Black Bird of the Gallows(87)

“You have the scary eyes.”

“Damn.” He closes them. “I’m not going to be able to go with you when we reach the school. I can’t let them see me like this.”

I give a slow nod. He definitely shouldn’t let himself be seen right now. The truth is, it’s more than his eyes that’s scary. I’ve never seen him look quite this…inhuman. “Hey.” I touch his heated cheek. “Are you all right? You look really strange.”

“I’m fine.” But he turns away. “My body is fighting the urge to change. The crow wants to take over so badly. It’s taking some effort to not do that.” He catches my gaze and holds up a finger. “But I am not doing that. Don’t worry.”

I bite my lip and hold back from telling him how much he should change and fly away, but we’re past that conversation. Even if we weren’t, now would not be the time to have it.





38-stronger than this


We continue moving from house to house. It’s slow and nerve-wracking and unbelievably exhausting. Every one of my senses is tuned in. That effort alone is delusion-inducing. The farther we go, the less I see why we’re bothering to be stealthy. My gut tells me the reason we’ve managed to evade Rafette is not because we’re so flipping clever, but because he knows exactly where we are. He has a legion of bees at his disposal. Depending on how they work for him, he could be everywhere—sitting on tree branches, watching from rooftops. My bet is, he’s waiting us out—something Rafette knows a lot about.

I suspect Reece knows this, too. It’s an unspoken thing neither of us wants to say, because if we do, we may lose the will to keep walking.

There would be no hope of getting away.

Besides, we’re getting closer to the school. The sounds of human activity are muted but there. Voices, the hum of generators, the now-and-then wail of a siren. My head throbs. No, my everything throbs. Reece doesn’t appear affected by our conditions. He keeps going at a grueling pace, as if moving forward is the only thing keeping his head straight. We are slipping around the side of a house when he suddenly stops dead.

I bump into his back. “What’s the matter?”

He doesn’t answer, but his body goes perfectly still.

“Is Rafette there?”

“No,” he says softly. “Someone’s dead in this house.”

“Oh no, you don’t. We talked about this.” I tug his arm. “We have to keep going.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. Sweat trickles down his temple. “Angie, I don’t know how to not go in there.”

Dread coils in my throat. He’s already kind of out of it. His skin is so hot, I almost can’t keep holding his arm. It can’t be healthy for him to absorb more death energy. “You just don’t,” I say firmly. “You fight it. You are stronger than this.”

He turns to me, and I know I’ve lost him. The look on his face is one of defeat, agony. “No, I’m not.” His voice is empty. “You don’t understand, Angie. I have to go in.”

He breaks away from me, walks up the front steps. Like a zombie. Like a drone. And disappears into the house.

I stand there, breathless. Hurting. Every ache and pain and sore spot, magnified. I won’t follow him. I will not step foot in that house. I wrap my arms around my sore ribcage and shudder against the chill in the air and the ice in my bones. I had warded off the cold by constant movement, but standing still, it slices through me.

All those times Reece told me we can’t ever be together, a part of me clung to the hope that we’d find a way to make it work. But standing here, the truth of it finally hits home. There is no way this relationship will work. After all is said and done, I will lose Reece to this curse that defines his existence. No amount of love or willpower or compromise will change what he is. I have no choice but to let him go, and the thought of it makes me want to put my fist through a wall. Not that I could, but…

A hand clamps over my mouth, cutting off my quiet sob. Another wraps around my torso, pinning my arms, and jerking me against a male chest. Wearing a puffy coat.

Honey. Panic explodes in my chest. I buck and twist with the force of a seizure. I scream, even though it’s muffled against the warm, sweet-smelling hand.

“He can’t hear you.” A voice laughs into my ear. “Even if he could, he’s in no condition to help you.”

Rafette.

No. My heart sinks but I fight harder, flush with adrenaline. This is my life. My life. It’s no use, of course. Reece said Beekeepers possess great strength, and Rafette is demonstrating that with terrifying accuracy. His grip is effortless and unyielding.

“Please stop struggling,” he says mildly. “You’re damaging yourself.”

Like he cares. Like I care at this point. Surely he plans to damage me far worse than the bruises my squirming will cause.

The arm around my battered ribs tightens, pushing the air out of my lungs and sending blinding pain straight through the top of my skull. I go still, and the pressure instantly eases.

“That’s better. No reason to fight. No point in it, really.” Rafette’s mouth touches my ear as he speaks—accidentally, I think—but bile spikes in my throat.

The hand on my mouth slides down to my neck. His fingers start probing around. I draw in a breath to scream.