We found the stairs and climbed to the top, our footsteps loud in the silent chapel. Doors lined the hallway to our left, and I found the one marked St. John’s Children’s Rescue. I knocked lightly on the door and waited.
Kull shifted behind me, and I noticed the way he stared around the place, his eyes wide and intense with wonder, like a child’s. The myriad evening light did interesting things to his golden hair and strong jaw line, almost as if I stared at someone more than human. I could easily picture him with a crown and sword. Seeing him like that made me remember who he was, but more importantly, who I was.
He was a crowned prince, the future leader of two nations. I was no one, a simple spellcaster who had been rejected by my own parents.
The door opened, and I pushed my pity party aside. A young redheaded woman greeted us with a smile and ushered us inside the office. The room was small, decorated with a few framed diplomas. The walls were white, the floor gray, creating a sterile, lifeless feeling. A desk occupied the center of the space.
“I’m Melanie,” said the girl as she took a seat behind the desk. She wore a scarlet sweater and plaid skirt. With her hair done up on her head and her black-frame glasses accentuating her high cheekbones, she reminded me of a nerdy, semi-attractive librarian. She motioned to two chairs opposite the desk.
“Are you interested in becoming foster parents?” she asked us. She passed a business card across the table. “We have excellent resources for parents. Our foster children come from all walks of life. The option to adopt is always a possibility for those who qualify. Our agency doesn’t discriminate on basis of race, religion, or national creed.” She lifted an eyebrow at Kull. “The application process is simple if you’re interested.”
“Thank you,” I told her and took the card. What the heck, maybe I’d be lonely enough one of these days and adopt someone to share in my misery. “But we’re looking for one of your foster parents—Mrs. Dickinson. We were told she would be here.”
“Oh.” Melanie’s face fell. I realized they probably didn’t get a lot of applicants. “She left some while ago. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. Do you know where she went?”
“No, sorry.”
Stuck again. Tracking this lady down was harder than I’d realized. I stuffed the card in my pocket and stepped toward the door.
“Give Mrs. Dickinson my regards when you see her,” Melanie called after us.
I turned. “Regards for her foster son?” I clarified.
“Yes. It’s such a shame what’s happening to everyone.”
“To everyone?” Kull asked before I could.
The foster children,” Melanie explained.
“Is something wrong with them?”
“You haven’t heard? It’s been all over the news.”
“I’ve been out of the country.”
“The children are falling into comas. No one knows why, not even the doctors. It’s a real shame.”
“And all of them have the same symptoms?”
She nodded. An image popped into my head of all those children huddled on that lifeless plain where Jeremiah had been, haunted by the Dreamthief. The office seemed to spin around me as the truth sank in. It wasn’t just Jeremiah anymore. It wasn’t just the children from Geth’s camp. If I didn’t stop the Dreamthief, he would take more and more children. How many? I didn’t want to know the answer.
Children. How could someone become so depraved as to hurt children? Whoever I was dealing with didn’t have a soul.
I felt a steady hand on my shoulder. The spinning room slowed a little.
“Can you tell us any more about the children?” Kull asked. “Where they come from? What they have in common?”
She shook her head. “There doesn’t seem to be any connection.”
“Except that they’re all children from this foster home.” His voice had that warrior tone. Melanie shrank behind the desk.
“Yes, there is that.”
“Do you know of anyone here who would want to harm children?” he asked.
“No,” she said curtly.
“No one? Don’t you think it’s strange that all the children have this foster home in common?” I asked.
“We’re a reputable home. We screen all our families thoroughly.”
“And what about the employees?” Kull asked.
Her cheeks reddened. “Are you implying something?”
Was he? He was being overly bold, in my opinion. And rude. What was he getting at? Melanie didn’t deserve his Skullsplitter demeanor.
She rose and gave him a hard stare. “As I said earlier, we’re a reputable home. People from all over the world—”
“You’re lying.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re lying. The documents on the walls are false, and your left eye twitches when you lie. So tell me, Melanie.” He leaned forward. “Who are you really?”
“You’re insane.”
“Perhaps.”
“This is harassment.”
“I don’t think so.”
She turned to me. “I’m sorry, but you should leave.”
I looked from Kull to Melanie, fairly certain that my Wult sidekick had lost it. How on earth could he know the diplomas were fake? Had he even heard of a diploma? And if Melanie’s left eye twitched, I had no idea. I couldn’t see her eyes that well from this distance. How could he? He must be bluffing, trying to get her to admit to something. If so, I’d play along.
“He’s right,” I told Melanie. “The only connection between those kids is this foster home. So what’s really going on?”
She flexed her jaw. On such a sweet face, the movement looked almost animalistic.
“I’ll ask you one more time to get out,” she said with forced calmness.
“And if we don’t?” I asked.
“Then I call the cops.”
“You wouldn’t,” Kull answered. “The authorities are the last people you want snooping around.” He placed his hands on the desk and leaned close enough to whisper. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
Her face paled. She swallowed as she stared at the warrior. And then, something happened that I didn’t expect. Her peaches-and-cream voice turned to a hiss. “Wult scum.”
She lunged so fast I only saw
