Free Out of the Dark (Light & Dark #1) by Claire C Riley Page B

and shaky, but her meaning is clear: Is it free of monsters? Will she be okay to sleep with us guarding her? Will we, in fact, guard her at all? I think about all these unspoken questions, deciding for myself what I will do before I speak, before I voice my answer to this stranger.
    “It’s been safe so far,” I reply calmly. “You can sleep. I’ll wake you for supper.”
    A small smile plays on her lips, not quite giving itself over to a full-mouthed expression of happiness, but close enough. She nods and closes her eyes, and I turn to leave.
    “Thank you,” she whispers to my retreating back.
    I don’t bother to reply. Her thanks isn’t needed. Her leaving here tomorrow is what I want. Downstairs, Lilly is exactly where I left her: on the stool by the breakfast bar. She’s waiting patiently, scared of strangers but also excited for new company, new interactions. She looks up when I come in, her eyes dancing with eagerness. She waits patiently as I make my way to her, reaching over to hug me when I get within distance. I take her hug, hungry for its warmth, the reassurance that it provides, and I kiss the top of her head.
    “She’s sleeping,” I murmur against her hair.
    “Is she bad?” she whispers back.
    “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
    Silence falls around us, but I know that Lilly is still thinking about what I said. She may be a child, but her brain is more accustomed to this world, to the decisions that a person must make in order to survive. Yet she is much more understanding and forgiving than me.
    “She has to leave tomorrow. We’ll give her some food and send her on her way.”
    Silence…
    “You understand, don’t you?”
    “Yes, Mama,” she replies. “You want to keep me safe.”
    I pull out of our hug and look down into her pretty face, her large eyes looking up at me unblinking. Like twin pools of darkness, her brown eyes suck me in, absorbing me until I feel lost. I cup her cheeks in my cold hands, finding strength in her as I always do.
    “I have to keep you safe,” I croon, hoping that she will understand.
    “Okay,” she replies.
    I let go of her face and look across at the blood on the floor. “I need to clean this up. I’m sorry that you had to see it.” I gesture to the mess, but I know that she has seen much worse than this. Yet somehow this seems almost as bad. Because she was beginning to soften here, her walls coming down. She was settling, and was almost at peace, but I can feel it now, the iciness in the air. This woman, her blood, they have invaded Lilly’s space, and she is lost again. And that makes me feel bitter resentment toward this woman. Intruding on our lives. Of course it wasn’t by her choice, but I don’t care.
    I gather some large towels and wipe the blood away as best as I can. It takes a long time—some of it has already started to dry—and when I stand back up and look along the hallway, I see that the floor still looks stained by the blood. But it’s the best I can do. My back aches as I gather the bloody towels and place them in a clothes hamper in one of the bedrooms, and before I come back down the stairs, I check on Sarah.
    She’s sleeping soundly, soft snores only punctuated by the occasional murmur. I click the door closed quietly and contemplate putting a chair under the handle just in case she is dangerous, but at the last minute I decide against it. I can protect Lilly and myself from this woman—of that I am sure.
    I clean my hands with some of the hand soap in the downstairs bathroom and stale water from the toilet cistern, watching mesmerized as the bloody water swirls away. There isn’t very much left in there, just enough to cup in my hands. I realize that neither of us have eaten since breakfast, and since our bodies have quickly gotten used to three meals a day since arriving here, I feel desperately hungry and presume that Lilly will feel the same way.
    The day is nearly over, and night will be falling soon. I hurry to