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That doesn t reassure me, the older man grumbled. Take the truck. It ll get you there
quicker. Say goodbye to your mother?
Gentle s eyes darted to the porch where his mother stood, staring at him and wringing her
hands.
Mom&
Hello, again.
The Carvers all looked to their driveway. There was a man walking down it toward the
house. A bright red and purple truck parked on the roadside.
Fynn s gait was slow and leisurely, but Gentle couldn t see his hands. Like Ben s, the
carnie s hands spoke more to Gentle than the man himself. Now, they were concealing
something.
Enjoy the carnival, did you? he asked.
Gentle nodded slowly while he tried to look like he wasn t staring at the hands resting in
the man s jacket pockets.
Good. See the prince?
Gentle shook his head.
Fynn s gaze dropped to the bolt cutters in Gentle s fist. Going to see him now, are we?
Now, look here, Gentle s father warned. This is private property, I m going to have to
ask you to leave.
The carnie shook his head slowly. Can t do that, my good man. This conversation is
about my property. Listen, I m not unreasonable like.
Gentle bit the inside of his cheek to keep from responding.
Not like I can let the little blighter go, now is it? He s all wound up from being cooped
up so long, so it is. We d all be dead now, wouldn t we? I m honest, hard-working, gentleman
like. Lookin after my people, I am.
He was no more than five feet away from Gentle by the end of his speech, grinning and
personable. He set off alarms inside Gentle s head.
Around Gentle, the colors of the night shifted and dulled until they were blocked all
together by canvas. He was back in the carnival tent again, and there was blood dried and
matting dirty black hair, sticking Ronan s rags to his skin. The cage stank of piss and feces.
There was something carved into the Fae s back. Gentle couldn t tell what it was, so he carefully
pried the shirt from the wound. He choked on rage and tears.
Freak, it said in big jagged letters. Whore had been carved there too, but that word was
older, already scabbed over.
They need to justify my confinement, my Gentle. They needed to make me lesser,
inhumane, a monster.
Monster, he traced the healed but visible scar of that word as well. I hate them, he
hissed.
Do not hate them, Gentle one. You were not meant to hate.
Be you listening to me, lad?
Gentle snapped back to the present, staring down the barrel of a gun. No. I wasn t
listening.
Thought not.
Ice raced down Gentle s spine as he watched the trigger finger tighten.
A furious ball of auburn fur shot from the house. Chance latched onto Fynn s arm and the
gun went off. A bright flash of pain bloomed across Gentle s thigh. He fell to one knee, his
father instantly at his side. Fynn s guttural cries caused both men to look up, neither could look
away.
The collie had Fynn on the ground; his impressive jaws locked down on the carnie s
throat while the man wailed in pain. The arm that had raised the gun was snapped, almost bitten
in half, the skin torn from the bone.
What& ? Gentle s father gagged, unable to finish his question.
Chance, Gentle breathed in relief.
There s more than chance at work here, the older man argued.
Gentle was about to answer when he caught the glint of the yard light shining on metal in
the carnie s hand.
Chance! Come here, boy! Gentle ordered.
The dog wouldn t let go, it was holding on for dear life. For Gentle s life.
Gentle lunged forward, but the knife was faster. Chance yelped and bit down hard in his
pain. Gentle brought the bolt cutters down at the same time. With a growl and a horrible tearing
sound, the carnie stopped screaming.
Chance! He pressed his hand to the gash in the animal s side. Mom! Dad! Help me!
Son, his dad put a hand on his shoulder, there s nothing there.
Gentle pulled his shirt off and wrapped the dog tightly in it. Yes, there is. Fynn stabbed
him. Look at the blood! We have to get him to a vet.
No, Gentle, you don t understand& his father tried again.
It was his mother s hand, though, that finally got through to him. He looked up at her in
shock. Mom&
Your father doesn t mean there s no wound. He means there s no Chance. Honey, we
just watched that man get torn apart by nothing.
But Chance&
The fur beneath his hands receded, leaving only pale skin. The bright blue eyes glowed
and shifted; black hair pooled over Gentle s arms where he was holding Ronan.
Ro&
I told you I would watch you as long as I could. I have always watched over you.
Chance was the largest form I could project through your mind without opening the blocks I d
placed there and sentencing you to captivity once again. He was the best I could manage from so
far&
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