Field of Blood by Wilson, Eric (dar e dil novel online reading .TXT) 📗

“I want to help you,” she said.

“I’m cold.”

“What’s your name?”

“Dov,” he said. “My mother is Dalia Amit, and she is . . .”

“What, Dov? What is it? You can talk to me.”

“I did a bad thing, and if they find me, I will die.”

Gina knew in America this would be information warranting investigation, corroboration, and a report to the authorities. This was Romania, though, where remnants of communist corruption under-pinned much of the political framework.

And he was Lettered. There was something else at work here.

“Shhh,” she said. “It’s okay, Dov. Don’t say another word.”

Gina had already experienced firsthand the deadly results of that symbol. This child was in imminent danger, and she wondered how he had avoided trouble this long. Her heart told her to wash her hands of the matter. What if she failed this boy? As she’d failed her own son. She could not endure another—

No. Her own feelings were not the issue here.

She had to protect him. Hide him. Fight for him, if necessary.

She started with Teo, swearing him to secrecy regarding this child’s puzzling confession. She had her reasons, and he would have to trust her on this one. Teo reminded her that he had cared for her dog. Which was good enough for her.

A new year was upon them. A new millennium, in fact.

“Don’t you see?” Gina pleaded. “This boy needs a fresh start.”

The headmaster at the orphanage was unmoved. “We see this sort of thing every day, Ms. Lazarescu. It’s always difficult for new muncitors to comprehend, but we cannot take in strays off the streets. Now, please hear me out. It sounds heartless, I’m sure, to your ears, but it’s for the best of those we’re already treating. Medical supplies are low as it is, and we can scarcely acquire enough Fuzeon to inject the worst of our HIV cases.”

Gina thought of Dov Amit, seated in the corridor outside. She’d looked into his past, verified his orphaned status. She could not allow him to be abandoned.

“You must understand,” the headmaster prattled on, “the strain that even one more ward would put upon our staff and the other kids, not to mention the financial supporters of this institution. It’s simply out of the question.”

Gina stared straight ahead. Her tongue—working along her teeth, counting, counting. Upper left incisor? One act of kindness.

“I appreciate your concern, of course, but this is not like the United States you have become used to, where money grows upon trees.”

“It’s not like that there either,” she said.

“Well, Ms. Lazarescu, I’m sure you see my point. Let me explain the history and purpose of Tomorrow’s Hope . . .”

Gina tuned out the man’s voice, running mentally over the city archives she’d checked during her off time. She had confirmed the identities of Dov’s parents, as well as their unexplained disappearances two and a half years prior.

Records showed that a Mr. Benyamin Amit’s Peugot was found deserted near the ruins at Soimos. His scoped rifle was entered as evidence from the site. No other sign of him was ever found. According to a detective’s notes, his wife and son had traveled in a taxicab to the same area that evening, disembarking near Totorcea Vineyards. They, too, had vanished.

When the vineyard owners were questioned about this matter, Mrs. Helene Totorcea told the authorities she had known the Amits from her work at city hall but had no knowledge of their whereabouts. Mr. Flavius Totorcea authorized a property search, and the local constabulary found nothing to substantiate their suspicions. On the list of priorities, the case slipped to the bottom.

Nearly thirty months later? Here was the boy, scavenging the streets, and alive.

Gina wondered what Dov had gone through and how he had lost his left pinky toe. She and the center’s nurse had already cleaned and bandaged the near-gangrenous gash, but it hinted at unspoken horrors. It also under-scored Gina’s worries that he would be next in line for a Collector attack.

Cal’s voice: “The Letter appears at adulthood. For boys, that’s age thirteen.”

According to the archives’ dates, Dov had turned thirteen days after his parents’ disappearance. Had he eluded observation since the emerging of the mark? Was he aware of it? What would happen if his identity were to be discovered?

“Sir, this has to work,” Gina said to the headmaster. She was deter-mined that Tomorrow’s Hope was Dov’s hope for today. “This boy, this young man, is fifteen now, and yet he shows all the signs of a psychologically scarred individual. Even physically, he’s small for his age. I appreciate the job I see being done here. The orphanage does a great service, and I only want to continue in that vein.”

“Of course you do. Any good muncitor has a heart for children, but—”

“I’ll donate my weekly stipend,” she said.

“Excuse me, Ms. Lazarescu?”

One act of kindness . . .

“My money. What do I need it for, right? I have a place to sleep, eat. I’ve got the kids. Take it. Use that to cover his expenses, and we have a deal.”

“You will give a portion of your salary to sponsor this child’s place in our center? A kind gesture, indeed. Though I wasn’t aware we were in negotiations.”

“We’re not,” Gina said. “I throw myself—and my money—upon your mercy.”

The headmaster chewed on the inside of his cheek, his lined face doleful and judicial. “It’s a deal,” he said at last. “I like you. You do well with the children. Don’t make me regret this.”

CHAPTER

FORTY-NINE

Gina’s dread was a sliver lodged in her mind. She had to keep Dov safe.

There were days she helped in the center’s kitchen or played volleyball in the yard with the kids and realized she’d never once felt that sting of fear. Other days, she would be jolted by the sight of a mother cooing to her baby, and it would set the sliver throbbing for hours.

One brisk day in March, while browsing outside a bookshop near the old Water Tower, she glanced up to see