every day for fifteen days.”
Sarid said nothing for a moment then gave one single nod.
A phone rang in the distance. “I’m sorry. I need to get that. Will you excuse me for a moment?”
Once the choghen left, he stood and faced the picture window. Pastor Ken had been a good friend over the years. He was there when Sarid wanted to talk, or just sit nearby when he sought peace from his demon and didn’t want to be alone in his apartment. He’d do this one thing for the choghen . Fifteen days, then he’d end his life for the good of all.
“Hi.”
He whirled. Recoiled. The back of his legs hit the chair. Breath pushed out his mouth in a loud gush. The boy edged closer. Sarid held out his hands to ward him off.
“I need help with my homework.” A piece of paper was in the boy’s hand. A pencil clutched in the other. He stared at Sarid expectantly.
“Go ask the pastor.”
“Pastor Ken said you’d help me.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did. He said you knew about this stuff and that you were the perfect person to help me.” The boy waved his paper. “If I finish my homework before my mom comes, I might be able to play with Devan later. If it’s still light out. So, can you help me?”
“Um . . .” Sarid’s gaze bounced around the room. Where was the pastor? There was a tug on his hand, warmth from small fingers. He flinched and instinctively jerked back. The chair was still directly behind him and he stumbled against it. Balance lost, he fell hard onto the seat.
The boy covered his mouth with a hand, ineffectively hiding a giggle.
He met the child’s gaze, as the boy laughed again.
“That was funny. You were like—” The boy proceeded to give a replay. Arms flailed. Eyes big. Mouth hung open. “Whoa, whoa,” he exclaimed loudly, before falling to the ground.
Sarid frowned. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It was. You were funny.”
He studied the boy’s open, innocent face and wide smile. Surprised to find his own lips curling in response.
“So, will you help me now?” The boy reached behind him, grabbed the papers he fell on, smoothing the wrinkles. “I really want to play with Devan later.”
Sarid waited, listening for the demon. The choghen was in the other room. Far enough away that the demon normally took advantage. But it said nothing. Perhaps it would be okay, except, “I’ve never helped with homework before.”
Eyes widened. “Don’t you have kids?”
He shook his head.
After treating Sarid to a long study, the boy shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ll show you how to do it.” He held out his hand.
Sarid’s gaze lowered to it. Keandre. Isn’t that what the pastor had called him?
“Come on,” Keandre said.
He stood, allowing Keandre to take his hand and lead him into the kitchen.
Chapter 15
Sarid sat at the kitchen table next to Keandre. The homework on sugar cane plantations was complete, but the boy hadn’t stopped asking questions. He was in the middle of an explanation when someone knocked on the front door.
“After the cane was cut and bundled it was transferred to the mill,” Sarid continued, after hearing the choghen rise to answer the door. “The mill wasn’t a very big building. The masters—uh, the bosses, wanted to use most of the land to grow sugar. The machines were large, though. So the workers had to cram inside the building to feed stalks into the giant rollers. It was hot. People would often faint from the heat or get sick.”
Keandre’s eyebrows lifted.
“And they had to be careful by the rollers or they could get sucked into the machine.”
The boy’s mouth dropped open.
“The juice squeezed from the cane would—” Someone was speaking to the pastor. Recognition sparked. He shot to his feet, inhaling deep. His lids drooped as comfort washed over him.
“My mom’s here.” Keandre rose, bumping the table. Milk sloshed over the rim of his plastic cup. He raced from the room.
Sarid followed. He had no choice. It was
Sarid said nothing for a moment then gave one single nod.
A phone rang in the distance. “I’m sorry. I need to get that. Will you excuse me for a moment?”
Once the choghen left, he stood and faced the picture window. Pastor Ken had been a good friend over the years. He was there when Sarid wanted to talk, or just sit nearby when he sought peace from his demon and didn’t want to be alone in his apartment. He’d do this one thing for the choghen . Fifteen days, then he’d end his life for the good of all.
“Hi.”
He whirled. Recoiled. The back of his legs hit the chair. Breath pushed out his mouth in a loud gush. The boy edged closer. Sarid held out his hands to ward him off.
“I need help with my homework.” A piece of paper was in the boy’s hand. A pencil clutched in the other. He stared at Sarid expectantly.
“Go ask the pastor.”
“Pastor Ken said you’d help me.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did. He said you knew about this stuff and that you were the perfect person to help me.” The boy waved his paper. “If I finish my homework before my mom comes, I might be able to play with Devan later. If it’s still light out. So, can you help me?”
“Um . . .” Sarid’s gaze bounced around the room. Where was the pastor? There was a tug on his hand, warmth from small fingers. He flinched and instinctively jerked back. The chair was still directly behind him and he stumbled against it. Balance lost, he fell hard onto the seat.
The boy covered his mouth with a hand, ineffectively hiding a giggle.
He met the child’s gaze, as the boy laughed again.
“That was funny. You were like—” The boy proceeded to give a replay. Arms flailed. Eyes big. Mouth hung open. “Whoa, whoa,” he exclaimed loudly, before falling to the ground.
Sarid frowned. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It was. You were funny.”
He studied the boy’s open, innocent face and wide smile. Surprised to find his own lips curling in response.
“So, will you help me now?” The boy reached behind him, grabbed the papers he fell on, smoothing the wrinkles. “I really want to play with Devan later.”
Sarid waited, listening for the demon. The choghen was in the other room. Far enough away that the demon normally took advantage. But it said nothing. Perhaps it would be okay, except, “I’ve never helped with homework before.”
Eyes widened. “Don’t you have kids?”
He shook his head.
After treating Sarid to a long study, the boy shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ll show you how to do it.” He held out his hand.
Sarid’s gaze lowered to it. Keandre. Isn’t that what the pastor had called him?
“Come on,” Keandre said.
He stood, allowing Keandre to take his hand and lead him into the kitchen.
Chapter 15
Sarid sat at the kitchen table next to Keandre. The homework on sugar cane plantations was complete, but the boy hadn’t stopped asking questions. He was in the middle of an explanation when someone knocked on the front door.
“After the cane was cut and bundled it was transferred to the mill,” Sarid continued, after hearing the choghen rise to answer the door. “The mill wasn’t a very big building. The masters—uh, the bosses, wanted to use most of the land to grow sugar. The machines were large, though. So the workers had to cram inside the building to feed stalks into the giant rollers. It was hot. People would often faint from the heat or get sick.”
Keandre’s eyebrows lifted.
“And they had to be careful by the rollers or they could get sucked into the machine.”
The boy’s mouth dropped open.
“The juice squeezed from the cane would—” Someone was speaking to the pastor. Recognition sparked. He shot to his feet, inhaling deep. His lids drooped as comfort washed over him.
“My mom’s here.” Keandre rose, bumping the table. Milk sloshed over the rim of his plastic cup. He raced from the room.
Sarid followed. He had no choice. It was
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