Black Bird of the Gallows(29)
And crashed ones with dead people inside.
Something cold skitters down my back. He did admit to being attracted to death, but he’s on crack if he thinks I’m ever going to let him drive my mom’s van. He flashes me a wide smile and reaches for his discarded gear. “You’re a puzzle, you know that?”
I roll my eyes and hit the trunk button on the key. He must be joking. Of the two of us, I am not the puzzle. “I’m sorry, who is the harbinger of death here?”
Reece grins. “Good point.” He dumps his hockey stuff in the trunk and climbs into the passenger seat. For the second time this week, he fills up the front half of the car with the smell of pine and clean air on a spring day. Smelling nice doesn’t cancel out my nerves, though. I’m wound tight as a coil. My hands keep a death grip on the steering wheel, and I’m not even driving yet.
“Do you know where the ice rink is?” he asks.
“I’ve lived here for five years,” I reply. “I know where everything is.”
He lets out a sigh. “You’re angry with me.”
“Angry is a strong word,” I say, sounding an awful lot like Lacey. “More like frustrated.”
He nods. “I understand. I should never have told you those things then taken off like that. I apologize.”
So formal. So stiff. Fine. Two can play at that. “You can’t basically admit that you’re not human and not expect follow-up questions.”
“I know it.” He slants me a look. “You shouldn’t have followed me, but after what happened at The Strip Mall, I should’ve expected you’d want answers.”
“You said you were cursed. That magic was involved. Magic.” I shake my head. “How am I supposed to process that?”
“I get it. The present world has a specific view of reality, but it wasn’t always like that. Magic used to be as ubiquitous as wifi. It was everywhere, a part of everyday life. These days, people have been well conditioned to disbelieve magic, even when they see it with their own eyes. Tell me, what do you think the Beekeepers are, if not magical creatures?”
“Well, why isn’t it still around, then?”
He sighs and takes off his baseball hat. “It is. There are a few remnants of magic remaining from a far earlier time. You happened to come in contact with one. Or two, if you include me.”
“And the rest of it just…went away?”
“It was purged, but that’s a long, complicated story for another time. Maybe.”
I want to hear it, but my logical mind still really doesn’t like the word magic and reality used in the same utterance.
He rubs his chin and gives me a considering look. “Maybe it will help to put a name to the Beekeeper’s face, or rather, faces.” He grins, but my mouth stays flat. I do not see the humor. “So, the Beekeeper who approached you at The Strip Mall is named Rafette. He follows my family around. Most harbinger groups have a Beekeeper attached to them to one extent or another. Rafette’s been around a long time. He…has weird ideas about things sometimes. He likes to spy on people—good at it, too. He may have noticed how often I look at you and got curious.”
Um. I don’t like the idea of anyone spying on me at all, but the idea of that guy watching me without my knowledge twists my stomach in a knot. Also, I look at Reece plenty. This Rafette creature surely would have noticed that. I clear my throat. “Curious about what?”
He blinks a few times, as if the answer is so plain, he can’t fathom why I’m asking. “About whether or not I’m interested in you.”
“Hmm.” Okay. Don’t ask, Angie. Do. Not. Ask. “So, are you…?”
He looks straight out the windshield. “I really can’t make it more obvious.”
Yeah, he could. “You avoided me all week.”
“This is confusing for me, too.” Reece waves his phone with the time displayed. “I don’t mean to rush, but practice starts at six, and I can’t be late tonight.” A flush rides his high cheekbones. He looks at me and away, as if he’s unsettled. Or possibly nervous. Meanwhile, my nerves are riding so high, they’re making me want to laugh. The boy likes me. This boy. This harbinger of death who has already told me that my town is going to be hit by some sort of disaster and he’ll be leaving in a month or so after this happens. The giddy rush slipping around under my skin is so unbelievably irrational, it is funny, in the most screwed-up way possible. I clamp my teeth on my bottom lip until it hurts and back out of the garage wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Reece is one big walking complication. I still don’t really know what his feelings are. He may think he’s “obvious,” but the boy is about as clear as a wood door.
He fiddles with his phone. “I won’t let Rafette near you again. One of my family members, Hank, keeps an eye out for him when I can’t. I just…thought you should know.”
Hank. My mom dated a guy named Hank once. He was nice, something I can’t say for any of my mom’s other boyfriends. He’d left, of course. Or we had. It was an on again, off again type of thing. Either way, the end result was the same.
I force my shoulders down and back and steal a glance at Reece. He’s got a killer profile. Angular and strong, like it belongs on a coin. Or leading an army to battle. What has he been through? Remembering Hank brings the past surging into the present, and suddenly something about Reece feels achingly familiar. A memory just out of reach, or perhaps I’ve thought about him so much this past week, I think I know him better than I do.