He leaned across the steering wheel, staring out the windshield to where the birds circled the parking lot.
“Where did they come from?”
“Who cares?” Liv said. “We’ve got to call the cops.”
“The cops?”
“Or animal control.”
He sighed, scraping a hand through his platinum hair.
“They’re not equipped to handle this.”
Irritation flooded her veins. Liv had the sudden, uncontrollable urge to knock his face into the steering wheel and rattle some sense back into him.
“Those things are going to kill someone.”
He turned in his seat. Wandering eyes soaked in the sight of her, a sweaty mix of blood and cheap makeup.
“You’re bleeding,” he said.
“I know. Look, we’ve got to call someone-”
“I’ve got it covered.”
“We’re cowering in your car, how is that having it covered?”
“It just is,” he said. “I don’t have to explain myself to some fifteen year old-”
She bristled. “Seventeen.”
“Whatever.”
With a withering look he reached into the backseat.
Liv blew out a huff of annoyance. She stuffed angry fists between her knees.
He dug around, shuffling noisily through his belongings. The car rocked as he threw his weight around. Labored breaths, coated with irritation filtered from the back. It set Liv on edge; wearing down the last of her patience.
She angled herself around the seat, hoping to catch a glance but it was impossible. His broad shoulders blocked out whatever he was doing.
Liv sank back into her seat in defeat.
“If there wasn’t a swarm of murderous seagulls outside, I would be gone in a second,” she mumbled.
“Stymphalian birds.”
“What?”
He popped his head up from the back, dragging a wooden bow and a quiver of arrows with him. He slung the strap of the quiver over his shoulder.
“They’re not seagulls. They’re Stymphalian birds.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“Nasty things. Bronze beaks and projectile, metal feathers. They belonged to the goddess Artemis, until they multiplied and turned into man-eating terrors. Hercules wiped them out centuries ago.”
“Wait. Did you say Hercules?”
“Yes.”
Liv laughed. “You’re crazy.”
“Am I?”
“Certifiable.”
“Then how do you explain what you just saw?”
She shrugged. “Rabies.”
“Rabies?”
“Sure, animals do all kinds of weird stuff when they have rabies.”
Something fast and dark slammed into the window. Liv jumped, clutching at the armrest. A Stymphalian bird sat on the hood of the car. Head pressed against the glass.
“He can’t see us, can he?” she whispered.
In answer the bird reared back, smashing its beak into the windshield. The car shook. The glass held but cracks began to form where the beak made contact.
“Rabies, huh?” he said.
The glass spiderwebbed under another attack.
“Stupid bird!” he shouted.
He punched a fist into the steering wheel, blasting the horn to no effect. He switched on the wiper blades, only to have the bird rip them from the Charger with its beak.
“Sonofa- I just had this car detailed!”
“Are you serious right now?”
He ignored her, mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “First the Cyclops and now this.”
Something knocked into Liv’s window. She screamed, and turned to see another Stymphalian bird, its talons gripping the edge of the window, thumping its beak against the glass. Another bird did the same to the driver’s side. The boy looked more irritated than anything else.
“What are you waiting for? Start the car and get us out of here,” she said.
Metallic pings echoed from the rooftop as the rest of the flock settled onto the car. Seizing his bow, he took a steadying breath and opened his door.
“Wait.” Liv grabbed his arm. “You’re not seriously going out there, are you?”
He smirked. “Aw, you’re worried about me.”
“Sorry, I don’t want to see someone disemboweled by birds tonight.”
He shut the door and reached under his seat before pulling out a crowbar.
She took it, turning it over in her hands. “What’s this?”
“A crowbar.”
“I know it’s a crowbar,” she snapped.
“Well, then don’t ask stupid questions.”
He eased the door open again. The sound of splintering glass echoed through the interior. The cracks had spread across the entirety of the windshield.
“When it’s clear, you make a run for it.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
He winked and in a blur of movement, he was gone. By the time her eyes caught up with him, the sound of the slamming door had reached her ears and he was halfway across the parking lot. Illuminated by the car’s headlights, he notched an arrow and took aim at the closest bird.
The arrow knocked the bird out of the air. A ball of glimmering wings dropped from the sky. The sound like a sack of change hitting the ground rang out. It captured the attention of the flock. They moved in perfect formation, falling onto the boy in a dark swarm. Sharp wings pinned him to the asphalt.
This was her chance.
She opened the door, braced for an attack. Leaving the safety of the Charger, she crept to the front.
He sprang from the flock, yelling. “Run!”
His feet didn’t touch down. He rose into the air, launched skyward by a pair of wings from his back. Each down-stroke thrust him higher. The shredded remains of his shirt drifted to the ground.
Liv stopped, turned and stared in awe at the sight of him against the sky. Large, white wings, flecked with beige, and framed by moonlight kept him afloat. The birds were unperturbed by this development. They flew higher, diving downward, angling their beaks at his head. He notched and released an arrow, and then another. One bird fell, the arrow missed the other.
“Go!”
His voice forced her feet to move. She tore across the parking lot. Lungs burned. She dug deep. Fueled by fear, she pumped her legs.
The van was within reach when the boy cried out. Every instinct told her not to stop. She staggered and glanced back.
He reeled backwards in the air. His wings pelted by sharp, metal feathers. The bow fell from his hands. Liv held her breath and watched as he tumbled head over heels behind it. He struggled to fly, fighting against the weight of the steel shards embedded in his wings. He flapped his wings, slowing his descent only to crumple into a heap once he touched ground. Legs buckled under the strain, he collapsed onto the asphalt.
A victory cry split the air as the flock descended onto his motionless figure.
He lay in the middle of the lot, halfway from where she stood. She ran to him. Feet pounded the asphalt in a race to beat the birds. But she wasn’t fast enough. They fell upon him, plunging lethal beaks into his flesh.
Liv skidded to a stop beside the flock. A bird swung its head around. It gawked at her with beady eyes. She heaved the crowbar over her head and swung. Bones crunched as curved steel met bird. The force caved in its skull, the crowbar vibrating power in her hands. The bird dropped, lifeless, hitting the cement like a wet rag. Another sprang up to replace it. It tore skin from her arm with its beak. Liv struggled to keep from dropping the crowbar, as it burrowed its bill deeper, finding purchase in her flesh.
She cried out, a sound blended of anger and pain. Adrenaline surged, white hot in her veins, drowning the discomfort. She embraced the rush, planting a punch across the bird’s chest. His beak opened, and with a quick shake of her arm, she threw him off. With a disoriented squawk, he somersaulted b
ackwards through the air. She tightened her grip on the crowbar and swung again, striking the bird in the midsection. The creature burst apart, a grisly piñata of feathers and blood.
“Nice swing.”
Liv whirled around, crowbar raised, ready to attack. He climbed to his feet, shaking the remaining birds from his back. They squawked in protest and lifted into the sky.
She lowered her arm, watching as he plucked metal shards from his wings. Pinching one of the sharp feathers between his thumb and index finger, he held it toward the moonlight.
“You ever play duck hunt?” he asked.
“What?”
“Ugh, teenagers.” He set his sights on the flock. They soared, climbing ever higher until Liv was sure they’d escape.
A flash of metal cut the sky, dropping one of the birds. Before Liv had even put together what happened, the boy threw another Stymphalian feather. It struck its target, dropping another bird, and then another. Each one sunk home with chilling accuracy until finally, the skies were clear.
Adrenaline gone, Liv sagged against a Buick. It was the only other car in the parking lot. She leaned against the hood to catch her breath.
The blonde followed in silence. He stopped in front of her, careful to leave space between them. For a moment neither one of them spoke. Liv stared in fascination while he flexed his wings, testing their range. They extended close to six feet across. He fussed with them, brushing what looked like splotches of gold paint from the ruffled feathers. Upon closer inspection she noticed the same gold paint oozing from the cuts on his skin.
“What are you?”
“That’s rude,” he said, feigning hurt.
“Give me a break. Are you an angel or something?”
A smirk rippled like a wave across his lips.
“Do I look like an angel?”
“You look like a douchey version of Anderson Cooper.”
The smile fell only to be replaced with raucous laughter. He leaned in, grinning as he clapped a hand on her shoulder
“I’m going to like you,” he said. “Name’s Nik. I’m your friendly neighborhood erote.”
“What?”
“Erote,” he said. “You know, like Cupid?”
“You think you’re Cupid?”
“No, I’m an erote. Well, technically half- a demigod. But demigod sounds like such an antiquated term…”
Liv looked at him again, eyes flickering over the wings, and the quiver of arrows slung across his back. She was tempted to call him crazy, but there he was, standing in front of her looking pretty half-godlike. She tugged on the end of his wing, but it didn’t give.
“Whoa, easy with the merchandise.”
He knocked her hands away and stepped back. Jaw clenched, he rolled his shoulders as if to release tension from his muscles. The large wings began to retract, slowly absorbing into his back. Liv moved to follow them, circling behind Nik as the feathered appendages slipped beneath the split skin. Each shift of his wings elicited a painful grunt until finally, the process ended. His skin knitted together, closing the gaps that had formed from the wings. All that remained was pink scar tissue that snaked across his back, and splatters of gold.
“You bleed gold?”
“Ichor,” he said.
He walked toward his fallen bow. Liv followed close behind.
“Any clue where those birds came from?” he asked.
“How should I know? I didn’t even know what those things were until you showed up.”
“Uh huh.” He didn’t sound convinced. “You just happened to be out here at the same time they just happened to show up after being extinct for hundreds of years?”
Liv shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
Nik picked his bow up off the asphalt and slung it over his shoulder. The look he shot her said he wasn’t buying it.
“You got a car around here or somethin’?”
“Yeah, the Honda,” said Liv, gesturing toward the van.
They crossed the lot, falling into step alongside each other. Awkward silence trickled in.
The Odyssey had not escaped the evening unscathed. Dents lined the passenger side door, and the window was cracked. Despite the chaos, her slushy remained upright, on the hood where she’d left it.
Liv jogged the last few steps between her and the van. The sight of the slushy a sudden reminder of how thirsty she was.
She pried the lid off the cup, tossing it along with the straw over her shoulder. The heat had melted the ice, leaving behind watered syrup. She took several large gulps, quenching the dry ache at the back of her throat. It was warm and overly sweet, but Liv was too thirsty to complain.
Nik moved with slow, cautious steps, surveying the mess of boxes. He gave the nearest one a nudge with his foot, rattling the jars inside.
“You running away or something?” he asked.
“Downsizing.”
She held the cup out to him. He took it, flashing a grateful smile. Liv rested against the van while he polished off the slushy. The normalcy of all of it at odds with what she’d just witnessed.
Nik set the empty cup on the ground, shifting his attention to the boxes. He crouched down, balanced on the balls of his feet as he pried back the cardboard flaps. The clink of glass caused her to straighten.
She pushed off the van.
“Do you mind?” she snapped.
In three quick strides, she closed the distance between them. She knocked the cardboard box away from him with the side of her shoe.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Thought you were downsizing?”
“It’s personal.”
Liv didn’t care about her mother’s stuff. She couldn’t wait to be rid of it. That didn’t mean she wanted Nik rummaging through it. It was stupid. He was a stranger. She shouldn’t care what he thought, but she did. Everyone in town had their opinions about her family and she couldn’t bare another one, not right then.
He opened another box before she could stop him. Her protests went ignored as he grabbed a jar from the box.
“What’s this?” he asked, holding it up to his face.
“It’s a jar.”
“What’s in it?”
“Farts,” she said, annoyed. “How should I know?”
He lifted it higher, examining it under the streetlight. “I’ve seen this before.”
“Yeah, that’s because it’s a jar. Seriously, were you dropped on your head or-”
“Where did you get it?”
She lunged for it, he pulled back, dangled it out of reach. He was too tall, his arms too long. She relented, huffing irritation as she folded her arms across her chest.
“It’s nothing. My mom was a hoarder.”
“These markings, they’re sealing sigils.” He traced the engravings, blue eyes flickering between her and the glass.
“What are you talking about?”
“See, this right here.” He pointed to a circular engraving with a spiral maze in the center. “This is one of Hecate’s symbols.”
“Hecate?”
“The Greek goddess of witchcraft. Not someone you mess with. You said these belonged to your mom?”
None of it was making any sense to her. She scrubbed the heel of her palm against her eye.
“Did you open one of these?” he asked.
“Depends on how you define open.”
Quick words tumbled from his mouth, blending together until Liv couldn’t make out a single one. He grabbed the first box and tore it open, scooping up jars by the handful.
“Hey, you can’t…” her voice lodged in her throat. Reality settled heavy upon her chest, her mind sputtering to catch up.
Did I release those birds?
The thought swirled around her head, churning cold dread in her stomach. Nauseous, she stumbled forward. She reached Nik seconds before her legs caved in, knees slamming onto the cement.
Whispered curses disrupted the night. His callused hand encircled her arm. Liv shook him off, dragging a closed box
toward her. She pulled open the top flaps. A cloud of dust rushed out. Inside, under a film of grime were her mother’s leather-bound journals.
Hands shaking, she plucked one from the top. The pages were brittle, sepia-stained with age, loose threads dangling from the spine. Liv opened the book, careful to avoid tearing it.
“I thought my mom was crazy, but after tonight…” She took a steadying breath. “Does this make any sense to you?”
She handed the book to him. He took it, eyes racing across the pages.
Anxious fingers tugged on the hem of her shirt. She waited for him to say something. Tell her she was wrong and that the journal was nonsense.
“It’s gibberish, right?”
He closed the book. “Ancient Greek, actually.”
“My mom doesn’t know Greek.”
“You sure about that?” he asked. “Are these books all the same?”
He gestured to the stack of journals. Liv nodded, her voice lost under a barrage of thoughts.
Nik drummed his fingers against his leg. He was a coil of nerves, humming with pent up energy that made her more nervous. His gaze shifted between the different boxes.
“Say it,” she said. “Whatever you’re thinking, just say it.”
“You ever heard of Pandora?”
“The jewelry?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
“Relax,” Liv said. “The chick with the box, right?”
“I can’t tell if you’re ignorant or just plain stupid,” he said. “No, it wasn’t a box. It was a jar. Zeus gave it to Pandora as a gift. He left out the bit about the horrors inside the jar.”
“And she let them out,” she said.
“Mankind wasn’t ready for the monsters she unleashed. Legend was Pandora spent the rest of her life trying to put them back. Even enlisted the help of a witch.”
“You think these are the same jars?” she asked.
“It makes sense if the Stymphalian birds came from one.”
“So, what you’re saying is I have boxes of monsters?”
“I don’t want to open another one to find out, but yeah, most likely,” he said, dumping the journal back into the box. He climbed to his feet, ignoring the wide-eyed look she shot his way. “Guess you and I have more in common than I thought.”
“How are you not freaking out?”
That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction Page 2