Keeper of Crows (Keeper of Crows #1)(25)

“Does it matter?”

Did it? We were using the house now. That mattered. A chick lived here. She had a black Labrador retriever and a nail polish fetish, given the obscene amount of tiny bottles under the bathroom sink. She was my size. How did he know we were the same size?

“I can sense these things.”

“You can sense them?”

“You repeat my questions often.”

Hmm. He had a point there. But I still couldn’t wrap my mind around this place. This dream was the weirdest and longest I’d ever had.

Keeper wore a long-sleeved black Henley, its sleeves pushed up to reveal muscular forearms and the tattoos that covered them. Dark jeans fit him like they were made for him.

“Where’d you get the clothes? I didn’t see men’s clothing in any of the closets.”

“I asked for them.”

“Whom did you ask?”

He rolled his eyes and strode toward me, reaching out for my hands. “Stand up.”

Uh.

“Stand. Up,” he said more softly.

I stood and placed my hands in his. He lowered his head, bringing our mouths precariously close together. Lightning struck between the pair of us.

“Do you feel that?” he slowly whispered.

“The electricity?” I was breathless, lightheaded. I could feel him everywhere. The spark. The connection. Him.

“Yes.”

“Then, yes. I feel it.”

Keeper’s eyes fastened onto mine, swirls of violet and blue. “It’s real. This home is real. You are not dreaming.”

“But it can’t be real. I saw my body. I’m not in it anymore.”

He nodded. “You aren’t in your earthen body anymore; you’re in a body made only for this place. You are in Purgatory. It’s a reality with its own rules. Earth’s rules do not apply here. If you can accept that, you can survive here. If you refuse, you may lose your mind before your soul makes its way back to your body. Do you understand? If you lose your mind, you’ll never find your way back to your body and you’ll be lost for good. You have to keep a grasp on who you are and what happened to you, even though it’s painful.”

Remembering was part of the punishment of being here. Swallowing, I tried to pull my hands away. His lips were perfect, the bottom slightly plumper than the top.

“I’ll try,” I said, pleading with him to understand. It just made no sense.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he answered my unspoken thoughts. “None of this does. Especially not you.”

“Why don’t I make sense? The fabric? I’m telling you, my soul was like a sponge. Somehow, it just soaked it up.”

Keeper smiled.

“This place is so strange, but I can honestly say I’ve seen weirder here,” I added. I mean, hello, the tears or fissures themselves were creepy as hell. All of a sudden, a sharp sting ran up my spine. I jumped into him and Keeper caught me, holding me tight to him. It felt like the lightning leash was stinging me, or a lightning whip was cracking across my spine.

“Aaah!” I winced. He held me upright, fingers digging into my hips.

“What’s happening?” he gritted.

“I don’t know! You should know!”

He held me up as another surge forked up my spine, tearing a scream from my throat, and then he looked up to the ceiling.

“It’s not possible.” His irises turned dark and began to swirl and ooze like oil, hints of lavender, teal, and deep brown roiling within. “How did you know it was coming?”

“What? What was coming?”

“I only now sensed it. Come outside.”

He pulled me along behind him, my back alive with sharp, stinging bursts of something more powerful than I was.

Out on the deck, the crows cawed and swirled into a funnel. The film of fabric appeared, swirling angrily. The noise, the screeching, ripping, ear-damaging sound came from above us. RIGHT above us. The fabric had torn apart.

“Is this your version of help?” I asked hopefully.

“No, this is you.”

“Me?”

“You did this. You mentioned the fabric of the veil, and then you mentioned it tearing and separating. Holy… You envisioned it. You caused this fissure!”

The wind swirled as angrily as Keeper’s eyes, as frenzied as his birds. They watched the flapping edges of the fabric, watched the gaping hole to see what or who would pass through it. But no one did.

“Close it!” he yelled over the sound of the wind and wings.

“I can’t!”

“You can! Think it. Imagine it closing!”

Toward the fissure, I screamed, “Close, you fucking thing!”

He frowned at me but watched incredulously as the fabric begin to swirl, congeal, and repair the wound I’d caused. The scar was present for a fraction of a second before it disappeared, along with the veil itself. Keeper’s jaw gaped open as he looked over at me.

“That was one way to do it.”

“I didn’t know what to say! I don’t think it was me in the first place.”

“It was you,” he said, relaxing his stance. The crows circled more slowly and began to land in the yard and on the roof of the house. A few perched on the dead limbs of a nearby tree. Cawing at each other more calmly, they settled down. So did he.