Black Bird of the Gallows(53)
“Not might—would. Reece would trade himself to the Beekeeper so your life may be spared. Reece has doubts this is possible, but Rafette thinks this is a sure bet. He’s picking out his curtains in hell.”
My stomach drops, twists into a knot. Reece fell in love with you, bit by bit… He was a little older than me. My recollections from before our playdates fade to basic forms, shapes. I was too little, too accustomed to chronic stress, to hold on to memories. I remember impressions, not details. He remembers everything.
“Do you think it’s possible?” I ask. “Can Rafette turn Reece into a Beekeeper and free himself?”
“I think he can,” he replies. “He wouldn’t be so intent on this course without good reason.”
“I won’t let a childhood crush ruin his life. Or mine.” My words are sluggish, as if my tongue is made of clay. They feel badly constructed because they are. The thing between Reece and me is not some flimsy crush. Hank knows it. I know it. It’s vital that Rafette doesn’t. Ever. I press a fist into my palm. “What do I have to do?”
“End it,” Hank says, simply. “And get out of this town until whatever is going to happen, happens.”
My heart squeezes, painfully. In a different life, under different circumstances, Reece and I would be at the start of something real. Maybe something forever. I’ve seen enough of the fake stuff to recognize the difference—it was all my mom could handle. I’m not sure what my feelings are for him yet, but ambivalence isn’t one of them. I’m attracted to him, and I care for him, too. Allowing him to turn into a monster like Rafette to save me is out the question. Getting out of Cadence is another issue. “Okay. I’ll talk to my dad again. See if he’ll take me with him on his business trip. And…I’ll break up with Reece. I’ll try to convince him I don’t want to be with him anymore.” The words taste bitter just trying them out. They’re going to be vile when I say them for real, knowing what a lie they are.
“You’ll have to do better than try.” Hank gives me a sad smile. “You know, your mother would be proud of you—of your talent, your strong, practical mind. Despite it all, you have a kind, balanced soul. I know you can do this—you will do this, if Reece means anything to you. If you value your own future.”
“Hank.” I reach out, take his hand. It’s solid and warm and brings back a fresh rush of memories. “Will you stay with me?”
His smile fades. Even as my hand falls from his, black vapor curls from his mouth. It doesn’t appear to be completely of his own volition, this shift back to crow form. “I can’t. And remember that harbingers are cursed creatures. Loving one would only curse you, as well. Best to learn that now, before, well…before.”
A knot swells in my throat. Even misshapen and hideous, I want to throw myself in his arms like I used to. He was warmth, safety. A set of clear, focused eyes and steady hands. I hug my arms around myself and stay where I am as he grows smaller and smaller, folding into himself until finally, a bright-eyed crow stands on the ground. It stares up at me before taking flight and disappearing into the trees.
23-the short good-bye
Reece closes the door behind me and frowns. “What’s the matter? You look like you’re about to be ill.”
That’s because I am about to be ill. My heart aches in a way that feels very much like it’s breaking. I ball my hands into fists and choke back a sob.
If I don’t do this now, I won’t do it at all. And then it will be too late.
The kitchen no longer smells like pancakes and syrup, but dish detergent and cotton. I don’t take off my coat.
Brooke breezes in, hand up and eyes averted. “Ignore me. I’m just getting some water.”
“N-no problem,” I stammer out. “We’re just talking.”
She slides assessing eyes over me and arches a brow. “Not the good kind of talking.”
I glance away as Reece’s scowl turns confused.
“What’s going on, Angie?” he asks.
“I met a friend of yours in the woods.”
“Really?” Brooke’s brows raise. “Who?”
“Hank,” I say flatly.
Reece’s eyes squeeze shut. “Brooke, would you mind leaving us alone, please?”
Brooke lets out a low whistle. “Oh boy. I’d rather not, but…” She shrugs, forgets the water, and leaves with a sympathetic look to Reece.
“You actually…saw him?” he asks with a grimace.
“What’s left of him, yes.” My mouth hardens. “It so happens, he’s a friend of mine, too.” I take a deep breath and steel myself. “But you know that already.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, expression cool. “So I guess you had quite a talk.”
“You should have told me Hank was one of you—a harbinger of death. You should have told me we were friends when we were kids.” I swing my arms wide. “Your name was Troy. I can’t believe you never told me that.”
“I was a little surprised you didn’t remember me at all. I thought…” He shakes his head. Hurt flashes in his eyes. “Anyway, you didn’t. I tried to keep my distance. But I couldn’t, obviously. And after, I couldn’t find a way to tell you about our past that wasn’t weird and disturbing.”