Page 106 of Break Out the Girl

Love.

Love.

Love.

“Please, Rory.” My voice chokes, tears running down my face. “Please, my love.”

Wump.

Wump, wump.

Wump, wump. Wump, wump.

Aurora’s chest rises as she sucks in a massive breath.

39: FRANCOIS

The Bevan kitchen smells of woodsmoke, damp clothing, and coffee.

I sit on a mismatched wooden chair that creaks precariously under my weight, my hands resting on a scarred tabletop.

Across from me sits Gareth Bevan.

Taliesin’s father looks aged by pain and worry. His legs obviously barely work, and he drags himself around using a walker with worn gray tennis balls on the feet.

“Explain what the fuck happened to my wife,” he growls, slamming a chipped ceramic coffee pot onto the table.

I understand his priority, but every second we waste sitting in this kitchen is an invitation for the guards to catch up with us.

My mind calculates timelines, road barriers, and search parties. We’re sitting ducks. The Bevan family home is such an obvious place for us to be at.

James, or Jim as he is apparently more known, sits with his hands wrapped around a mug. He’s been filling his friend Gareth in with what he knows. His own kidnap when the Director did a sweep to pick up men to become her serfs.

Basil has passed out asleep on the sofa, and Sky is dozing next to Aurora in the back bedroom.

None of that is important right now.

We have to move from here, as soon as Aurora is stable.

“Mom hadn’t shifted before?” Taliesin asks.

Gareth’s hands white-knuckle around the bar of his walking aide. He looks toward the dark kitchen window, where the torrential rain is still lashing against the glass. The storm is howling, pushing cold gusts through the ill-fitting cracked panes. I raise my hands, casting a small barrier spell to keep out the chill. Gareth pauses, looks at me, shakes his head slightly then returns his attention to Taliesin.

“No, son. Neither of us have shifted. Not so many Ashgrave folk have found the ability. But now Opal? Where has she gone? Is she alright?”

“I think she became a Caladrius,” I tell him. “A healer bird. They act as a physical sponge, drawing out illness and disease. The bird absorbs illness into its own tissue.” There’s a draft blowing from under the front door as well, so I send another spell in that direction.

This time Gareth doesn’t pay it any attention. He’s concentrating on what I’ve got to say. “Opal took a bullet for that girl. That’s what you’re saying. What does that mean for her?”

I glance outside into the dark sky. “Lore says the creature must take flight instantly, the altitude can burn the rot out of its blood. She should return healthy, her feathers pure white again.”

“Should,” Taliesin sighs. “But we don’t know. We don’t know anything. I take it there is still no internet out here, Dad?”

“Of course not, son. So I’ll have to trust your posh-friend’s word for it all. But I don’t like it. Who is that girl? And these two?” He looks from Taliesin to gesture at London and me.

I keep my face impassive as the older man inspects my face, obviously critical. I’m not surprised, even in borrowed clothes, I don’t look like I belong in a place like this.

“The girl is Aurora Drakeward,” Taliesin tells him. “And, Dad, I love her. These two are London and François. We were all in Quo together, but the little girl sleeping next to Rory was taken from Quo by traffickers. We escaped to get her back.”