Black Bird of the Gallows(65)

I’m not sure I want to know. Everything about this place screams of unhappiness, from the duct-taped window to the stink of unwashed everything.

“They’re trying to evacuate Cadence, with varied success,” he says. “The owner of this apartment has left, along with most of the residents of the Mountain View Gardens. You remember this place.”

I do, unfortunately. I can’t suppress a shudder at the memory of the last time I was here.

“You should have stayed away from me,” I say.

His shoulders hunch. “I couldn’t.”

“The helicopters were there,” I say. “I would have been rescued.”

“You would have been butchered.”

“But—”

“The helicopters would not have gotten to you in time. When we left, your friends’ neighbors were battling the Beekeeper’s infected army. And if you’d gotten past them somehow, there’s Rafette to contend with. He wouldn’t have let you out of Cadence so easily.”

“So you rescued me.”

“Didn’t feel like a rescue.” Muscles flex up and down his arms as he twists his palms together. “You put up a fight. You acted like…” He grimaces. “Like you were afraid of me.”

“I thought you were him.”

He turns back to face me but stays carefully in the shadow. “How could you mistake me for him?”

“Your voice,” I shrug. “It sounded…not quite human.”

He nods. “These are the times when the curse has the most control over me. I’m at my least human.”

My breath suspends as a pause sucks the oxygen from the room. It grows heavier as the seconds tick by. His words feel like a warning and an apology. And a plea.

“I was—am—afraid for you,” I say.

“You shouldn’t be.” His voice is harsh. It scrapes through me like sandpaper. “I can handle Rafette.”

But I’m not sure he can.

I start to curl my legs under me. The movement startles a pained gasp out of me. I forgot about my injured ankle. I reach for it and find it wrapped in a snug bandage. My hands are clean and bandaged, too. My heart gives a little squeeze. He did more than undress me. He tended my wounds. Damn you, Reece. I can’t push him away. He’s making it impossible. Nearly.

I tilt up my chin. “Rafette wants you, not me. You.”

“I said, I can handle Rafette.” Reese’s mouth compresses. “Please, don’t act like I’m—” He cuts off, rubs his eyes.

“Reece, I saw what happened to Hank. Just because he and my mom were close…”

“Doesn’t mean I’d be turned into that, too.”

“Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t. Or something worse.” My words come out sharper than I meant. “Why take the chance, Reece? You were only going to leave, anyway. I wanted to protect you. I don’t want to be your weakness.”

His body goes tense. I realize too late that “weakness” was, perhaps, a poor word choice.

“Three or four lifetimes ago, I lived for five years after an explosion left me with one arm and third-degree burns over most of my body. My face was pretty much gone. Then later, in the Vietnam War, my legs got shot up, and I lay in the jungle for what felt like an eternity until I finally died from a parasitic infection. I’ve endured horrors, Angie.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “So don’t talk to me about weakness. I’m stronger than Hank was, and I’ve been around a whole lot longer. You’re the one who gets only one life. That’s over the moment you get stung by one of Rafette’s bees.”

I lower my head. “Fine. Rafette thinks I’m your weakness. Hank said Beekeepers are relentless. And the ancient creature that turned Hank into this twisted thing could be here, waiting for you to mess up.”

His hands clench at his sides, but he can’t hide his shudder. “He was talking about a Strawman. No one has spotted one of them here. And I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t pull you out of the rubble, just got you out of the path of a Beekeeper mob.”

“Are you sure those creatures will catch the nuance there?” I ask gently. “It would destroy me to see you end up like Hank. It would destroy me to see you becoming a Beekeeper. That is a hell you can’t die and be reborn from. It’s forever, apparently, and I put distance between us because Rafette thinks I’m important to you.” My voice cracks over the words, the only indication that they are important to me.

Reece goes perfectly still. “You are important to me,” he says finally. “More important than anything any cursed creature thinks he could do to me.”

Blood sings through my body. My heart stumbles behind my ribs, but I manage a messy reply. “Well then. That’s a problem.”

“It is. A bigger problem than you think.” He slowly walks toward the bed, all lean muscle and sun-kissed skin. He keeps the hair over his eyes. “I don’t know if you’re ready for this, but I can’t hide it any longer.”

Ready for what? My breathing goes wonky. I clamp my arms tighter over the sheet, but all he does is take a ratty throw blanket from the foot of the bed and pull it around my shoulders. Such a simple gesture, and so tender, it almost cracks me. Reece perches on the edge of the bed. Tense, as if he’s ready to bolt.