Black Bird of the Gallows(38)

I take a long, deep breath. “Are you like a-a vampire?”

He snorts out a laugh. “No. I don’t stay young forever. I can die as easily as you. I have no superpowers and, despite how often I must see it, I do not enjoy the sight of blood.”

“It didn’t look that way the other night.”

Pain slides over his features, making him look older, weary. “It’s survival. And living like this is not pleasant. We have an extra sense that foretells where death is coming and we go there to meet it. We’re always moving to the next disaster or massacre or whatever. And we die a lot. That’s not fun at all.”

My mouth goes dry. “So after whatever terrible thing happens in Cadence is over, you’ll just leave, if you…survive it?”

He nods. “We’ll turn back into crows and seek out the next marked town or street or building.” He pauses, shrugs. “Of course, some of us in human form will possibly die. When our human form dies, we sort of…respawn as a crow, and we stay that way for a while. The time frame varies—sometimes a week, sometimes a year—before we can change back to human form. But when we regain human form, we’re at a younger age. James, Fiona, and Paxton all died in a fire we were at last year. They just regained their human forms a few months ago. James came back unusually young, which is inconvenient for all of us. We have to grow up from childhood over and over again. It’s pretty awful.” He notices my slightly gaping mouth and cocks his head. “What? You’re the one with all the questions. I’m just obliging the lady.”

“Obliging the lady?” I raise my brows. “What century are you from?”

“That term isn’t that old.” He frowns at the floor. “Or maybe it is. It’s not easy, keeping current on everything. The decades sort of, well, blend.”

He sounds impossibly old now, contemplating the passage of time. For the first time, I get a sense of all he’s seen, all he’s experienced, much of it through the eyes of a child. “That toddler, James?” I ask. “Is it typical to come back that young?”

Reece shakes his head. “Nah, we usually don’t come back that young. James has been a harbinger for the longest of us—almost five hundred years. That could have something to do with it.” He looks at me intently, as if searching for something. “Last time I died, I returned as a six-year-old.”

My poor spinning head. The worst part is, the thing that’s sticking pins in my heart is that he’ll be leaving. I should be focused on the dying part. I should be much more interested in the disaster that’s soon to hit Cadence. But no, I’m worried about a broken heart. So selfish.

So much like my mother.

I shiver at the thought. Can’t go there. Not now.

Reece leans forward, reaches for me, then drops his hand. “I’d give anything to be a normal boy. To stay. Go to prom with you. But even one of the reasons why I’m drawn to you is because I’m attracted to death.”

My skin chills. “What do you mean?”

He pauses with a resigned sigh. “Death, tragedy, has a certain vibe to it. It makes people uneasy. It’s why no one wanted to live in the Ortleys’ house, but it’s exactly why we feel so comfortable there. Death has a distinct…aroma to a harbinger of death. To us, death is life. In the same way, you wear the misery and tragedy of your past like a second skin. Suffering has a very strong…scent.”

I jerk back. “I smell?”

“Yes, but in a good way.” His eyes widen. “Don’t worry.”

I don’t see how that’s possible. “What does it smell like?” Good grief, why am I asking this?

He pauses. “I really can’t describe it.”

“You mean it’s so bad you don’t want to.”

“No!” He reaches toward me when I cover my mouth, then drops his hand. “As I said before, it drew me to you. But it’s only one reason.”

The first prick of tears burns my eyes. No! I will not cry! “So, you want to be around me because I’m…miserable?”

“You’re not miserable,” he says quietly, urgently. “There’s a difference between enduring hardship and absorbing it. You’ve endured. You experienced more sadness and pain as a child than most people do in their whole lives. The odds you’ve beaten are astronomical. You have no idea how strong you are.” He smiles, faintly. “Maybe someday you will, and you won’t hide your greatest talent behind a disguise.”

I shrink back, away from him. From this. I don’t want insights into my soul. It’s intrusive, poking dangerously close to wounds that don’t heal, reminding me of aches I’ve lived with for so long, they are my state of normal. I don’t want to remember them. Ever.

My shoulders jerk in an awkward shrug. “I have to admit, it’s a lot to take in.” My voice is forced air, higher and lighter than this conversation deserves.

I tuck my hands under my legs. They’re shaking, and I don’t want him to see. If not for my experiences in the past few weeks, I would be suggesting he find a psychotherapist with a thick prescription pad.

But the things I saw were real. And Reece is deadly serious about them.

“How did you become this way?” I ask in a whisper.

Reece’s eyes darken and turn unreadable. “I don’t want to say, considering your feelings regarding magic.”