Chev had removed his as well, and he sprinted to Beth, grabbed her ear, and dragged her from Roz’s sunbeam. My eyes burned in the light. Chev swung her by the ear into my arms. He narrowed his black eyes to see, and glowered. “Your duty is to raise her as Kindred. If you fail in this duty, you will be banished. I’ll raise her myself. Properly.”

Beth clutched at the redness of her ear peeking from between her curls.

Dane stood from where he’d cleared the concrete from Roz’s crushed form. Raw pinkness bubbled up from where she had folded. “You can’t banish a Kindred, Chev. And even if you could, you shouldn’t. We need every Kindred who comes to us.”

“If you could see her eyes right now, Dane, you’d know she isn’t one of us.”

Beth’s eyes were as wide and blue as the sky. Sunlight danced across their shining surfaces. My own eyes had stopped burning, and I stared in wonder at the way the concrete dust sparkled in the beam of light.

“Change takes time,” Dane said. He hefted Roz into his arms. “I only hope we’ve got enough time.” He walked into the tunnel, heading for the Last Drain, the final resting spot of all Kindred.

Beth handed me a bouquet of Roz’s buttercups. She grinned. Light glinted off her snaggletooth smile. “Your eyes are green,” she said.

***

Roz’s tarp was patched, washed and folded, and handed to Chev at the next meeting, ready to be given to the next child, whenever one might come to us.

Beth sat in Roz’s empty chair. Chev overlooked it, though his brow lowered at the breach in decorum. There were now more chairs than elders.

Chev stood with his fists clenched in his coat pockets. “We are here to discuss new openings found to the street above. Has anyone witnessed promising new fishing grounds?”

No one answered. Beth toyed with a strand of yarn that had unraveled from the cuff of her cardigan. Her black eyes roved over the circle of elders. “Have you checked at the new museum?” She flinched as all eyes turned to her. I reached for her hand.

“What museum, child?” Belle asked.

“There’s a new children’s learning center, up on Wilson Stree—”

“We do not name streets here,” Chev bellowed, his voice frothing into a white cloud in front of his mouth.

Beth stared at him. The soft lines of her face hardened. “In the far west sector, there is a new children’s museum. They have a large parking lot, and a playground. The concrete is fresh. It may crack when it settles.”

Dane stood. “I have no new fissures to report in the far west sector. But I will check there often in the next few weeks.” He nodded his thanks to Beth.