THE NIGHT OF LOST SOULS PART 2
JACK CROW
Five years later
Louisiana – United States
My steps are interrupted when the little redhead, like a cat, breaks free, practically falling in front of me, holding a shard of broken glass in his hand, pointing it in my direction. From his look, I can tell he’s ready to attack me if necessary.
"Don’t even think about going near her, you filthy pervert! I’ll cut off your dirty balls before you can lay a finger on her..." I glance from the shard in his hand to his face, clenching my jaw.
"Christ, let me throw this firehead over my knees, Jack, and teach this little shit what manners are..."
"Why don’t you try it, little man?" the rebellious redhead shouts, laughing and straightening up, lowering his arm.
"You’ve got talent, kid," I say, raising my head and observing the height he jumped from.
"Oh, that was nothing! Wait until you see me stabbing your gut..." He turns and runs to the corner.
My eyes follow where he went, and I step forward, spotting the red-haired boy crouched on the floor next to the little accomplice. Both stare at the bag, and his quick hands grab a piece of bread, handing it to her. Her frightened black eyes meet mine, and she shrinks further, crawling on the floor, terrified.
"What’s wrong with you two? You’ve already been given food..." The boy sits on the ground, picking up the bread and biting into it while opening the soda bottle.
"Yeah, I’d like to know too." Fredo stands beside me, growling low. "Let’s go, you’ve done your good deed. Now we need to get back to the circus..."
I glance from the two of them devouring the food to Fredo and nod, turning with the man toward the exit so we can leave.
"You guys from that mountain circus?" the boy asks curiously. "You’re the elephant shit cleaners..."
"Where’s your respect, boy?!" Fredo roars, glaring at him. "You’re standing before a Crow. A true Crow, the owner of all that..."
"You hear that..." the boy bumps shoulders with the girl, passing her the soda. "We’re standing in front of the circus owner, who honestly looks more like a thief than we do. Tell a better lie, little man..."
She drinks the soda, her eyes briefly passing over me before lowering her head again. I notice the marks on her neck, becoming clearer as her fingers push her hair back. The wide scars circle her throat, as well as her wrists, and I press my lips together, trying to understand how a child has so many scars.
Her leg stretches out and I see her shoe’s sole is coming off. Her shins are exposed and I notice one is wrapped in a dirty, mud-stained piece of cloth.
"What are your names?" I ask, studying them. The way they devour the bread confirms what I suspected: they hadn’t eaten anything fresh or decent in a long time.
"Why do you wanna know?"
"Answer my question," I say firmly to the little redhead, who quickly lowers his face, swallowing his bread.
"My name is Charles..." he mutters, curling up even more on the floor near the girl.
"And yours? What’s your name?" I ask her, watching her keep her head down, not looking at me, just shoving more bread into her mouth. "Your name, child, what’s your name..."
"She’s not gonna answer you." The boy is quick, extending his arm toward her. "Selly doesn’t talk. Well, not to people like you..."
I blink, confused, not understanding, looking from the boy to Fredo, who’s silently evaluating them.
"What kind of people?" I pull my fingers from my coat pockets, studying the girl who looks like a frightened little bear cub, stuffing the bread into her mouth with quick fingers, devouring it hungrily.
"Men..." the boy replies, mouth full, chewing quickly and chugging the soda. "Shitty men who only hurt us. Selly doesn’t talk to men..."
I look at Fredo, who’s now studying her seriously, then raises his eyes to meet mine, understanding—just as I do—what the boy is saying.
"Where are your parents, Charles?" I ask quietly, analyzing them.
He swallows the bread, wipes his mouth, and lets out a burp, his eyes locking on Fredo before rolling them.
"My mom was a whore. She died, I think..." he says, shrugging. "Left me with my grandma, and when she died, I ran away so I wouldn’t end up in an orphanage. A few months later, I found Selly hiding here..."
"Christ..." Fredo mutters in shock as I look at the little girl, who stares at the apple in her hands.
"A homeless woman who lived here found her tangled in barbed wire, with a gunshot wound in her ankle, abandoned by the side of the road," Charles says. "Bel took care of us, and we took care of her. But last year, because of the cold, she died. So now I take care of Selly, and Selly takes care of me..."
His chest puffs with pride as he drinks his soda. Inside me, everything is in turmoil as I absorb his words, staring at the scars on her neck and wrists.
"How long have you been here, Charles?" I ask firmly, still in disbelief over so much cruelty.
The boy blinks, confused, looking at me.
"How old were you when you met?" Fredo asks softly, staring at the boy.
"I think I was seven. I don’t remember my age very well... But Selly was five, she told Bel..." he says quietly. "I must be twelve now, and Selly’s ten..."
He sighs, leaning his back against the wall, resting his arm on her legs, protecting her. I see her small face turn to me. She’s malnourished, with a scared look, not resembling a ten-year-old. Hunger and misery make her look, at most, seven because of her bony, thin face.
"Jake..." Fredo says softly, making me look at him. "We can’t just leave..."
"No, no! Don’t even try, Fredo." I shake my head, recognizing the look on his face. "Let’s go."
I turn my back to them, walking away, with Fredo picking up his pace to follow me.
"Jack, we can’t just turn our backs and walk away..."
"What I can’t do is feed two more mouths," I say firmly.
The only thing bigger than Fredo’s bad temper is the soft heart he hides in his chest. He can’t see a wounded, hurt, or abandoned creature without wanting to take it home.
"Jack..."
"No." I keep walking, more direct. "Just seconds ago, you wanted to throw the boy over your knees and teach him a lesson."
"Yeah, and I still do..." Fredo grabs my coat, making me stop. "But right now, you can’t ask me to get into that truck and leave, knowing we’re leaving two kids out in the cold on Christmas Eve."
"Don’t tell me your Christmas spirit is kicking in!" I grit my teeth, sarcastic.
"No, I just know they won’t last until the next season."
His gaze is sad as he looks at me. "My mother threw me in a dumpster when I was born, when she saw the freak she gave birth to. If a man hadn’t found me in that dumpster, I would’ve died, Jack. And I know you’ve got the same kindness in your heart that man did..."
"That was a low blow," I growl, glaring at him for using my father to try and convince me to take the kids with us.
"What did you expect? I’m four foot five." He laughs, giving me a sly look. "Remember what the old man used to say? The circus always takes care of its own. You saw it—the little brat’s got talent for acrobatics. He just needs training, discipline, and a lot of manners, but he’s got talent. And the girl—we both know a fortune-teller who’ll be enchanted by her... They’re two lost souls, Jack. And the circus takes in all the lost souls looking for a home..."
"Shit, Fredo!" I groan, closing my eyes and shaking my head as I turn and walk out of the building.