“I keep things discreet-”
“You don’t have to tell me, Mal.” She interrupted in a whisper. “It’s all our little secret.” She grinned.
Mal’s lips were nearly on hers. But it wasn’t a kiss that pressed into her lips. His teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Maeve’s eyes grew wide as she pushed against his chest, ripping her lip free from him. She swallowed as a small laugh escaped her.
Mal smirked.
“Thoughts like that?” Maeve asked.
She suddenly understood Lavinia’s interest in those novels.
Maeve shook her head. But she couldn’t hide from him. The satisfied look on his face told her he knew she enjoyed it.
He gestured his head towards the street. She followed him out of the darkened alleyway.
They were in north London. He turned promptly to the right. The strip of buildings across the road were completely demolished. Some of the buildings facade stood, while its insides had been seemingly carved out. Piles of their remains flooded out onto the sidewalk.
Between two strips of destroyed buildings stood a three story building. Perfectly intact. As though the bombs somehow missed it all together. Maeve looked over her shoulder. No buildings across the street had survived either. The road they crossed was torn to shreds, nothing but broken bricks and piles of dirt.
The building that stood tall and clean had a black iron fence that ran the length of the sidewalk. A matching gate at its center said Finchley Orphanage in fat iron letters.
Maeve stopped. Mal continued towards the gates. A couple carrying bags of produce passed between them, bidding Maeve a good day, but she didn’t hear them.
“You did this,” she stated.
Mal stopped and turned towards her. His fingers wrapped around the bars of the gate. A pulse of magic whipped towards her, shooting into the sky against an invisible wall.
“Mal!”
They looked past the gates, towards the front doors of the orphanage. A boy no more than seven years old was running down the smooth sidewalk towards them.
Tulips lined the pathway, vibrant color in striking opposition to the desecrated and colorless lots on either side of the iron fencing.
Mal smiled.
Maeve’s heart soared.
He pushed open the gate with one hand and stepped inside. Maeve moved closer as the boy reached Mal. He kneeled before him. The boy threw his arms around Mal’s neck. Mal wrapped one hand around his back.
“Jude,” he said.
Jude looked over Mal’s shoulder at her. “Who is that?” He asked.
Mal pulled away from him and stood. “This is my friend Maeve from school.”
Maeve smiled softly at him.
“Are you an orphan too?” Asked Jude.
Maeve’s stomach twisted. “No,” was the only word she could muster.
The boy didn’t look phased. He looked up at Mal. “Mal, two men came here after the bombs a few months ago! They were asking Sister Lilly about you, but it was so funny- they couldn’t get the gate to open.” The boy laughed, his cheeks red. “We were all watching. Sister Lily was able to use the gate just fine and step in and out into the street. But they couldn’t. They weren’t very happy about it, Mal.”
Mal tucked his hands into his pockets and looked at Maeve. “I imagine not.”
Maeve reached out and pressed her hands against the shield of Magic protecting the orphanage. Mal’s Magic. It was like solid steel. Completely impenetrable. She wasn’t stepping inside. No one was. Not even a bomb.
“Sister Lily says it’s a miracle from God that the orphanage was spared when everything around us wasn’t.”
