Theo grabbed the knife and spun toward the two girls. Now that he was paying attention, he realized that they were almost identical. They must be twins, although one looked slightly smaller and more delicate. They both had matted dark brown hair to their waists. Their smocks were dirty and their feet bare. They must be freezing, he realized as the smaller one shivered. Her sister wrapped her arms around her as much as was possible considering her wrists were still bound with the strange, flowered rope.
Theo reached for one of the saddle blankets. It smelled strongly of horse sweat, but it would be warm. He watched as the taller child drew back, grasping her sister protectively. Her sister watched him, she didn’t seem afraid considering she’d just watched him kill a man with his bare hands.
“Here, take this,” Theo said, his voice gentle. “You must be cold.” He held the blanket out to them waiting patiently until a tiny, dirty hand finally reached out and grasped the coarse material. With a silent nod of approval, Theo moved away and returned a moment later with a pitcher of water, a tin cup, and an item wrapped in muslin.
He filled the cup and held it out to the taller girl first, watching as she hesitated but thirst won out as she took a deep sip and passed the cup to her sister. Theo unwrapped the bundle. It contained a chunk of thick, dark bread and some cheese that he broke in half and gave to each of the girls.
“There isn’t much time,” he told them hurriedly. “Others will come.”
“What’s your name?” the smallest girl asked in a clear voice as she grasped the food in her dirty fist.
“Theodore Beckett,” he said, his voice gentle.
“Hess,” the other girl hissed. “Don’t talk to him, he’s one of them.”
“It’s alright, Bridey.” She touched her sister’s hand and something unspoken passed between them. “My name is Hester.” She turned back to Theo. “This is my sister, Bridget.”
“Do you know why you were brought here?” Theo asked.
Hester shook her head. “They came to our home,” she told him, her eyes filled with pain. “They hurt our mother.”
Bridget’s mouth tightened into a thin line as she watched her sister.
“Where is your mother now?”
“Dead,” Bridget replied unable to mask the bitterness.
“Was she accused of Witchcraft?” Theo asked, trying to understand the course of events that had led him to take a man’s life.
“No.” Hester shook her head again. “The man with black eyes, the one they call Nathaniel Boothe, he was asking her questions. There was something he wanted, and he thought she had it.”
“What did he want?” Theo frowned.
Hester’s stared as if studying him. “He was looking for something called Infernum,” she finally said in a quiet voice.
“Infernum.” Theo’s eyes snapped to hers at the word that had echoed throughout his dreams for most of his life. “Do you know where it is? Do you know what it is?”
Bridget squeezed Hester’s arm so tightly that she hissed. Frowning at her sister before her gaze once again met Theo’s and she shook her head in answer to his question.
Theo stood and backed away, crossing the barn back to the bale where he’d sat earlier. He needed to think… He glanced down at his journal resting atop the bale.
Theo stared down at the knife in his clenched fist as the girls spoke in hushed tones behind him. They didn’t have long before Logan and Nathaniel arrived. There was no way to hide what he’d done to Stephen, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
He drew in a shaky breath. It was no small thing taking a man’s life, even if he had deserved it, but he couldn’t dwell on it, not now. Maybe in some way saving the children would make up for it, but he doubted it.
He glanced back at the girls huddled together. They were so young, younger than he’d been when he’d lost his own mother, and now, they’d have to make their way in the world alone. There was no other way. They would have to run, and he would have to stay behind to deal with Nathaniel and, worse, his brother.
He crossed back toward the girls, who both looked up at his approach. Bridget’s eyes once again held a kind of wariness while Hester looked at him as if he were a riddle she was trying to figure out.
“Come,” he urged and dropped to his knees beside them on the straw-littered ground. “There is not much time before my brother is expected.”
Bridget flinched when he lifted the knife, the blade glinting in the lamplight.
“Do not fear me.” He reached for her hands. “I will not harm you.”
Bridget watched, her tiny face filled with suspicion, as he cut the binding at her wrists. She winced as the blood flowed back into her hands, rubbing the tender and raw skin.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked her brow furrowed in confusion.
