Hector stiffened, his gaze tracing Nyx’s face as a chilly wind rustled her black fringe. ‘Wasn’t a slum dweller.’ That was ridiculous, but also not entirely wrong. He’d exposed too much of himself today. “What do you mean?” Hector asked, pulling the best look of confusion he could muster.

  Nyx nodded, but she likely didn’t believe him. After all, the girl was most definitely keeping secrets of her own. It wasn’t normal for people to be as quiet as her. Not in the slums, anyway. “Alright, Hector. I’ll take you at your word.”

  At my word? I haven’t even seen you around the slum until the last few months. You’re the more suspicious one.

  Grass scratched against his back as he shifted. Then he frowned and sighed, the frigid air blowing against his cheeks. He needed to figure out a lie and soon, because unlike Nyx, Emela would not be so easily waved away.

  Nyx got back to her feet, giving him one last look before moving back over to the tree. A sharp crack came from Hector’s right, further in the bushes. A moment later, Jodie walked out of the shrubbery with a body clutched in her arms. It was Sasha.

  Hector closed his eyes, feeling the grass brushing against his fingertips. What was the point? She’d died for no reason, and the worst part was that no one aside from those at the dojo and her parents would care.

  Lincoln plodded along behind Jodie, a thin smile on his lips. What was there to be so happy about? They had almost died, and Sasha was dead. The Farmhands had tortured Harry, and what psychological effects would it have on the poor kid? He’d be a wreck.

  Resting Sasha’s corpse on the ground with a soft grunt, Jodie turned to Nyx. “Did anything happen while we were gone?” Nyx jerked her head towards Hector, and he frowned. Now she was quiet again—the girl really was an odd one.

  “Thank the heavens. You’re awake.” The grass crunched softly beneath Jodie’s feet as she stepped over to Hector, rubbing her hands as the icy wind blew through the little clearing. “How are you feeling? How is your back?”

  Her words made the charred and peeling flesh on his back itch as the wounds became all too apparent again. He winced, taking a breath to calm the itching pain. “I’ve been better. A lot better, but I’m not dead, so I can’t complain.”

  Fabric swished as Lincoln moved over and dropped to one knee, with an eager smile on his face. “I was right, Hector; those guys had crates upon crates of resources. We even found their coffers.” Lincoln then let out a sigh. “We had to destroy the crates, though. It was some bad stuff.”

  Jodie scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  Hector raised a brow at her, but the girl simply shook her head. Lincoln was perhaps leaving out some details, but Hector would find out later—Jodie would no doubt make sure of that.

  I’m just glad to see that things between these two haven’t gotten worse. Dealing with that is going to have to be a priority in the future.

  “We can talk more about what we found later. For now, we need to get you and Harry to a healer.” Jodie stepped away, moving over to a tree and bending down. Then she reached into a hole just between the roots and pulled out a small chest made of wood and iron.

  That was most probably the coffers Lincoln had talked about—it was rather small. But Lincoln seemed happy with what they’d found, so Hector had a little hope. Pushing off his knees, Lincoln got to his feet and moved over to Sasha’s body and the dishevelled boy who stood next to her.

  The boy stood there, dressed in ratty-torn clothing, shaking as the wind brushed through his messy hair. Lincoln muttered something to the boy, and he nodded, moving to stand over by Nyx—she barely reacted to his presence.

  Who was he? Another prisoner, perhaps. There was someone who’d called for help when they first entered the cells, but Hector had regrettably forgotten about them.

  “Can you walk?” Jodie asked as she stood over Hector, adjusting the coffers under her arm. “I can carry you.”

  Hector’s neck warmed as images of Jodie cradling him like some princess surfaced in his mind. No, he couldn’t have that. What if someone from the dojo saw him? He’d never be able to live it down.

  Off to the side, Lincoln grunted as he scooped Sasha’s body off the grass, his pants flapping in the wind. The scent of spiked nettles tickled Hector’s nostrils. They’d been able to avoid most of them on the way over, but with the condition of everyone, someone was likely going to get stung.

  Not that it bothered Hector too much; if anything, the pain might be a pleasant distraction from the burns on his back and arms. “I’m fine,” he said to Jodie, as he pushed off the ground. His back immediately exploded in pain, like someone had taken a torch to it. His brow dampened as he shakily got to his feet.

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  A cooling sensation spread through his burns once he was up, as the wind subtly blew across his charred and flaky flesh. It was like dipping your hand in cool water after burning it, only better. He needed some healing mulch or something—that would do wonders.

  “That looks bad, Hector.” Lincoln walked past him, Sasha in his arms, and cringed. “I don’t even know how you are standing right now.”

  I don’t know either, but it’s this or get Princess carried, and my legs feel fine.

  Static no longer thrummed through them, the Talent, having run out long ago. But as he reached into his mind, a powerful sensation grew. It wasn’t ready yet, but it would be soon. He hadn’t been out for that long at all.

  “So where are we going now?” Nyx asked, stepping over. The shaking boy followed behind her. She then dropped to one knee and scooped Harry into her arms before climbing back to her feet. “I trust we’re going to find a healer.”

  “Yeah,” Lincoln nodded. His gaze moved beyond the bushes, and his eyes shifted around as if trying to figure something out. “We should go to my mom’s, but we need to be careful to avoid the patrols. The guards are a little more active at night.”

  Hector shot him a look. That didn’t sound like someone who was just curious about a place. No, he’d been here a few times. Kissing his teeth and turning to the side, Hector moved forward. The gentle hoot of owls played through the air in a soft rhythm.

  There was no point confronting Lincoln about it now. As for the guard problem; he had something that could help with that. A Talent, to be specific. “Alright, I’ll lead us to Lincoln’s mom’s house. I have a way of avoiding the guards.”

  They all gave him a strange look, but in the end, nodded. He’d already exposed a lot today, and as the saying went. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’ He just had to make sure that whatever lie he came up with was actually believable.

  They spent the next few hours pushing through bushes, with minimal stings along the way, and hiding behind trees to avoid guards. There were a few close scares with the boy they’d found in the cells, almost getting them caught, but luckily, Jodie was there to drag him back into the bushes.

  By the time they all made it back to the Sirius quarter, they were exhausted.

  The fight had been one thing. But to spend more time with their nerves pulled tight. That situation wouldn’t be good for anyone.

  Hector wasn’t sure how late it was anymore, but he had a good hunch that the roosters would wake up soon. By then, he’d have another problem. How would he explain to his dad where he’d been all night? After all, for all his dad’s faults, he wasn’t an idiot.

  As they all stumbled up to Lincoln’s front gate, Hector decided that he’d put it at the back of his mind until later. Keeping secrets was becoming a chore, but sadly, a necessary one, if he wanted to keep his family afloat and safe.

  On the bright side, he could tell Mirae about this. While she would be a little peeved, she would still understand his reasoning, and from what Jodie had told him on the way over. It had been worth it in more ways than one.

  Hector rubbed one of the Ham pills in his pocket, his fingers brushing over their cool surface as a sickness welled in his gut. He couldn’t use these, even if the purification Talent could help, and that was a big if. It wouldn’t be right.

  “Alright, my mom should be up. She was on the night shift today,” Lincoln said, watching as the shaky boy braced against the gate, and it squeaked open. The boy probably shouldn’t have been the one to do that, given the strain it had apparently caused him, but he’d been so eager to do his part. Though Hector could hardly blame him—they’d saved his life.

  “Thanks, Griffen.” Lincoln gave the boy a sharp nod as he stepped by him. The boy held the gate open, his chest puffing up a little. Some people really just needed a kind word or two. Scoffing, Jodie shook her head, stepping through the gate, her sandals crunching softly on the dirt. Nyx trailed behind her.

  Hector rolled the Ham pill around his pocket, moving it through his fingers as he considered his options. He’d have to get rid of it somewhere, but it would probably be best to do that when he wasn’t near a healer’s home. It would be especially bad, as Lincoln would be the one who’d have to clean it up.

  He nodded at the boy, Griffen, as he walked past. He had to do it when he was walking back, crush them in a gutter or something.

  The wind blew through his locks as he drew up on Lincoln’s front door with the others. His back spiked with pain now and then, making sure he didn’t forget the charred flesh. Lincoln’s home was like Hector’s in a way; it was a mess of rotting wood and misshapen walls.

  The roof lay awkwardly in places, looking as if it would fall at any minute. It was another miracle of the slum. But there was one major difference. The extension. Running off the side of the house was a smaller, one-story building.

  The ward.

  That was what Lincoln’s mom had affectionately labelled it. It was where she took in her patients and saw to their wounds. She conducted healing operations there, as well as simple consultations for smaller injuries. It was where she made her money and a place many in the slums lost theirs.

  “Alright, I’ll go in first,” Lincoln said, taking a step up the short stairs and moving to the door. But before he could get too close, it swung open, revealing a woman standing there. Her brown eyes narrowed in judgment, and her lips pursed.

  Dressed in blue clothes and wearing a thick white apron on her front, she was the picture of a healer. With brown hair tied up in a bun, and a few loose strands hanging from her fringe. Her eyes lingered on Lincoln before snapping towards everyone else.

  “Ho ho, seems like you’ve all been up to quite a lot tonight,” she said, the wooden boards creaking as she stepped forward. “I hope you lot haven’t brought trouble to my door.” Her gaze moved to Sasha’s body cradled in Lincoln’s hands. “Well, this is going to be a story I won’t like, isn’t it?” Her gaze then wandered between all of them. “If you are going to lie, make it good. Because I don’t know how you’re going to explain this to this girl’s father.”

  “M-mom, I. We.” Lincoln trailed off, the words dying on his tongue. He wouldn’t be of much use in explaining what happened. And if Hector was honest, it was probably better that he didn’t.

  The dirt crunched beneath Hector’s sandals as he took a step forward, the pain of his burns flaring across his back. “Miss Clearwater,” He said with a wince. “You’re right. You won’t like this story, but right now. We need your help.”

  Her eyes moved to his arms, and a small smile came to her lips as if she’d seen a brand new opportunity. “Well, that’s obvious. Though I hope you know, my help isn’t cheap.”