Page 63 (1/2)

Balthazar wore a clothhis "rounds" Although he of course could not contract the flu--death provided the only absolute im it Everyone wore the masks now in a futile effort to keep the epideh-collared shirt, and low-brilasses allowed hion farther down the road took a small bundle wrapped in a sheet and tossed it uncere child, dead in a city that no longer had the wood for coffins

Witnessing the devastation of the influenza hadbeyond providing atheuesswork; anything approaching an actual drug had been condemned as witchcraft But in the twentieth century, maybe he’d have the opportunity to learn er of death

For now, though, death was his only gift

As he approached the house he sought, he saw a young nurse walking along, white headdress falling past her cheeks, a basket of food for the sick clutched in her hands She was the first legitimate medical professional he’d seen in days; the feeren’t ill were too busy to leave the clinics Balthazar raised a hand to her in greeting, but she stopped in her tracks as if startled

Above her nized Charity’s eyes

The first words Balthazar could find were: "Where’s Redgrave?"

"France" She said this in her tiniest, most childlike voice

Of course he would still be on the battlefields Balthazar relished the spoils of war, the way any va the oceanwas too rave "Are you alone in Philadelphia?"

Charity shook her head "Constantia’s here, too The others stayed with Redgrave"

Disappointing that she wasn’t entirely alone, but not surprising: Balthazar could tell just frouise that someone had helped her with it Still, this was the closest to freedom Charity had come since the day of her death--and Balthazar’s best chance to help her

She hadn’t attacked hier Was it possible his sister was finally ready to be helped?

"Let’s go," he said "You and ht away"

"Go where?"