Maybe he could buy the children an iPad. They were young enough that they probably wouldn’t have come into their magic yet. An iPad might survive around them for a few months if they were lucky. They wouldn’t be able to connect to the internet, but he could load it with games and videos.
“If we’re going to the bar, we’ll have to leave the children behind,” Eira said. “They may be part of the case, but they’re too young.”
Clayton stood back up, wincing when his hand brushed against a mysterious wet spot on his trouser leg. “Agreed. Okay, you two, go stay with your parents while I'm gone,” he said absently, his mind already furiously working away at the‘how best not to die while at the bar’part of the plan. He could do it. He could channel his inner Marshall.
Probably.
“We don't stay with our parents.” Merry looked at him steadily. “I take care of us. That's how it's always been.”
Clayton gaped at her. “But you're just children. What are you, seven?”
Merry hesitated before saying, “I’m six.”
“Six?! What happened to your parents?” A familiar pain reared up in Clayton’s head.
It liked to show up whenever he found himself getting overly invested in something. Fortunately, it was no more distracting than the wet, squishy sensation slowly overtaking his left foot, but he’d need to keep an eye on it in case it got any ideas.
“They died. We don't remember anything about them.” Merry caught her brother’s gaze in an odd way before adding, “It's probably for the best that we don’t.”
Before Clayton had a chance to process the odd little exchange, Eira answered his question.
“They showed up here alone about six months ago.” Eira's face was sad. “We get a lot of orphans down here. We feed andclothe them as best we can, but they learn young how to fend for themselves.”
Clayton's face grew hot with anger—probably making him look like a lumpy beet because his complexion wasn’t his best friend. He may have gotten green eyes out of the deal, but being a ginger had its downside.
Clayton chose not to voice his ire at the injustice of children being left to fend for themselves because it wasn’t the time or place, but he was going to have a talk with Samantha about the conditions in Boston Below the next time he saw her.
He turned to Eira and asked, “Will you stay with them?”
“I think you're going to need me, dear. Don't worry, these two are used to being on their own down here.” She patted his arm.
Clayton didn't like it, but short of hiring a nanny, there wasn't much he could do about it. For now. He mentally stabbed a pin directly into the heart of thatfor nowand gave it a stern look to let it know he wouldn’t forget about it, then he relented and allowed Eira to pull him down the battered tracks leading through the center of the shantytown.
Merry
Merry hugged Tommy to her chest as the grown-ups walked away.
“Go on home, you two, shoo!” Gelda swatted at the two children with her broom. “I'd like to keep my inventory intact, thank you.”
Merry turned her body to shelter her brother from the blow. “Come on, Tommy. Let’s find some food.”
Tommy watched Clayton leave with a funny expression on his face. “He seems nice.”
Merry eyeballed Gelda’s broom warily as she answered, “Very nice, but don’t get attached. You know how things are here.” She pulled on her brother’s arm to get him moving.
“I don’t like it here,” Tommy informed her before reluctantly allowing her to drag him out of swatting distance.
“It won’t be forever,” Merry promised. “We have an important job to do first, right?”
Tommy soldiered up, squared his shoulders, and said, “Right!” before immediately crumpling and whispering, “I miss home,”
“Me too, Tommy. Me too.”
Chapter
Three
CLAYTON
