8. The Tribe
My eyes flew open to find Ursula and the snowy mountain chalet gone, replaced by a canopy of trees in the foreground of a night sky and the monotonous hum of people chanting. The source of that chant lay about forty feet to my left: a group of fifty or so people encircling an enormous fire, their hands joined, their lean, scantily-clad bodies swaying from side to side. They repeated a low, garbled mantra over and over again as a man with a strange headpiece sitting outside of the circle pounded a rhythmic beat on his drum. I squinted at the thing on his head. It looked like a . . . tiger’s head?
A shout pulled my attention back toward the fire. This time I noticed the four tall wooden posts rising around it. My eyes drifted up their length, culminating in a platform-like structure at least fifteen feet above the fire on which sat a man wearing a large hat. It was dark, but I thought he was pointing at me.
Leo had transported me. Again.
“Evang . . . ”
The weak groan drew my eyes to a body lying on the sandy ground behind me. Julian. The bonfire cast just enough light to illuminate the dark stain forming on the front of his parka. “Julian!” I shrieked, dropping to my knees beside him. Leo had sent him with me to save him from Ursula, but by the looks of it, Leo had been too late. With the lightest touch, I slowly unzipped his winter jacket, afraid any movement would hurt him further. “Please don’t die!” I moaned.
I vaguely noticed that the incessant drumbeat and chanting had died, exchanged for gasps and words spurted in an odd tongue. I didn’t pay too much attention, intent on seeing how badly Julian was wounded.
Evangeline, stand up, Max commanded in a flat tone.
A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God you’re here, Max! Julian needs help.”
Stand up. Now, Max said a second time, now with an ominous undercurrent.
I ignored him, pulling Julian’s jacket back to see the deep gash between his rib bones. Blood ran freely. So much blood.
I felt the low rumble in my chest as Max growled. Too much blood. It was tempting a hungry Max. “Help him,” I cried meekly, knowing there was little hope. If only Sofie or Leo were here . . .
Something cold and sharp grazed my chin. I shifted to see a metal spearhead attached to a shaft that was a good seven feet long. Panic sparked in me. Leo wouldn’t send us somewhere dangerous, would he? My eyes drifted up the length of the spear, over the pair of clawed, dark-skinned hands that gripped it, up along a nude male torso, to finish at a set of jaundiced eyes, the whites so sickly yellow that they gleamed like glow-in-the-dark stickers. In hideousness they matched the decaying teeth and disfigured nose, multiple heavy gold rings stretching out both nostrils in opposite directions. I cowered at the man’s unsightliness. I wasn’t sure if I should even call him a man. What were they? Glancing left and right, I found the others surrounding us were equally repulsive.
The spearhead pushed up under my chin, digging into my flesh. Stand up, Max instructed, and this time I obeyed. Don’t let them touch you.
“I’m in no rush to let them do anything,” I mumbled, my attention flitting from one set of jaundiced eyes to the next.
The man who sat on top of the platform—whose hat was made of colorful peacock feathers, I now saw—barked out something in that strange tongue that I didn’t understand. A dozen spears were instantly leveled—most of them at Max, one at me. No one bothered with Julian. He was no threat to anyone.
“Wait!” I held my hands up in the most non-threatening manner I could. None of them moved. “What the hell do I say, Max?” I hissed.
I doubt it matters.
The man’s eyes darted to Max, then back to me, his eyes narrowing as if he understood our ability to communicate and he didn’t like it. He uttered another string of gibberish. One of the men lowered his spear and stepped forward, his arm outstretched toward Max.
Max’s teeth bared in response. A warning. The reaction was several spears to his back and legs. His cry of agony pierced the night air.
“No!” I cried, watching in horror as they forced my werebeast to the ground. I dove to wrap my arms protectively around his neck, bracing myself for a painful stab to my back. “Fight back, Max!” I whispered in his ear.
No. They’ll kill me.
Kill an immortal werebeast? Hopelessness washed over me. “Why would Leo send us here, Max?” I whispered, gripping the dog tightly and burying my face in his fur, sensing the crowd closing in on us.
The feather-capped man barked a word that sounded like an order. No one moved. Again, he barked.
He wants you to stand, Max translated.
“No! They may stab you again,” I moaned.
If you don’t, they will definitely stab the both of us. I like my odds better with you standing.
With that in mind, I scrambled to my feet. The leader descended from the platform and moved forward through the crowd, his sickly eyes scanning my face as if reading something on it. Suddenly he threw his arm out to the side, palm raised. A spear was placed in it.
I sucked in a mouthful of air, terrified.
Your necklace, Max whispered. Show it to him.
For a moment I didn’t move, too paralyzed with doubt. Then my hand flew to my neck to fish out the pendant. The abrupt movement caused a commotion in the group and spears rose. “Wait!” I exclaimed, holding my palms out again. Featherman shouted an order and the spears immediately dropped. Moving slowly this time, I reached back up to my coat and tugged the zipper down. Sliding my hand inside, I grabbed hold of the chain and pulled the dull black pendant out from under layers of winter clothes.
My breath caught as Featherman’s spear tip approached my chest. Without stepping any closer, he gently hooked the end of the spear around the chain and stretched the pendant toward him, his eyes narrowing as if to analyze it. With a look up at my face and back down, he nodded and mumbled something to himself.
Julian moaned then. Dropping the spear, Featherman turned to look down at the young dying man, then stooped to inspect the wound.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” I said without thinking. Taking in their loincloths and mud huts, I realized how absurd that statement was. Yet I couldn’t just let him die. “Help him, please.”
Featherman waved his hand in a circular motion, then pointed to Julian. The crowd immediately parted to allow in men and women holding long sticks with loops of rope attached at the ends. They each hooked one around Julian’s arm or leg without touching him. With surprising grace, they lifted Julian in unison, earning a gasp from him.
“Max, what are they doing?” I whispered anxiously as we watched them carry Julian toward the fire.
I don’t know. Honestly.
Something dug into my back. Turning, I found one of the tribesmen nudging us to follow with the blunt end of his spear. I obliged, walking hesitantly forward. When we were about fifteen feet away from one of the little huts where the bearers had stopped with Julian, another spear suddenly appeared to block our path. Close enough, they were saying.
Max and I watched in silence as a woman appeared from the hut, pulling on a pair of dark, elbow-length gloves as I imagined a surgeon would do in preparing for an operation. Other tribeswomen followed behind her with wooden trays holding various objects—bowls, leaves, ominous-looking tools. The procession wordlessly circled Julian, whose eyes remained closed.
The woman with the gloves leaned toward Julian, a sharp object gripped in her hand. “Oh my God, Max!” I whispered, grabbing a fistful of Max’s fur and squeezing. It earned a small grunt from him but I didn’t care. What was she going to do to Julian?
We watched as she stretched the collar of Julian’s shirt away from his neck with one hand. She then pulled the sharp object along the material, slicing it in half and spreading the sides open to reveal his chest and the worrying gash. I breathed the tiniest sigh of relief.
Next she took a wooden spoon and bowl from a tray, dipped the spoon into the bowl, and began gently slathering a pale gray, mud-like paste over the wound. When the area was completely covered, she dropped the tools and knelt down beside him to smooth over the application with her hand. Julian’s face tightened briefly in pain, but no noise escaped him.
“Max!” I hissed. “What are they doing?”
I don’t know, but as long as they don’t touch him with their skin, they’re likely trying to help.
“What’s wrong with their skin?” I took a few steps closer, but a spear swung toward me in warning. I cautiously backed up again.
They’re called Ambulans Mortem. Walking Death.
“Why are they called . . . that?” I faltered, watching as the four women assisting Julian’s nursemaid joined hands around them and began chanting.
Their touch is instant death to all—humans, vampires, werebeasts. Anyone except their own tribe. And they have no qualms about using it. The death tribe hates our kind—hates all kinds, except their own.
“Just a single touch?” I repeated slowly, uncomprehending.
Contact with their skin. Yes.
My eyes widened. “Where did they come from?”
Sofie made them. Accidentally. She was supposed to kill them years ago, but decided not to. I think they fascinated her. She kept them hidden from Viggo, of course, who would have sent a nuke here if he had known she was crazy enough to keep them alive.
“How on Earth does someone ‘accidentally’ create something like that?” I wondered aloud.
It’s that Fates magic. I don’t know . . . Sofie can explain it to you one day.
Another, more concerning thought popped into my head. “Why on earth would Leo send us to these people?”
Because Sofie told him to, if the need ever arose. Of course she expected that it would involve Viggo finding you . . . It’s probably the safest place for you to be right now. No vampire or sorceress in their right mind will enter these lands. Sorcerous magic doesn’t work around them. They’re like a black hole for the powers of vampires and witches. An anti-magic. They have their own kind of magic.
“But . . . ” I was struggling with all of this. “How did she know they wouldn’t kill me?”
Well . . . she didn’t, for sure. She created them, so they show some deference to her. But it only goes so far. Several years ago, she approached them with an offer in exchange for help, if this day should ever arise. That pendant was the signal. Max chuckled. That woman has more escape routes than an eel.
“And of course you knew this all along,” I said through gritted teeth.
There was no need to scare you. I never thought we’d end up here.
I angrily shook my head, but now was not the time to scold Max over his continuing duplicity. I needed information. “What did she offer them?” I whispered.
Tigers.
I screwed my face up. “What?”
Tigers. You know: rawr.
“But . . . ” Thinking about the headdress that drummer wore, I didn’t finish.
For some reason, tigers are immune to their touch. They think the giant fur balls are gifts from their fire god, so they surround themselves with tigers.
My eyes roamed the clearing, looking for the presence of these animals. “I don’t see any.”
Oh, they’re there. Look harder.Behind the huts.
I followed his direction, squinting into the shadows. There. A pair of glowing feline eyes. A few feet away, I saw another set. And another. Just beyond the huts, a ring of tigers surrounded us, watching. A shiver ran down my spine.
A male scream whipped my head from the tigers to Julian, now conscious, his teeth bared as he struggled to break free from the constraints around his wrists and ankles as the gloved woman inserted several bone-colored needles into his wound. The tribesmen holding Julian leaned in with their weight on the long poles, tightening their grip, securing Julian’s limbs before he accidentally grazed a bare leg. Now unable to move, he seethed, face contorted with pain as he watched the woman accept a steaming bowl of something. Leaning forward, she poured the hot clear liquid over his wound. Julian roared in agony.
“No!” I cried out, making to move forward. A spear jabbed the air dangerously close to my chest, stopping me.
My cry caught the attention of Featherman, who towered over the operation with his arms crossed over his chest. At a casual wave of his hand, four tribesmen turned and marched toward us, spears leveled. They prodded us, herding Max and me away from the scene. Farther and farther back we went, until we were forced through the narrow entrance of a tiny hut. A cloth door dropped, closing us in. Crouching, I peeked under the bottom of the door, and spotted heels. The tribesmen were on guard. I rose and turned to survey the hut, which held nothing but a wooden bowl and a reed mat in the corner, illuminated by the firelight shining through a tiny window near the ceiling.
I ran to the window. First on tiptoes, then jumping, I tried to reach the bottom sill so I could pull myself up and see outside. It was too high. “Max. Come here,” I hissed. In three steps, he was beside me. “Stand right here.” I pushed him up against the wall. “And stay still.” Throwing my arms over his neck, I hoisted myself up onto his back.
So this is what a horse feels like, he grumbled.
“Shut up, Max!” I retorted. “You owe me, after all of your lies!” I kicked off my winter boots. With my hands pressed against the cool, hard mud wall of the hut for balance, I stood on Max’s back and peered out the window.
I had a prime view of the bonfire and Julian, who lay unmoving, eyes closed, his face now pallid. They had stripped off the rest of his clothing and covered his entire body in what looked like soggy green leaves. The four women still encircled him, their hands linked, their eyes closed, their mouths moving in unison as they chanted softly.
“Is he going to be okay?” I whispered to Max.
I don’t know, Evangeline. I’m sorry. By his tone, I knew the big dog was being genuine.
The woman with the gloves stood to accept another large bowl. Walking around Julian, she carefully poured a clear liquid over the leaf covering. At a snap of her fingers, someone handed her a burning stick. My jaw clenched as I watched, my apprehension growing as the burning stick approached Julian’s still body. The chanting women grew louder and more boisterous, until they were all shrieking at the top of their lungs like a bunch of lunatics.
“No . . . ” I moaned, gripping the base of the window and watching wide-eyed as, with just a pass of the tiny brand, Julian’s entire body went up in flames. “No!” I screamed, at the same time that Julian let out a skin-peeling shriek, his back arching severely.
I lost my balance and tumbled. Max, moving with his lighting speed, dove underneath me to cushion my fall before I could hit the hard ground. Lying on top of the massive werebeast with my heart pounding in my ears, I began to cry. I didn’t stop for a long time, weeping openly into Max’s side, my anger with Sofie and Leo for sending us to such a horrific place growing with each minute. This was worse than the mountains, way worse. And now they were burning Julian alive and I would be alone. “Why would they abandon us to these monsters, Max?” I asked through my sobs.
Max responded with a nuzzle to my cheek. Leo was protecting you from Ursula, remember?
I sat up, using the sleeve of my coat to wipe my eyes. “Well, where is Leo? Why didn’t he come too?” Silence met my question. “Max?” My voice wavered with uncertainty.
My brothers took Ursula down. She’s gone.
“And Leo? He’s okay, right?” No answer. “Max!”
I’m sorry, Evangeline. Whatever life he had left in him, he used to send us here. He’s with Maeve now.
Leo . . . dead? The news brought a fresh round of tears. I fell back to lean against the cool wall, a large, painful lump forming in my throat. Everyone was dying around me—because of me. Leo; probably Julian; next it could be Max or Sofie. When would this all end? When the necklace came off, I realized. I looked down at the thing, resting on the outside of my parka, and the sudden urge to rip it off my body overwhelmed me.
Don’t you dare, Max warned as if reading my mind. It stayed my hand. For now.
After staring at motionless heels for what seemed like hours, I saw the guards’ feet shift. A clawed hand curled around the edge of the curtain to pull it back. Squeezing through the narrow opening, four men carried Julian in on a simple stretcher of wood and cloth. They set him down gently, then turned and walked out without a word or glance in our direction. A woman from the circle entered behind them, placing a bowl and a neatly folded stack of clothes in a corner. As she left, her eyes skimmed over Max, but she said nothing.
Now alone, I crawled over on my hands and knees. “Julian?” I whispered. He didn’t answer. Discouraged, I inspected his upper body to see that it appeared unscathed by the fire that had engulfed him not long ago. The women had removed all of the green, leafy substance and covered him from the waist down with a small hemp blanket. A patch of that gray paste, now dry, covered his wound. I peered at his face. It was still ghostly pale, though slightly less pallid than before. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead and several drops rolled down his cheek. I didn’t know if it was due to his body fighting infection, or the oppressive heat.
So swept up by the activities of the tribe and Julian, I hadn’t had time to feel the drastic temperature change. Now that I gave it a second’s thought, I realized I was drenched in sweat. No wonder—I was dressed for temperatures at least a hundred degrees colder. If I didn’t get out of these layers soon, I’d likely pass out.
I began peeling off my winter gear, beginning with my hat, until I was in nothing but my gray long johns. Even those were too much. I crawled over to the pile of clothes in the corner. Julian’s things, torn and bloodied, lay on top. Underneath them was a two-piece set of clothing that matched what the women in the tribe wore—whatever that was called. Glancing over at Julian to make sure he was still unconscious, I ordered Max to turn around. He obliged, and I quickly pulled off the long johns and slipped on the outfit. Thank the heavens they aren’t one of those topless tribes, I silently celebrated, looking down at the skirt and the strip of cloth meant to be a shirt.
“Julian?” I whispered again, sliding back over to him. Nothing.
He needs to rest, Max said. As do you.
In answer, I balled up my coat and, placing it under my head, lay down next to Julian’s still body, reaching out to hold his hand. It would be a long time before sleep finally came to me.
I awoke to sunlight streaming in through the tiny window. Beads of sweat ran down my cheek; the hot, muggy air was uncomfortable even with the little that I wore. Max was stretched out on one side of me, unmoving, his eyes closed. I knew he wasn’t sleeping, though. He didn’t sleep. The previous day’s nightmare flashed in my mind then. I bolted upright and spun around.
Julian’s eyes were open a crack.
“Julian!” I exclaimed, throwing myself on him without thinking, earning a groan. “Sorry!” I quickly sat back up to gaze at him. “How are you feeling?”
Julian licked his lips several times. “Water . . . ” he finally croaked, reaching up to paw the air with a weak hand.
There’s water in the bowl in the corner, Max instructed.
I scurried over to grab it and bring it back to Julian’s side. “Can you sit up?” I asked softly, sliding my hand behind his neck to help him get up to his elbows. I held the bowl up to his mouth. He gulped the entire contents down.
“Thank you.”
I shifted my makeshift pillow under his head and eased him back.
“What happened? The last thing I remember was snowshoeing . . . and the wolf.”
I swallowed, not sure where to begin. “We went back to the chalet after . . . ” I hesitated. “After Max figured out that Valentina had been possessed by Ursula.”
Julian’s brow knit as he searched his memory. “Oh, right. She was—”
“A witch. A bad one.”
“Right.” He paused, thinking. “What happened after that? How did we get here?”
“Leo—” I choked; saying his name pulled at the already gaping wound in my heart. “He sent us to another safe location.” The giant lump in my throat was unmovable by this point.
“And my sister?” His head rolled slowly from side to side as he looked around the hut. For Valentina, no doubt.
How did I tell him that she had been torn apart by Max’s brothers? “Valentina has been gone for weeks, Julian,” I said instead, my voice quiet.
He frowned, trying to comprehend what I was saying. Realization finally clouded those brown eyes. Tears welled. “My sister’s dead.”
Max was on his feet and heading over to the door to nose aside the curtain and peer outside. This was too much for him to handle. It was too much for me, as well. “I’m so sorry, Julian,” I said, a fresh batch of tears rolling down my cheeks, the pain of watching my closest friend lose his entire family agonizing.
Julian rolled onto his side, away from me, likely to hide his tears. The action shifted the hemp blanket covering him, revealing his entire bare backside. Feeling my cheeks flush, I was about to avert my eyes when something caught my eye.
A small cross-like tattoo on his hip.
I gasped. “You’re—”
Despite his grave injury, Julian’s body stiffened and he quickly rolled back, realizing what he had just revealed: the mark that branded him part of the People’s Sentinel. But why was it not on his hand, like all the others?
Max was by my side in an instant. What’s wrong?
“You’re—” I started again but stopped to swallow, realizing that as soon as the words came out of my mouth, Julian was as good as dead. He was the enemy. Max would destroy him, regardless of whether he had saved my life.
Recognizing the situation, Julian pleaded silently with his teary eyes.
But why? How? How was the son of Viggo’s beard family part of the enemy without Viggo knowing? It explained his hatred for vampires. But . . . how? A flood of questions entered my mind then and I knew I would never get answers with Max hovering. “Probably still thirsty,” I told Max, grabbing the bowl and thrusting it toward him. “Can you go fetch some more water?”
Do not use the word ‘fetch’ with me, Max responded crisply. And have you noticed I don’t have opposable thumbs?
“You’ll figure it out, Max,” I said, trying to sound casual, but failing. “Unless you want me to go out there while you stay here and comfort Julian.”
With a grunt, Max plucked the bowl out of my hand with his teeth and pushed the curtain aside, practically running out of the hut.
I crawled over and peeked around the curtain to watch him as he sauntered among the huts, staggering slightly. He must be starving by now. The place was deserted. The remnants of the bonfire smoldered in the center of the clearing. In daylight, I could see the place clearly for what it was—a tribal village in a dense jungle. At least thirty huts formed the perimeter of the clearing. Two tigers sat outside each hut door as if on guard, their tails swirling back and forth as they watched the mammoth dog traipse through their village. Across the way, opposite our hut, sat a much larger hut than all the others. Four tigers guarded it. That had to be the Featherman’s hut. I guessed he was the chief.
When I thought Max was out of earshot, I turned and dove toward Julian, my hands landing on either shoulder, pinning him roughly to the ground.
“Ouch!” he cried.
“Shut up, you liar!” I whispered sharply.
That earned a wince. “I didn’t lie.”
“No, you’re right. You just conveniently left out an important truth. You and Max have a lot more in common than I thought!” I tempered my tone, realizing that my whisper was likely loud enough to carry in the quiet of the jungle.
“Do you blame me?” Julian whispered back. “How could I tell you? Especially after that first night, when you pretty much condemned every one of us!”
“Can you blame me? You want all of my friends to die!”
“No, I don’t! I mean, I did, but not anymore. Please, let me explain!” Julian pleaded.
With my jaw set stubbornly, I sat back on my knees, crossed my arms over my chest, and demanded, “Explain, then!”
Julian struggled to sit up. He met my stare with guilty eyes. “Two years ago, these men approached my parents with an offer. They said they’d help us break free of the vampires.” He pausing for a moment to regain his breath, his breathing shallow. “At first my parents weren’t interested. I mean, they didn’t need to do anything for the vampires except sign some papers every now and then and collect stupid amounts of money. Not exactly high-risk. But a few months later, the men came back with an offer to top whatever my parents were being paid. That, of course, sparked their interest.” There was contempt in his voice. “All we had to do was get marked—” he gestured to his hip “—and report in to a phone number if we heard or noticed anything strange. My parents agreed to it.”
“And you?”
Julian snorted. “They could be quite . . . persuasive.” As if sitting up was too hard, he slowly eased himself back. He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before continuing. “They threatened not to pay for my med school unless I complied.” His head rolled to look at me now. “So of course I agreed. I mean, what did I care about a bunch of vampires? It was obvious these men wished them harm. I figured we’d all be better off if they actually succeeded in getting rid of them. I didn’t know about the curse, or about this underground Sentinel group and its alliance with the witches . . . I didn’t know about you.” He stared at me, a strange look on his face.
I exhaled loudly, and some of my anger went with it, replaced with a mixture of pity and confusion. Pity that his own parents would drag him into such a mess, and confusion over how they actually pulled off tricking a two thousand-year-old vampire who could read moods. “But how? I mean, how could Viggo not find out that his beard family were double agents?”
Julian shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard, really. We never saw them. The first time I ever stepped foot inside their place in Manhattan was the day you were there. Why would they suspect anything? The men . . . the Sentinel told us that if we kept our markings hidden, we’d be fine.”
I added to his explanation. “And Viggo is so arrogant, he never suspected someone could top his bribes.”
Julian nodded, rolling his eyes. “It took a lot of money, but it happened.”
Something still didn’t sit right with me. “You parents just took the Sentinel’s word at face value?”
Julian chuckled. “No . . . the Sentinel told them that Viggo and Mortimer wouldn’t be around much longer, so if they wanted to be taken care of, they’d be smart to take the deal. My parents accepted on the condition that they got several large advances up front. So I guess they figured that they couldn’t lose, either way.”
“Boy, were they wrong,” I muttered, imagining their last few moments of life and shuddering. “Sorry,” I added.
“Yeah.” Julian’s voice was hollow. “But luckily they didn’t learn anything valuable to the Sentinel while they were there.”
I felt my eyes widen as realization dawned. No, but you have. Julian knew everything there was to know. Everything that I knew, I had stupidly divulged to him. Enough to harm the vampires. Enough to destroy everyone I cared for.
Max pushed through the curtain then, water splashing out of the bowl as he tried to balance it upright within his jaws. He walked it over and leaned down to within Julian’s reach.
“Thanks, Max,” Julian murmured, taking the bowl. He lifted his head enough to drink from the edge of the bowl, his worried eyes locked on me the entire time.
If only you knew, Max, I thought, my focus shifting back and forth between the two of them.
When Julian finished, he half-placed, half-dropped the bowl on the floor and wiped the water from his chin with the back of his hand. “For what it’s worth, I regret ever agreeing to it.”
Regret what? Max piped in.
“Sure you do, now that you got caught,” I answered bitterly.
Caught doing what? Max asked, his tone agitated.
“No . . . now that I know you. Now that I know the whole truth and what could happen if this comes to blows.”
I pressed my lips together as I weighed my options. I could tell Max right now and end any threat Julian could ever become to Caden and the others. But . . . he had saved me from Ursula. He had attacked his own sister—her body—to protect me. I owed him. I didn’t have to trust him. But I needed time to think things through. While we were exiled to yet another remote part of the world, he couldn’t cause too much trouble. It would only take a few words from me to end him. “Nothing, Max,” I finally said, adding with an air of triumph, “You’re on a ‘need to know’ basis.”
Max grumbled in displeasure but said nothing.
The worry in Julian’s eyes lifted slightly. You’re not off the hook, you liar. I turned my back on him. Hugging my chest to my knees, I lamented over everything. At least I didn’t feel like a complete idiot this time. The Foreros had fooled everyone, not just the ever-gullible, na?ve Evangeline.
Uncomfortable silence filled the hut as I stared at the mud wall for what felt like hours. Finally I heard the soft sound of snoring. Good. I could easily avoid talking to him for the rest of the day if he wasn’t awake.