The Errant Flock by Jana Petken Read Free Book Online Page A

scream jolted David’s calm. He had to shut her up. The man on the floor was in his way. He rolled the body aside with the sole of his shoe and then put his knee on top of the bed. Straddling the mother, with his hand covering her mouth, he wondered if he should slit his own throat. That would be easier than slashing hers. For a split second, he was conscious of her flushed, tear-stained face filled with grief. He blinked the image away, threw his sword onto the bed cover, and reached for his long dagger.
    For a brief moment, his hand slackened on her lips. When he heard her moan, his heart broke. He wouldn’t look at her again. Reaching out, he felt her face, and then he tipped her head backwards and sliced her throat in a simple circular cut from ear to ear.
    His legs still straddled the woman, and his breathing came in short, sharp bursts as he looked dazedly around him in horror. He looked at the dagger, his bloodstained sword, the woman, and finally at the dead man on the floor. He moved to get up, but his legs had become entangled in the bed covers. His frantic efforts to free himself only delayed him further. He stopped moving, looked up, and felt his breath catch in his throat. A crucifix sat on the wall behind the bed. He stared at it for a second and then wept for the first time since childhood.

 
    Chapter Six
     
    David’s hands and legs were trembling, but his mind was calmer and clearer. His only job now was to get the baby out of the house and back to Garcia before every street around there was filled with people.
    There had been enough valuable time wasted. He couldn’t stay here all night, weeping and cursing and apologising to the people he had just murdered. He’d not been able to pull himself out of the blackness. He’d drowned in it, unable to breathe or see a spark of light … He hated himself. He was a monster.
    After using the bedcover to wipe the bloody dagger and sword clean, he secured them on his belt. Lifting the baby, he covered its head with the blanket and cradled it in his arm, underneath the folds of his cloak. As he reached the door, he stopped abruptly and spun around. His eyes darted to every corner of the room. The sound had been faint, but he’d heard something.
    He laid the baby down again, stood perfectly still, and listened. A child was sobbing. At that moment, the infant stirred and began to wail. He lifted it and rocked it in his arms. His eyes were drawn back to the curtained partition at the far end of the room. He had not taken much notice of it before, for most houses hung linen or hemp sheeting to hide clothes, tools, and cooking utensils.
    Drawing his dagger, he tiptoed towards it and pulled back the curtain. Sitting on a narrow cot was a child not more than three years old. David moaned at the sight of her. “Oh dear God, no.” Her legs were drawn up to her chest. Her head was downcast, and her small face was partially hidden between the fold of her arms, lying across her knees. He’d been careless in believing the father, who had stated that the child was dead, but at the time, there had been no reason to doubt him. The little girl had not uttered a sound the entire time he’d been here ... Not so much as a whimper.
    Tears gathered in his eyes. “No, no,” he repeated in a whisper. “No, I can’t. Not a child … Never!” He knelt down and gently touched the girl’s arm. “Shh, I won’t hurt you. I promise you that everything will be all right. You have to come with me,” he added without thinking.
    “No, Papa … Mama …,” she cried. She lifted her head and looked at David’s face, staring kindly into her own. She stared at the baby and then back at David. Teardrops from large brown eyes still sat on her flushed cheeks. Her pouting lips quivered in fear as she continued to gaze at the giant of a man kneeling before her. She sat up, looked past him, and opened her mouth in horror.
    Pulling her to his chest, he shielded her eyes from the horrific