To her befuddlement, Arrow children gravitated toward her just like little Jojo had done in RainFire; they wanted to be around her when she was near. So she took care of them in her pragmatic and deeply honest fashion. Aden thought the children saw the same thing he did—that Zaira’s heart was as pure as theirs.
“Here,” he said, reaching down to clip the strap under Carolina’s chin.
She frowned at him, her conditioning having clearly been nascent at best when Silence fell and the training protocols were changed to teach psychic and emotional discipline without erasing or sacrificing the ability to experience emotions.
“Where’s your helmet?” she asked suddenly.
Aden had taken it off earlier, now put it back on. “You’re right. I should wear it.”
Nodding, she continued to stare at him, a child of approximately six with lines between her eyebrows.
“Is there something you need, Carolina?”
Her smile was glorious. “You know my name!”
“Zaira told me.”
“I like Zaira. She’s not mean.” Smile fading, Carolina continued to stare at him.
He hunkered down in front of her so she didn’t have to crane her neck. “What is it?” he asked, certain she wanted something.
She shuffled closer and beckoned him with one hand. When he placed his ear next to her mouth, she whispered, “Can I have a hug, too?”
It felt like a kick to the heart, the shakily spoken words. Closing one arm around her, he rose to his feet, her weight so light, so fragile that he couldn’t wrap his mind around how anyone could’ve ever imagined that torturing a child was an acceptable thing. “You can have a hug anytime you want.”
Eyes bright and wet, she locked thin, dirt-streaked arms tight around his neck. Placing his free hand against her back to hold her to him, this tiny girl with her breakable bones and her breakable heart, he saw that Zaira and Ivy had both stopped working to look his way.
Ivy’s mind touched his. Just hold her, Aden. She’ll be okay.
Following her advice, he decided to walk around and inspect the other homes in progress. His men and women took in his small burden but didn’t comment, instead giving him short updates on their particular projects. Slowly, Carolina raised her head from his tear-wet neck and started to look around.
When Cris said, “Come here, Caro. You can help sweep the floor clear of the building dust,” the little girl let Cris pull her gently from Aden’s hold and put her on her feet.
Wiping Carolina’s face with a cloth she’d found from somewhere, Cris gave the child a small brush and a dustpan and led her into the newly finished home. I’ll watch over her, Aden. Zaira says you’ll have more company soon.
Cris was right.
Two minutes after he returned to his position working beside Vasic, he found himself talking to a thirteen-year-old boy who didn’t make physical contact, but who stayed with him for over an hour while younger children came by and tugged on his hand or simply raised their arms. The older teens kept their distance but they looked on, taking in the changes in the squad.
It didn’t surprise him in the least when some of the children went straight to Vasic, Cris, and the others, including a Zaira who didn’t blink an eye at being asked for affectionate contact. Watching her seat a little boy in her lap while she showed him a blooming flower, he realized she’d changed on a far deeper level than he’d understood.
This Zaira wouldn’t only take care of a child’s practical needs, wouldn’t only protect. She’d make sure his or her spirit was also nurtured. It’s not so hard, she said to him out of the blue. They don’t lie and hide what they need and I can follow instructions and requests.
Aden felt a smile curve his lips. He didn’t hide it, didn’t show his men and women and the children an impassive face. Except when the instructions are given by me.
Of course. You need to be challenged on a daily basis.
Tiny, soft fingers touched his lips in wonder, the child he currently held starting to smile, too. As with Carolina, tears streaked many of the small faces in the valley that day, but smiles soon took them over, hope an incandescent and innocent flame in their eyes. And as the children attached themselves to certain Arrows for reasons of their own—including more than one surprising choice—that flame started to flicker in spurts and startled sparks in the eyes of adult Arrows, too.
It felt as if the entire valley was coming awake.
He looked toward Zaira. Your courage started this. She’d come to him in front of everyone, exposing her need, and in so doing, showed the children it was all right. Your fire lives in them now.
Her mind swirled around his, as if in a psychic kiss.
Chapter 67
THEY HAD TURNED him into prey.
Sweating, his heart thudding, Blake hid in the narrow space behind an overflowing Dumpster. The stench made his stomach churn, the physical response a reminder of how badly he’d fallen. How badly they’d made him fall. They’d made him an animal scrabbling for scraps and a place to rest.
The hunger to kill was furious in him now, his blood boiling.
Worse was the physical gnawing in his gut that urged him to look in the trash for food.
No. He would not stoop to that. Especially not when he had a better option.
It was time to call in his marker.
Waiting until Amin’s team had passed, missing his shielded mind by mere inches at most, he pulled out his phone and called his contact. “I need an extraction.” It was then that he realized not all of the stink was from the Dumpster; he was filthy.
The person on the other end took time to reply. “Who is this?”