Traitor to the Crown by C.C. Finlay Page A

making their plans, we’re just like fish in a barrel. We’re trapped here on The Farm, and that’s precisely where they want us. It leaves them free to pursue whatever they want while we don’t do anything.”
    “We don’t have to leave The Farm to learn things,” she said. “I … I can learn to spirit-walk. I’ll find a way to reach Magdalena again. I’ll ask her to explain her warnings to us.”
    She could learn to spirit-walk, but what did that leave him to do to protect his family? Wait until they were in danger again and react? “What exactly was Magdalena’s warning to you?”
    Deborah dropped her eyes and sighed. She pulled the blankets up around her and caressed Maggie’s head. “I didn’t mean to argue with you.”
    “I tell you what her warning was—she told you we were a danger to each other. She told you that our enemy would use you against your loved ones, use your loved ones against you.”
    He saw the tears rolling down her cheeks and the shudder in her shoulders and hated himself for saying anything. But it was the truth, and they had to face the truth if they were going to survive. He squeezed his eyes shut. Dear God, they had been attacked inside their own home. And the fire that the demon used to attack them had been stoked with his own hands.
    “Love is never a danger in itself,” Deborah chokedout. “It is the fear of losing love that drives us to do evil. The only solution is for us not to be afraid.”
    He went to the bed and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. She pressed her wet cheek against his shoulder. “I’m not afraid of love,” he whispered. “I’m afraid of seeing the people I love get hurt. I’m afraid of doing nothing while evil men seek ways to hurt us. I want to find a way to stop them. I have to stop them or we’ll never be safe again.”
    “I understand that,” she said, wrapping her arm around him and squeezing. “I understand that you must follow your own light and do what you are led to believe is right. Just give me a moment to grow accustomed to it.”
    She shifted Maggie so that she rested half across her lap and half across Proctor’s. They sat there quietly, and Proctor listened to the quiet sounds of their breathing. He wondered how the world could feel so perfectly right and so terribly wrong at the exact same time.
    If he was going to take the fight to the Covenant, he would have to follow them to Europe—to Hesse or England or wherever they might be. It would take him away from his family, but it would also take them out of danger. He couldn’t be used to hurt them.
    A soft tap sounded at the door.
    Deborah scrubbed her cheeks dry with a sleeve and gathered up Maggie. “What is it?” she asked.
    “Proctor? Deborah?” Abigail’s voice. She sounded frightened.
    “Coming,” Proctor said. He jumped to the door and pulled it open.
    Abigail stood in the hall in her nightdress. Her hands were shaking. Lydia stood behind her.
    “It’s Magdalena,” Abigail said. “She came to visit me.” She indicated Lydia. “Came to visit us.”
    “I told her it could wait until morning,” Lydia said.
    “Can it wait until morning?” Proctor asked. He didn’t know how many nights he had left to spend with Deborah and Maggie, and, with the prospect of leaving looming over him, he suddenly found that every moment with them was precious to him.
    But Deborah appeared at his shoulder, her cap firming on her head, a sweater over her nightgown, and the baby in her arms. “Let’s talk now,” she said. “We’re all awake, it’ll be dawn in just a few hours, and Maggie needs a diaper change.”
    She pushed past them and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She must have left all the diapers drying on the rack beside the hearth. Abigail followed her instantly. Lydia shrugged and went after them both.
    Proctor sighed. Once Deborah made up her mind to do something, she set about doing it. It was one of her better traits, when it