Fairchild's 7 Daughters-The 12: Book One

22. Should old aquiantance be forgot

"Watch what you say."

"What? The truth? You seduce this woman away from her husband, leave said husband to die from madness then never speak to his widow again. Now she's back in your life as fine as a resurrection rose...and all this time Old Kincaid has never married."

Kincaid turned his back and walked away. "You're starting to sound like my brother. Preach, preach, preach."

Benedict shoved his hands into his pocket. No one could ever tell Kincaid anything. He knew if he pushed him too much that the eggshell he was would crack and the dragon inside would be released. With an aggravated sigh he picked up the frozen girl and carried her over to the shed behind Kincaid.

The latter took a seat on an overturned bucket while Benedict laid the girl on the floor before him near the furled sail of an old schooner. He looked down at her shivering limbs and tossed her a thin blanket as he always did. The child looked like a cadaver drawn from the grave who had touched the bones of Elijah and was now experiencing the shock of life again. He stole a glance at Kincaid who sat casually as if not a part of the cold world around him then walked out of the shed with a backwards glance over his shoulder.

Kincaid had seen death before. This girl was nearing that moment. Kincaid was superstitious. Each time someone was nearing the moment he'd watch and wait. He waited for Death to come and claim them as the old folk singers often sang it happened. He waited for the darkly cloaked figure to arrive and snatch the last breath out of the mortal that had summoned him with their dying gasp. But he was always disappointed. The keepers of the grave sooner came than he, circling the sky in a sad circle over the earth. Kincaid waited once more as he watched the listless girl.

He sang a homespun melody as the curious winter chill blew though the gapped walls of the shed. "He's near to you now, little one," he said then got up from the stool. He crotched down over Astrid and put his lips near her ear. "When they asked who killed you, tell them it was Wendigo."

Astrid knew what came next but she wasn't conscious for it. The man would drink or smoke or both until she stopped moving. If she was alive, and so far she always had been, he would return the next day and start all over again.

/

Her eyes flickered open to the dull light streaming through the rickety roof of the shed. The faint scratch on the timber told her it was snowing again. Slowly she regained control of her splayed body as it became aware of the frigid environment. She groaned as she propped herself up on trembling arms. With concentrated effort she got to her feet and stumbled her way over to a beam, hugging it for support.

She had never been strong and certainly never considered herself brave. She felt she strongly lacked all the good qualities her sisters possessed. Her sisters. "Heloise." She felt the icy tears fill her eyes and roll heavily down her face. "Alifair, Hannah." Dead how oh how could they be dead. It was these people who had done it, they and theirs had killed them. Mrs. Murphy among them...no one could be trusted.

It was this that brought a change over Astrid. If all humans are born with a sense of justice then hers had been strongly awakened. In that moment when death seemed welcomed she was filled with a new surge of life.

The salt taste of the Carolina sore was heavy in the air as she heaved herself out of the shed and into the hard cold winter. Staggering in the white ground cover she made her way over to the boathouse. There was not a man in sight and she somehow remembered today was Wednesday and New Year's Eve. She must have heard someone say it which meant that most had probably gone to enjoy the spoils of whatever earning they had acquired that week. All but one at least.