Mal flicked his wrist up and looked at the watch Maeve had given him on his birthday. “Six forty-two in the morning.”
“What year is it?”
Maeve looked to Mal, who remained calm and patient.
“1945.”
Thad shook his head and lifted his hand, like he was going to strike himself, then lowered his hand.
Maeve looked back down at the pictures. There was a picture of Thaddeus, much younger, with a young girl. Maeve blew hard on the frame as more delicate writing appeared.
Thaddeus Gagner, age 14. Mary Gagner, age ten.
Thad moved to the edge of his seat and squinted at Mal.
“You look just like that rat Peur boy my sister Mary was sold to,” said Thaddeus.
Maeve’s eyes shot to Thaddeus. Then to Mal.
“What?” Asked Mal quietly.
Thaddeus pointed at him, his finger shaking and his mouth turning into a scowl. “You the spittin’ image of that filth across the valley.”
Maeve’s heart was roaring to a racing speed. She moved a step towards them.
“You come ‘ere to take more from me family?” Asked Thaddeus, his aggression boiling over. “My sister wasn’t enough?”
“What’s his name?” Mal asked calmly.
So calmly it terrified Maeve.
“What is this man’s name I resemble?”
“I won’t never forget it,” said Thaddeus. “The rats name was Malachite Peur.” Thaddeus spat on the floor.
Fear flooded through Maeve’s mind all the way down to her toes. Mal didn’t move an inch. He stared at Thaddeus with a controlled serenity.
Thaddeus continued. “No, I won’t ever forget it. She thought he hung the damn moon. But after a while he sold her to some Englishman up in London. I never saw her again. She died, that’s what that paper said, giving birth. That was twenty years and some odd change now.” Thad scowled. “You looked about twenty and some change.”
That slither of paper found in Mal’s Mother hand after she died giving birth to him. It was a desperate attempt for his father to be found. Alerted. For Mal to be delivered to safety.
“She wasn’t naming you,” said Maeve quietly. “She was naming your father.”
Mal had already realized it as well. That Thaddeus’ sister was his mother.
“She was a human,” he said. “Your sister?”
Thaddeus’ face contorted. “She was special, but there was nothing wrong with her. I told those mens in fancy suits that too. Just strange things happened sometimes. Things she didn’t mean to do.”
“What men?” Asked Mal.
Thad’s shoulder’s pulled up. “Some pricks from London that came asking about her after she died. Called himself a funny word I ‘ad never heard of.”
“The Orator?”
Thad snapped his fingers and smiled at her. “That the one.”
Maeve shook her head, smiling weakly back at him. She looked back down at the photographs. Mal’s ten-year-old mother smiled up at her.
