had two little children with him.”

“Aye, I might’ve, but there’ve been alotta men through this den.”

Aspen glared and added two coins to her pile but managed to keep her voice honeyed. “This man had two small children with him, and they probably looked upset and scared.”

“Was he a child stealer?” the girl’s voice fell to a nervous whisper.

“Yes.”

The girl perked up ad answered more readily now. “Yeah, he went through … maybe a day ago. You catch him, girl. Catch him and kill him. I won’t abide by a child stealer; you do what you can to kill him. None should make their living from taking other people’s little ones.”

“Thank you, mistress. Do you have little ones?” Aspen asked, handing the girl her tip.

“Yes, a little girl, five and beautiful as the sunrise. Those babies, they were yours, weren’t they?”

Aspen’s smile slipped off her face. “Yes.”

“He mentioned going to the local Keepers den to get transport to Midden. That’s all I heard, I hope it helps.”

“It does, mistress, thank you.”

“Goddess goes with you where ever you go,” the woman handed Zoe a small silver circle with an arrow through it, the mother’s symbol. She started to cry.