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Waev offered Mr. Snix an arm to lean on as they approached the door.
He was a kind, old man. He was one of the first investors to give me my big break. And today he’d come with a warning echoed by Bianca.
Don’t become a workaholic again.
“Where’s Bianca?” a soft voice said.
I turned to find Cleb standing on the stairs, his tiny hand clutching the banister. He was so small and fragile. He’d already been through so much. I needed to protect him from all those who might wish to do him harm.
“What are you doing out of bed?” I said. “You should be resting.”
But his eyes were unyielding.
“I went to her room but she wasn’t there,” he said.
So, the time to have the conversation was already here. I knew it would need to happen at some point but I thought I would have a little more time than this.
I’d thought long and hard about what I would say. The words would taste like ash in my mouth but I had to do what was best for Cleb.
This is how I thought the conversation would go:
“I’m afraid she had to leave,” I would say.
“On a new mission?” he would ask, or words to that effect. “Will she come back?”
And then I would reply with: “Maybe. It depends on her next mission. The bad guys got too close this time. Now she needs to be very careful.”
Bianca had laid the foundation for the web of lies. I didn’t want him to have a sour memory of her, despite what she had done. I felt terrible I needed to add to them but they were what he already believed. If I was to strip it from him and then add that I had sent her away…
The damage might be permanent. There was little chance he would see her again. At least this way he might grow into a healthy young boy. He didn’t need this, not when he was so young, so fragile after his recent ordeal.
And one day, when he was a little older, I could tell him the truth. That she was never a spy. That she lied to protect herself.
I helped him down the stairs.
“Let’s go into the front room,” I said.
We walked side-by-side, my stomach churning as the sofa loomed up. He hopped onto it. I sat beside him.
Not so long ago, I would have sat on the sofa opposite, treating our time as more of a business meeting than a private discussion between boy and godfather.
I placed my hand on his narrow shoulders and offered him the best smile I could manage. I took a deep breath and began to roll through my rehearsed script.
“I’m afraid she had to leave,” I said.
Cleb tore his eyes from mine and stared at the floor between his feet. I could see the thoughts passing across his face. Any second, he would ask if she would come back.
Finally, he looked up at me.
“She was never a spy, was she?” he said.
And just like that, he blew all my preparations out the window.
“I… Uh… What makes you think that?” I said carefully.
Cleb shrugged his shoulders.
“I just sensed it, I guess,” he said. “And she knew the man who took us, didn’t she?”
