Vigil by Z. A. Maxfield Page B

and his gang of merry monsters, but he couldn’t bring
    himself to leave without saying good-bye to Bran. Then, if Boaz
    could get his money back as Santos promised, Adin could turn
    his back and walk away.
    Vigil 49
    Maybe.
    He dressed quickly and entered Bran’s room and found him
    face down on the bed. Oddly enough, it reminded him of the
    many times after his parents died, when he and Deana had been
    forced to deal with the grief of a sudden shocking loss and he’d
    found Deana exactly like this. It felt like a familiar thing, sitting
    on the side of the bed and placing a comforting hand on Bran’s
    shoulder.
    “I’m so sorry.” Adin smoothed the fabric of Bran’s T-shirt
    over his shoulder blade. “I wasn’t really thinking. I’m sorry if
    what I said—”
    “It’s all right,” Bran sniffed.
    “Tell me about what you do know. Maybe I’ll be able to
    understand.”
    “Everyone’s memories are available to me except mine.”
    “You don’t remember?”
    “I can remember my name, what I did yesterday, last week.
    Where I’ve lived recently and what I spend my time doing, most
    of the time. Some things from my childhood. A few.”
    “But the distant past?”
    Bran looked as though he were concentrating. “Nothing.”
    “You remember back how far?”
    “It’s not like that. It’s not like a line I can’t pass. It’s as if I’ve
    been nowhere, done nothing. Like one minute I wasn’t here and
    then I was.”
    “That must be odd.” Adin considered it. “It must be horrible.”
    Bran shrugged with a clink of his chains. “When I figured out
    that I could share other people’s memories and dreams, it seemed
    strange to me that I didn’t have my own.”
    “Try to think, Bran. What can you do, what have you done
    recently, that someone might want you to do for them? It has
    to be something virtually impossible… What is it that sets you
    apart?”
    50 Z.A. Maxfield
    Bran stayed mutinously silent for several minutes. Adin waited
    him out. Finally Bran’s stomach growled.
    “I’m hungry.”
    Adin sighed, giving up for the moment. “Well, if that’s actual
    hunger and not—you know—the reason people are trying to buy
    and sell you, go to Boaz and get something to eat, and I’ll be
    down in a minute, all right?”
    Bran nodded and got up, heading for the bedroom door.
    Adin watched him as he took off; heard his chains rattle and
    his feet thunder on the hard wood floors. Whatever Bran was, he
    should never have been made a pawn by Harwiche, nor should he
    be used in some game between Santos and Donte. He should be
    free to go to school, to run around with his friends on the soccer
    pitch, not chained up in dank basements urinating in bins and
    eating off the floor like a dog. Adin burned with fury at himself
    that he’d allowed it to continue after their so-called rescue, even
    though he and Boaz had done better by Bran than his previous
    captors. Making up his mind, he followed Bran toward the smell
    of food.
    Listening to Boaz and Bran chatter at the breakfast table,
    Adin thought they seemed like any normal, dysfunctional family.
    Bran helped himself to food liberally, as though he really were
    the teenaged boy he appeared to be, and Boaz kept it coming,
    perfectly shirred eggs, the kind of thick ham called bacon in
    England, along with sausages and the ubiquitous piping hot
    bread, with fresh butter and jam. In all it was a very English
    breakfast—thankfully missing a black pudding—for a French
    household, and Adin wondered if Boaz made it especially for
    him. For some reason that warmed his heart a little.
    “Boaz, Santos said you have a way to get my money back.
    I don’t suppose it’s legal, but then neither is selling adolescent
    boys, so you won’t be hearing a word about it from me.”
    “He mentioned that. I’ll see to it.”
    “And that only leaves you.” Adin turned to Bran.
    Vigil 51
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Boaz. If you