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Marcos flinched. His father never really yelled, but the man could take a certain tone that made Marcos suitably frightened. He held up his glass of milk. “I’m sorry,” he tried. “I couldn’t sleep, so...”

“Well, hurry back to bed.”

Marcos looked up at his father and frowned. “Pa. Um... are we in danger?”

The man gave a sigh of irritation. “You were eavesdropping.”

Marcos looked at the floor.

“It’s nothing that you need to worry about,” his father said, a modicum more softly. “That’s a job for your mother and I.”

“But...”

He patted his son on the head. “Marcos. You know the world is dangerous. I can’t promise you that nothing bad will ever happen. Your mother would kill me if I lied to you like that.” He knelt down to look his son in the eye. “But you are an Elroy. A Rainlord. And what do the Rainlords say? What have we always said?”

“‘The rain fears not the torch.’”

“Yes. And what does that mean?”

Marcos remembered asking that same question. He remembered his father’s answer equally well and now chose to repeat it. “It means we don’t run from danger. We destroy it.”

“That’s right. All of us. Even while I’m away, your mother will be here, and you know she won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will your brother. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, ensir.”

“Good. Now with that said, we are not in any danger that we know of. I would tell you if we were. Do you believe me?”

He wasn’t really sure he did, but he still said, “Yes, ensir.”

“There’s a good boy. Back to bed now. Off you go.”

He nodded and downed the rest of his milk before returning to his room. He didn’t feel all that comforted, really, but he still fell asleep after a fashion. When he awoke, he was able to see the Lord Elroy off before school. As he watched the man drive away, Marcos frowned and wondered who would be there to prevent anything from happening to his father.