“With your permission, sir, can I get our vehicles undercover somewhere?”
He nods. “The back barn. It’s not locked and should have enough space.”
“Thank you. And how big is your property?”
Gareth frowns for a moment. “We’ve sold everything off apart from seventy acres. The nearest neighbor is two miles away. Logistically, it’s one road in, one road out to get here.”
Hmm, that’s a potential chokepoint.
I raise my voice slightly. “Cosmo, move your car into the barn behind the house.” Cosmo is leaning against the wall looking uncomfortable.
I don’t think children are his thing.
"On it," he replies, without any attitude. This Drakeward is very different to the one I met a few months ago.
“Can you do the same with the van, Max? Have the vehicles parked and ready to peel out.”
Max pushes himself off the floor, depositing the child that had been on his lap onto Donovan’s. As he passes me, I touch his arm. “And run the perimeter, keep your nose out for anything that smells off.”
He gives me a tired grin. “Will do.”
Maximus heads onto the porch then out into the dark.
I turn and watch what’s happening in the kitchen.
Theo is standing by Ludo’s head, her hands on his face. Opal is working on his leg, her hands moving in a blur of stitching and poultices, as her lips recite an ancient healing chant.
“Your friend is in good hands,” Gareth tells me. “He doesn’t need your help, but these children do.”
He’s right. They need to be cleaned up and then tucked somewhere safe to sleep.
I walk into the living room, my boots leaving damp prints on the hardwood. "Donovan?”
He looks up from his pile of scattered cards. “Let’s get the kids cleaned and fed.” I turn back to Willow’s uncle. “Have you any spare beds?"
Gareth nods. "Upstairs. Three bedrooms. They'll have to share, but there’s a linen closet in the hall with extra quilts."
The kids are filthy. “And a bathroom with a tub?"
"End of the hall, left side," Gareth says. "I’ll get the water heater boosted."
Donovan gathers two of the smaller kids, and I scoop up the oldest boy. He’s incredibly light—malnourished even. How long had he been in those cells? Was there a background of trauma and abuse before that as well?
As I head for the bathroom, the sound of chanting from the kitchen grows louder. I catch Theo's eye through the doorway. She looks exhausted.
“OK?” she mouths.
Thinking about what we need to do, I have a moment of doubt. My experience with children is nil. I push the door open and explain about the bathing situation.
Willow immediately steps forward. “I’ll help, Theo needs to stay here.”
The next hour is a blur of domestic triage. Donovan and I act as an assembly line. Once the tub is full, we hand them to Willow. She’s unsurprisingly efficient, scrubbing away the layers of facility dirt with a mother-hen fierceness.
I find myself standing in a small bedroom under the eaves, tucking a thick woolen blanket around a boy who hasn't stopped shivering since we left the Jeep. His eyes track me, wide and unblinking.
“You're safe now," I tell him, praying it’s the truth. The farmhouse, with its homely smells and clutter feels like a haven, but the real world is still out there.
When I finally get downstairs, Max and Cosmo are warming themselves by the fire.
