Black Bird of the Gallows(51)

Hank inclines his head. “I had no other way to show you that I meant you no harm. I found these little things and I hoped you would not feel threatened by me.”

An earring, a quarter, a flower, a bow. All things he gave me when I was a child. I can’t come up with a quick response, not even a thank-you. I just stare at him.

He shifts on his awkward, clawed feet. His knees bend backward, like a bird’s. It must be terribly uncomfortable to stand like this.

“I would have brought better things,” he says in a rough voice, “but I am limited by what I can find and carry in a bird’s beak.”

“No, they’re amazing,” I choke out. “Thank you. I love them. But you…” I swallow. “What happened to you?”

He turns so the crow eye is angled away. “Just a small taste of what I deserve. Punishment for not saving her.”

We both know he’s referring to my mother. “No one could. She was an addict.”

His dark eye seems to sink deeper into his head. From this angle, his face is the same. As a kid, I considered his face the gauge of true handsomeness. I adored his southern drawl and his easy smile. No one compared. Now, I see the sad, downturned edges of his mouth. The white hair that had once been dark brown. The ridges of grief etched into his face. The patches of black feathers covering most of his misshapen body.

He shakes his head wretchedly. “No. I was given a choice. I chose wrong and was punished for it.”

“Back up,” I say. “What choice? What could you have possibly done?”

“Your mom was staying in a marked town. That’s when I met her. That’s how a harbinger of death meets anyone, you know. Your parents were split up for a while when you were around a year old. I fell for her instantly. It didn’t matter to me that she had you and was still in love with your daddy. I was happy to be her rebound guy. I couldn’t stick around anyway…”

Hank’s human eye tightens with the memories. This reminiscing is costing him, opening old, painful wounds. He swallows with effort. “Your mom was making noises about going back to your dad, settling down. That you needed a stable home. I was all for it. I had a sense that the mark on the town we were in was about to expire, and I wanted her out of there when disaster struck.”

“Where was I?” I ask.

“Your dad’s parents had taken you for a week, while she was getting her head straight and figuring out what to do. And it was around that time when Rafette noticed how smitten I was and offered to keep her safe—no rules against a Beekeeper saving someone, you know. Only harbingers. Anyhow, in return, he said I had to take the Beekeeper’s curse. Thought that would free him. I didn’t believe a word of it. Also didn’t think he’d keep his word.”

He rubs his hand over his face, grief etched into every line. “The mark on that town turned out to be a fire in the motel your mom was staying at, as she was supposed to die in it. There’re rules—ancient ones—that forbid us from directly interfering with the dying, but I lost my fool head and pulled her out, thinking no one was watching. No one would care about the fate of one woman. I couldn’t stand to let her die like that, to make her baby girl an orphan. But someone was watching. Someone who knew the rules and had the power to punish.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Angie. I should have gotten her to leave sooner. I should’ve—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Hank,” I said, emotion thickening my voice. “You saved her life. But who…‘punished’ you?” I ask. “Was it Rafette?”

“Something far worse.” He smiles bitterly. “Angie, there’re more than just harbingers and Beekeepers at work in this world. Quieter, darker entities with far more power than us. One of these beings—one as ancient as Rafette, but more deeply cursed and with darker intentions—twisted my curse, condemning me to this half-life.” He spreads his one arm and one wing. “This is what Reece may be doomed to, should he try to interfere with the course of events to come here.”

My lips go numb. My heart pounds like a timpani drum in my head. “But my mother was stung. I saw her features in Rafette’s face.”

“He sent a bee to sting her, yes,” he says. “Said his bees chose her and not him, but I think he did it out of spite, revenge. Because I refused him.”

I drag in a breath and lean against the nearest tree. My legs feel like jelly. I need to sit. I need… “She didn’t try to hurt me or anyone. How?”

“Obviously, the drugs dulled that part of her brain. But I believe she had some unique biology that helped—she was a true, gifted psychic, so magic ran through her veins. The bees target those who are mentally unwell, compounding the imbalance already present, turning it into something twisted and dangerous. I don’t know, Angie. Maybe your mom was targeted by the bees and not Rafette.” His gaze rests on me fondly. He smiles, crinkling the skin around his eyes. “We’ll never know, but either way, she found the strength to fight the venom because of her love for you.”

“Love for me?” I almost choke on that, it’s so ridiculous. “She barely knew I was there half the time. We had no home. We lived in that horrible van when we weren’t shacked up with some creepy guy. And you think she loved me.”

“I know she loved you. More than herself. More than anything.”