Angels of Darkness

around the neck and hung on with surprisingly fierce strength.
    Karina scooped her off the couch and held her close, afraid to hug the tiny body too hard. “I’m here, baby. I love you.” Emily never said “mommy.” It was always “mom.”
    â€œYou won’t leave?”
    A hard knot formed in Karina’s throat. “Leaving” was Emily’s euphemism for dying. Her daughter thought she had died.
    â€œI will try very hard not to,” she promised.
    Emily hung on, and Karina gently carried her into the kitchen. “I made your favorite apples.”
    Slowly Emily’s hold on her neck eased. A few seconds later she allowed herself to be put into a chair at the table.
    Daniel marched into the kitchen. “Food.”
    Henry nodded. “Yes.”
    Daniel pulled out a chair, sat, and reached for the pancakes.
    â€œLet’s wait for Lucas,” Henry said.
    â€œFuck Lucas.”
    Karina looked at Daniel. Henry sighed. Daniel looked back at them, glanced at Emily, and shrugged. “They don’t like it that I swear. Do you mind if I swear?”
    Emily shook her head.
    â€œSee, she doesn’t mind.”
    Lucas loomed in the doorway. One moment it was empty and the next he was just there, green eyes watching her every move with a hungry light. Karina took her chair, trying to ignore it, but his gaze clasped her like an invisible chain. She looked back at him. Yes, I belong to you. You don’t have to ram it down my throat.
    Emily’s eyes had grown big. She shied a little when Lucas stepped to the table, aware of his movements. Karina read fear in her daughter’s face and reached over to hold her hand. He’d given Emily no reason to fear him, yet she was clearly scared, almost as if she sensed on some primal level that he was a threat.
    Lucas sat next to Karina, opposite of Daniel, and reached for the pancakes. She watched him load his plate: four pancakes, four links of sausage, six strips of bacon . . . The plate would hold no more. He pondered it, frustrated, then piled the apples atop the pancakes and drenched the whole thing in maple syrup.
    It was good that she had made enough for ten people.
    Lucas sliced pancakes with his fork, pierced a slice of the apple, and maneuvered the whole thing into his mouth. Karina sat on the edge of her seat, listening to the elevated tempo of her own heartbeat, watching him chew, and waited for him to throw the plate across the table. She wanted them to like the food; no, she desperately needed the three of them to like the food. Her survival depended on it.
    Lucas swallowed. “Good,” he said and reached for more.
    Karina slumped a little in her chair, unable to hide her relief.
    â€œGood? It’s fucking divine,” Daniel said. “It’s the first decent meal we’ve had in weeks.”
    Lucas leveled a heavy stare at him but said nothing.
    â€œMom,” Emily said.
    â€œWhat, baby?”
    â€œI left my backpack at Jill’s house. It has my school stuff in it.”
    The three men ate, watching her.
    â€œThat will be okay, baby,” Karina said. “You have to change schools anyway.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause we live here now and you’ll go to a special school.” The words came out painfully.
    â€œDo I have to ride the bus?”
    Karina swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. Acknowledging where they were was hard, as if she were driving nails into her own coffin. “No.”
    â€œWhy do we have to stay here?”
    â€œThis is where I work now.”
    â€œYour mother is a slave,” Daniel said. “Lucas owns her.”
    If only she could have reached across the table, she would have hit him with a closed fist so it would hurt. Karina forced neutrality into her face, pulling it on like a mask. Show nothing. Betray no weakness.
    â€œIs a slave better than a payroll supervisor?” Emily asked.
    â€œThey’re not that different,” Karina lied. So many times before she had thought she worked like a slave, pulling in long hours, picking up project after project, perpetually behind, trying to get to the bottom of her to-do stack. She thought she had experienced the worst life could throw at her. All of it seemed so pointless now. Her memories belonged to someone else, a happier, flightier, younger person. She had a new life now and new priorities, chief of which was the welfare of her daughter. She had to