Chapter Five
“ Clem, what are you doing here?” I ask the little girl as she immediately attempts to wiggle out of my grip.
“ I was cold, Boone,” she grunts as she continues to shimmy her tiny frame relentlessly.
I shake my head as I set her back down on her bare feet. Blowing out a breath, I run a hand down over my face, trying my best not to become irritable. I know what she means by cold , and it ’ s not the same thing that affects me. She ’ s a lot like Elyse and usually takes better care of herself, so I know there ’ s more to her being in my home than just cold .
“ Where are your manners, Clem? Don ’ t you know you ’ re supposed to knock on a door and not break into a home? What if I had my gun? I could have shot first and asked questions never,” I admonish her as I drop to one knee and tilt her pointy chin up to look at me. She grunts and crosses her arms over her chest, lower lip pouting far out, and eyes so slit, they barely look open anymore.
“ I did knock! You didn’t open the door, so I came in,” she huffs before spinning on her heel and going back to her equally small flame. Clem crouches down in front of it, holding her hands out to the little licks of fire dancing in front of her before rubbing them together and giving me a pleading look.
I smile as I get back to my feet and wander over to where she ’ s trying desperately to warm up. “ Hand me that,” I say to her, nodding at the poker leaning up against the wall. When she gives it to me, I grip it tightly in one hand, then pull her over to sit in my lap while I poke at the fire, showing her that some flames need to be stoked in order to burn brightly.
I ’ m sure it ’ s something she ’ s all too familiar with, but being as young as she is, I know that a little help every now and then is something she ’ s grateful for. Even if she is wiggling in my lap to get loose again.
Clem breaks free and reaches for another small stick, then holds it up, glancing at me with an arched eyebrow. I nod to let her know that it ’ s okay to toss it in, removing the poker from the fire. Once she ’ s satisfied that this stick will do the trick, she sits down next to me, and I hand her the instrument, letting her poke at the flames herself.
There will be a day when I ’ m not around to look after her anymore, and I want her to be able to do basic things like build a fire.
We sit in silence as we watch the fire grow, and each time there ’ s a small crackling sound, Clem looks over at me with a hopeful smile.
I grin at her, nodding to let her know that she ’ s done a great job and that I ’ m proud of her. I ’ m also proud of myself and relieved that this is one less thing I ’ ll have to worry about when I ’ m gone.
I watch her little mouth scrunch up as she clears her throat. “ What ’ s on your mind, Clem?” I ask her curiously.
“ I ’ m still cold,” she mutters, watching me from the corner of her eyes.
“ Come on, then,” I say, holding my arms out to her. Clemmy lets out a breath as she comes over and crawls into my lap, willingly this time. Resting her head against my chest, she lets out another huff, then gets comfortable.
Clementine Hunn is about seven years old—or, at least, she has been for a very long time now—trapped in the persona of a little girl with rosy cheeks, long, ash-blonde hair, and downturned, bright, hazel-blue eyes. Her body is as small as a child ’ s, but she ’ s stronger than most of the monsters in this damned town.
I guess whatever she ’ s got going on inside of her worked out for the best in a weird way.
“ You ever give any thought to what I said the other night?” I ask her, suddenly remembering our conversation. The thing about Clemmy is that if she wants someone to forget something, they have no choice but to. Mind eraser, I think as I rub her arms fondly, trying to warm up her cold skin.
“ Aw, Boone,” she grumbles, shoving her hair out of her eyes and looking up at me. “ Ain ’ t no one in this town that ’ ll take that seriously.”
“ The law is the law, Clem. And even though there hasn’t been much law around here lately, I promise you that I ’ ve set you up for better days once I ’ m gone.”
“ What if I don ’ t want you to go?” she asks as she throws herself dramatically against me. Clemmy ’ s arms grip me so damn tightly that I end up wincing.
She ’ s too strong for her own good sometimes but still has the mindset of a little girl most days, so I know she ’ s just looking for some comfort.
“ Some things can ’ t be helped, Clem,” I remind her gently.
“ Yes, they can!” she insists, her loud protest muffled by my chest.
“ Not this time, kid. It ’ ll be okay. I ’ m just waiting for…”
“ The Nightingale,” she finishes for me.
“ Elyse,” I correct her.
“ She likes being called Nightingale. You ’ re the one that doesn ’ t like it, but I swear she ’ s fine with it, Boone.”
“ How would you know that?” I ask her curiously.
“ Cause she told me when I saw her two days ago.”