In the Shadow of Blackbirds(38)

That’s all I could remember about Mae Tate at that moment. My mind clouded over. Other memories—stronger, richer ones; memories that wanted me to see and feel and taste them—invaded my brain.

A room wallpapered in peacock green.

Stephen’s mouth on mine.

Mr. Muse.

Lightning striking a sepia sea.

Four words penned in an artistic hand: I DO LOSE INK.

Blue smoke.

A flag-draped coffin.

A whisper: Blackbirds …

“I see—the letter W,” said Lena across the table.

W? I shook my head and reoriented myself. Oh, Christ. She’s going to tell Aunt Eva Uncle Wilfred came through.

I opened my mouth to stop any fake uncles from emerging in the dark, but my voice got stuck in my throat. The air burned with the same stifling firework smoke I had smelled before Stephen showed up next to my bed. My eyes watered from the uncomfortable change in the atmosphere. The weight of suffering pressed down on my body.

“They’re killing me,” said a voice behind me.

I turned my head but saw only darkness.

“They’re killing me,” it said again.

“Stephen?” I struggled to break free of the circle, but Roy and my aunt tugged me toward them. “Stephen, I’m here.” I sprang loose from their grip with a force that tipped my chair backward. The wood and my elbow banged against the floor.

Aunt Eva shrieked, and Julius cried out, “What was that?”

“It’s all right.” I untangled myself from the chair and crouched in the dark. “Stephen, where are you?”

“Help me.” Stephen’s voice came from a few feet away. “I swear to God they’re murdering me.”

“You’re already dead. I went to your funeral. You died in the war.”

“They’re coming. Oh, God, they’re coming!”

“Stephen?” I reached out but grabbed only air. “What happened to you? Who do you see killing you?”

“Ugly things.”

“What types of things?”

“Monstrous birds.” He gasped, which made my shoulders jerk. “Don’t you hear them?”

“Birds are killing you?”

“Blackbirds. They’ve tied me down. They’re torturing me.”

My God, I thought. Is he halfway in hell?

“Do you know who I am?” I sat up. “Can you see me?”

A pause followed, long enough to swell with questions from the other sitters. What is she doing? What’s happening? What the hell is going on?

“Shell.” Stephen’s voice brushed against my ear and shivered through me in the sweetest way. Static sparked across my hair. “My Mary Shelley.”

I lowered my eyelids and smiled. “Yes, it’s me. You showed up in my bedroom last night, scaring me half to death.”

“You’ve been pulling me toward you like a magnet. Keep me with you. Don’t push me back to France and home again. They’ve got me trapped there.”

“You died in battle. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

“No. You’ve got it all wrong. They haven’t finished with me yet. They’re never going to finish with me.”

A chair scooted away from the table.

“Keep me with you,” he said against my neck.

“Keep coming back to me,” I whispered. “I’ll help you figure out what’s wrong, I promise.”

Heavy footsteps clomped across the room.

I opened my eyes. “Someone’s going to turn on the lights. Be careful, Stephen—”

The electric lamps buzzed back to life and blazed against my corneas. The smell of fire in the air softened to the lingering wisps of Roy’s snuffed-out cigarette. My mouth cooled to a normal temperature.

Stephen was gone.

Lena plodded my way, brow pinched, ringlets jostling. She raised her hand, and before I could duck, she slapped my cheek. “How dare you take over my séance? How dare you? Who do you think you are, coming in here, questioning me, insulting me, making a scene in the middle of my sacred trance?”

Julius got to his feet. “All right, all right. Calm down, Lena.”

She turned on him and smacked him, too. “Why did you bring her here? Are you trying to make fun of my spiritual skills?”

“No—”

“Get her out of here.” Lena ran to the door and swung it open with a crash of wood against wall. “Get her out right now. I don’t want to see any one of you on my doorstep ever again, and that includes you, Julius. I hope you never find your brother.”

I shot to my feet and tried to lunge at Lena, but Aunt Eva and Julius took hold of me and escorted me out to the entry hall, where Lena pelted the backs of our heads with balled-up handfuls of Julius’s flyers.


AUNT EVA CLIMBED INSIDE THE CADILLAC WITH BOTH OF our beaded handbags quaking in her arms. I put my left foot on the running board to step in beside her, but Julius clasped my elbow and steered me down the sidewalk with enough speed to make me trip.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked in a panic.

He stopped below an electric streetlamp near the hamburger restaurant and yanked me close. “You’re not just pretending to see him, are you?”

“No. I hate frauds.”