“Holy hell,” Brock cursed from the other side of the room. “It’s a little kid.”
Darion frowned at the terrified-looking boy. He was Breed, probably around five or six years old. His strawberry-blond hair drooped into his face, matted and tangled. His cheeks were sallow, his big brown eyes ringed with dark circles.
“Come on out of there,” Darion said, holstering his pistol. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
The boy crawled out of the cubbyhole, his movements stiff and weak. His thin shoulders hunched forward, accentuating his emaciated appearance. He wobbled unsteadily on his feet, licking parched, cracked lips.
Brock approached and dropped into a crouch in front of the boy. “What’s your name, son?”
“Caleb.”
“Do you know where your parents are?”
He lifted his gaze to Brock’s and tears started to well. “My dad got really sick. He hurt my mom real bad with his fangs. She wouldn’t wake up. He ran away then. I ran down here and hid because I was afraid he was gonna come back and hurt me too.”
Darion felt a tendon pulse in his jaw as he listened to the child explain his father’s descent into Bloodlust. “How long ago was that, Caleb?”
A weak shrug. “I’m not sure.”
Brock’s concerned gaze swung to Darion. “From his condition, I’d say he’s been in there for close to a week. He’s practically starving.”
“Shit.” Darion glanced at Tegan and his other comrades. “We can’t leave him here.”
Nathan shook his head, a response echoed by the rest of the warriors.
“First thing he needs is nourishment,” Brock said.
Darion nodded. “There’s a place in Georgetown.”
“I know the one,” Jax said. Most unmated Breed vampires were familiar with the parlors that employed willing human blood Hosts. Since the Rogue trouble started and curfews were put in place, few of the reputable parlors remained open now. “The owner’s a friend. She’ll make an exception for this.”
Darion could see that despite Caleb’s fear, he trusted Brock. The kid had no place with the Order, but it didn’t appear he had anywhere else to go.
“Brock, take the boy and go with Jax. After he’s fed, bring him to headquarters. Find somewhere there for him to stay until we can figure out what to do with him.”
The big warrior carefully steered the child away from the worst of the carnage in the Darkhaven as the group exited the house.
Darion’s gaze snagged on the fireplace photos as he passed, noting that the smiling face of Caleb’s father looked undeniably familiar. It was the same face that belonged to the Rogue who’d been ashed in the basement only moments before they found the boy.
With a low curse, he stepped around one of the dead humans and headed for the bracing chill of the night air outside.
CHAPTER 11
The kid had barely uttered a word between the time Brock and Jax had driven him to the blood Host parlor in Georgetown and the ride back to the Order’s headquarters afterward.
As Jax paused at the compound’s gate, Brock pivoted to look at Caleb in the backseat of the Order’s SUV. “You doin’ okay?”
A shallow nod. The boy didn’t look at him. He stared out the dark-tinted windows at the spacious grounds and the large mansion that practically glowed under the moonlight overhead.
“What is this place?” he finally murmured.
“This is the Order’s compound. It’s where we all live and work together.”
Caleb glanced at him. “You mean it’s your family’s Darkhaven?”
Brock nodded. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
It seemed a little strange to call the command center with its weapons room and tech lab by the name typically applied to civilian Breed homes. Then again, Brock knew of few families who were closer-knit than he and his warrior brethren and their mates.
