Black Bird of the Gallows(35)

Really not necessary on my account, but my dad is twitching. As if I’ve never seen a shirtless boy before. In case my dad’s spidey-sense is going haywire, I do the polite thing and drag my gaze to the floor until Reece’s retreating footsteps sound on the stairs.

Lucy leads us to the kitchen, where the smells are mouthwatering. It’s organized chaos in here, noisy with laughter and argument, joy and conflict. A toddler introduced as James sits in a booster seat wearing a large plastic bib. An older woman, Aunt Jean, wipes a wet cloth over his food-smeared face and tells the two kids, Fiona and Paxton, to sit on their backsides, not on their feet. They do as they’re told without pausing a heated debate over whether elephants peel bananas or eat them whole. Or eat them at all.

A young woman, Brooke, stands at the stove. She looks older than me—maybe college-aged. I am completely envious of the funky space-print apron she’s wearing. My dad eyes the ingredients set out on the counter—all the forbidden foods—and winces but says nothing.

Lucy nudges us into seats and sets plates full of pancakes in front of us. They’re made with buttermilk, I’m sure of it, and is that actual butter melting on top of them? With more on the table to smear on top. I check myself from devouring them like an animal. Use the fork! My dad looks conflicted for a few seconds, but he, too, picks up his fork and digs in. Smart of him. He’d sound like an ass trying to explain his dairy boycott to these sensible people.

I close my eyes and savor a bite of pancake. Oh, yum.

There’s a shadow and a little breeze to my right, and I open my eyes as Reece drops into the seat next to me. He’s still wearing the sweatpants, but his hair is smoothed down, and a wrinkled blue T-shirt covers his torso. I’m left to speculate about the underwear as I chew a blissful bite.

Brooke brings him a full plate and tousles his hair. “Morning, asshole.”

“Thanks.” He turns the grin to me and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “She makes amazing pancakes.”

“Yes, she does,” I agree fervently. “They’re the best ever.”

Dad frowns. “I make good pancakes.”

I give him a level look. “Sorry, Dad. You make them with whole wheat flour. And no milk or butter.”

My dad straightens and prepares to launch into his healthy-body speech, but Lucy sits down next to him, and he thinks better of it.

Reece leans toward me. His breath brushes my cheek, and I forget to chew.

“No milk or butter?” he asks.

“No dairy in any form.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “He thinks dairy impedes the body’s immune system and causes inflammation.”

“Inflammation of what?”

I let out a chuckle. “I don’t want to know.”

He smiles back, and his eyes go warm and heavy. They’re still a little sleep-puffed and there’s an intimacy in seeing him like this, freshly woken, carrying the smells of fabric softener and toothpaste. His arm skims mine. Zing! What is it about this guy that obliterates every coherent thought in my head?

Thankfully, my incoherence is brief. The heavy cloud of Reece’s secret is always there, scratching around in the dark corners of my mind. I wish we could just be friends like normal people. But Reece isn’t normal. I’m beginning to think I’m not, either.

James smiles and points a sticky finger toward me. Reece’s black eyes flicker to Brooke, who sits across the table with her own plate of pancakes. They exchange a look I can’t interpret, but as I glance from one to the other, then to the other Fernandezes, I notice something that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

All these people—every single one of them—have the same black eyes, even though none of them are related by blood. The curse that makes them harbingers of death must affect them all the same way.

“Are you finished?” Reece asks me.

I jolt at his voice, but nod. Reece rises and puts our plates in the sink.

“I’d like to give Angie a tour of the house, if that’s okay.” He directs his words to my father, which is smart of him, but everyone pauses and stares at us. Even the toddler quietly watches with strange, thoughtful eyes. Too intense for a person that young. Too aware.

Reece offers a crooked smile and a shrug. “She must have some bad thoughts about what happened here with the previous owners. I thought she’d like to see how changed it is.”

I hold my breath as Dad gives Reece a very dad look. My father is not used to dealing with me, dealing with boys. He’s never considered Deno anything to be concerned with, but Reece is not a boy to be dismissed. Dad takes his time before nodding. “Sure. Of course.” He gives me a meaningful look. “Don’t get lost.”

“I won’t.” I rise with a little too much bounce, so eager to get out of this room. Away from that toddler with the too-intelligent eyes.

The moment we’re away from the kitchen, Reece’s hand wraps around mine. His fingers are warm and strong. My mouth goes dry as dust.

He tugs me forward. “I’m showing you my room first.” He grins at my instant hesitancy. “Not scared, are you?”





15-the rabbit hole


My dad would not be thrilled with this turn of events. Reece leads me to the stairs and straight up. My pulse pounds, my palms are clammy, but I go with him.

Because I am curious, and attracted, and excited. And a little scared.