The Child Thief

didn’t answer, just gave him a sour look. The Captain decided it best to stand. After all, it was good to have the feel of the sea under his feet once more.

“Pardon me, madam,” he began. “Do—”

“You think you could tell those damn fools to shut the door?” she said gruffly and tugged her afghan tighter around her.

The Captain followed her glare to where the Reverend and most of the men stood crammed out on the front deck, crowded so tight that they’d wedged the wide double doors open, allowing a strong, biting wind to blow through the cabin.

“You’d think they’d never been on a boat before,” the woman huffed. She leaned forward, squinting through her tortoiseshell glasses, the thick lenses distorting her eyes, swallowing up her whole face, making her look to the Captain like some dour insect. “Sure are a peculiar lot.”

The Captain had to agree, they were indeed a peculiar lot, pointing and cooing at the city like a bunch of pigeons, or wandering about gawking at the lights, prodding and caressing the seats, windows, and every shiny surface.

“Madam, if you don’t mind, would you enlighten me as to the year?”

The woman sniffed loudly, then wrinkled her nose. “Good Lord, is that you?” She leaned away from the Captain. “You smell worse than a sack of sardines.”

This brought a smile to the Captain. “The year, madam?”

“Are you asking me what year it is? Good gracious, have you been living in a hole or something?”

“Of sorts.”

“It’s 2005. No wait, 2006. It’s 2006.”

The Captain winced. “Of the year of the Lord?”

“Why yes, I’m certain. And you know how old that makes me? Ninety-two. You’d never guess by looking at me, would you? You wanna know how I stay so sharp, keep my figure? I walk every goddamn day. While those other old biddies are sitting around on their fat tushes, I’m putting in my two miles. Rain or shine. I’ve already outlived two husbands. You want to know what else?”

The old woman prattled on, but the Captain was no longer hearing her. Over three hundred years. He needed to sit down after all. How had three centuries slipped away? He’d often considered that time moved differently there in purgatory, but had clung to the belief that out here, in the real world, time was on hold. But time had not waited. His children, his grandchildren, even their children’s children’s children would be long in the grave. There was no one to return to. No home for him anywhere. What was left for him?

Someone was nudging him.

“What the hell’s he carrying on about so?” the woman in the afghan asked.

The Captain blinked, he’d been so lost in thought that it took a moment to understand she meant the Reverend.

The Reverend stood on the bow, arms spread wide as though ready to embrace the city, his long, black cape fluttering dramatically in the wind. He was shouting to be heard over the ferry’s engine, ranting on and on about God welcoming His children home.

“I wish I knew,” the Captain answered.

“Well, if you ask me, the cuckoo bird has done eaten every one of that man’s crackers.”

The Captain’s face hardened. “Yes,” he said absently. “Something certainly has.” And he thought of Danny— this child that he barely even knew—and realized the boy was all he had left that mattered and that the boy was at this very moment at the mercy of a murderous madman.

He stood and walked rapidly to the doors, needing to see the boy. Danny stood in front of the Reverend. The Captain attempted to make eye contact, to give the boy some reassurance, but Danny only stared down at the deck.

The Captain looked out past the Reverend. He could see they would be docking soon. Danny was running out of time.

NICK GRIPPED THE railing and held tight. They were coming upon the ferry terminal fast, too fast.

Peter, the Devils, the elves, the witch and her brood had all climbed up onto the roof of the ferry and were now peering down over the front railing. There were two decks below them. Most of the ship’s passengers were crowded on the deck directly below, the Reverend and Flesh-eaters on the deck below that, the very bottom deck.

Nick glanced over his shoulder at the pilot house. The pilot had one hand wrapped tight around the wheel as though for dear life, and the radio pressed to his lips with the other. He was jabbering away, not once taking his eyes off the group of barghest hanging from the rail just outside his window. Nick wished he’d pay a little more attention to where they were going, because it looked like they were heading straight for the pylons.

Peter sat perched on the lip of the overhang, sword in hand, poised to leap down upon the Reverend at any moment, his eyes restless and wild, like those of a bird of prey.

The Lady was tied to Danny, and both were held by the giant Flesh-eater, the one called Ox. Nick could see Peter struggling to hold back. But with that many Flesh-eaters around, even Peter seemed to understand that an ill-timed attack could cost the Lady her life.

The Devils watched Peter, ready to attack on his signal, every one of them prepared to throw their lives away, though not for the Lady, Nick knew, but for Peter, for their feral messiah himself. How many more, Peter? Nick wondered. How many more is she going to cost? Peter caught Nick staring at him and looked away.

“We’re gonna hit!” Dirk cried.

Peter slid back next to Nick and gripped the rail. “Nick,” he said. “She is Avalon. Do you not understand? If we can save her, then maybe it wasn’t all for nothing. Maybe there’s still a chance to begin anew.”

Nick could plainly see that any remorse, any guilt Peter might have felt for all the dead was gone, forgotten. It was about the Lady, his precious Lady. No cost is too high, is it, Peter?

Too late the ferry’s big engines switched into reverse. Nick braced himself. The ferry managed to miss the pylons—the first few, at least. There came a terrific jolt as the side of the ferry smashed against the remaining pylons, followed by a deep grinding and wrenching as the hull crashed into the dock. The ferry stopped with a final jolt, tossing most of the passengers to the deck. The passengers that could, were up and climbing over the gate before the dock workers even began to tie the boat down, heedless of the young, the old, or injured.

The ferry had two platforms to accommodate both decks of exiting passengers. Nick watched as passengers and crew exited from the upper decks, knocking and shoving each other in their panic. Meanwhile, the Flesh-eaters were leaving at a leisurely pace via the lower platform.

All at once it dawned on Nick that he was back in civilization, that he was free at last. The nightmare, for him at least, was over. Oh my God, I’m here! I’m home!

“Let’s go,” Peter called. He slid down the foot rungs on the outside of the ferry and leaped onto the upper docking level. The Devils and elves followed quickly behind. The witch and her brood scampered down to the platform, up the side of the building, and disappeared onto the roof. The troll began to ease his way down the rungs.

Cricket started after Peter when Nick grabbed her. “Wait,” he said.

“What? No. We’re going to lose them.”

“Exactly.”

“No, Nick. We have to save her.”

“Are you mad? Cricket, look, we’re here. We’re back! We don’t have to play Peter’s game anymore. It’s over.”

“It’s not over. Tanngnost said that if we can save her there’s a chance she can rebuild Avalon. They plan to go into the wilderness and start over. All of us. You too, if you want.”

Nick let out a mean laugh. “And after all their lies, you’re going to believe that?”

Cricket jerked her arm away. “Yes. What else do I have to believe in? Where else do I have to go? The Devils are my family! Maybe one day you will learn what that means!” She spun away,