Nothing can rip apart the magic created by two young hearts, not even a demon who can see the future.
Little Pearl awoke with a jolt. Day was beginning to break in the east; thin ribbons of yellow and pale pink wove themselves behind the black bare trees that bordered the field. Beside her, Sweet Mickey lay motionless.
He’s stilling breathing, she realized. That’s God’s gift to me right there.
A heavy gray-green coat had been strewn over them in the night, keeping them warm. It was a man’s coat, and it didn’t smell of musk or work. It smelled of nothing.
Somewhere nearby, Little Pearl heard a fire crackle. Without thinking, she sat straight up to see if the stranger was still there.
He was. Still sitting on a pack, one arm draped across his knee, looking into the fire. He was without a coat this time and had the beginnings of a black beard. The endless black pools that had been his eyes before were gone and replaced with amber irises.
He looked human, Little Pearl thought, almost kind. Not the ghoul he’d been before.
She shifted her body, crackling the dry leaves she’d been laying on.
The stranger turned his attention to her. He didn’t smile, but this time when he gazed at her didn’t feel as afraid.
“Little Pearl,” he spoke. “You’re awake.”
She nodded silently. Sweet Mickey moaned softly in his sleep and Pearl’s eyes darted to his injured leg.
“His ankle is badly broken,” the stranger said. She nodded again. When the boy had jumped from the train, his ankle had snapped and his left foot turned sideways. His pant leg and sock had blossomed with red blood at the cuff, once she had found him in the weeds.
“Listen to me, because the fire is dying,” the stranger whispered. “I wrapped some rags around his leg to stop the bleeding. He might lose his foot. Do you understand?”
Little Pearl said yes and gripped tightly to Sweet Mickey’s arm beneath the big bulky coat. Her underwear was still wet from when she had peed herself. She knew she should ask the stranger to help move Mickey to a road where they could hitch a ride home or to a doctor. But she couldn’t find the words.
“You’re worried about getting him to a doctor,” the stranger understood. “Don’t be. Help will come soon enough and they will take him to a hospital. You both will live long enough to see horrible things and betray each other again and again and again. You will forever follow this boy, this Sweet Mickey. He may have claim to your heart. But remember you belong to me.”
Little Pearl felt her eyes fill with hot tears. “No,” she was barely able to spit out. “I do not belong to you. I belong to my ma and my dad and they will not let you take me.”
The stranger’s eyes softened some. “I forget how young you are. And all the hurt you haven’t even felt yet. You don’t need to worry about me taking you from your mother and father. Because when the day comes that I do take you, you will be happy to see me.”
“And God,” Little Pearl insisted, now mumbling, tears running down her cheeks and on her cracked lips. She belonged to God.
The stranger fell quiet and his gaze turned back to the fire. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were gone, replaced by the black flat pools of nothingness. Frightened, Little Pearl hid her face.
“Go to sleep,” she heard the stranger say. “They will be here soon.”
With those words, Little Pearl felt a blanket of exhaustion fall upon her. Her thoughts slowed, blended into each other. Her body felt heavy like lead. She slowly lifted her head to the fire and found it was gone, as if it had never existed. No wood, no scorched earth or ashes. And the stranger was nowhere in sight.
It took all of her energy to swing one arm over the chest of Sweet Mickey once more before the dark stole her away.