Black Bird of the Gallows

by Meg Kassel

  “Reece!” I call out. He doesn’t so much as twitch, and that alarms me. It’s not like my voice is competing with any other noise. I splash my way over to him, but when I reach him, he’s still zoned out. And then I see why.

  There’s two dead people in there. A young couple, is my impression, and that’s based on the clothes. I can’t look away. Blood is everywhere. The shallow water he’s standing in is oily dark with it. I glimpse twisted limbs and a severed arm, floating. Fingers curled slightly. An open mouth. Eyes wide open, staring at the sky. My gaze swings and holds on living, breathing Reece. Red-black eyes are fixed on the gruesome scene before him. He breathes through his teeth. A wild flush darkens his cheeks as he absorbs the fleeting, lingering energy of the semi-recent dead. That’s definitely what he’s doing. I shudder and turn away, feeling oddly embarrassed, as if I am witnessing a private act. It’s so easy, sometimes, to forget that Reece is different. That he’s not quite human, and all this horror is not quite as horrible for him.

  “Reece.” I touch his arm, tentatively.

  He turns abruptly, and I snatch my hand back. He’s searing hot again.

  He blinks at me slowly, but I’m not sure he sees me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, like I don’t know. Like I’m trying to be polite or something. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He rakes shaky fingers through his hair. “These were…there’s so much energy here—way more than I need right now—it’s overwhelming.”

  I put a hand over my mouth and stifle a gag. My voice is a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know how you can—”

  “I wish I could explain it to you, Angie,” he says. “It’s like being ultra alive and completely dead at the same time.” He grabs my sleeve and tugs it with a weird urgency. “We have to stay together. Whatever happens from now on, we can’t be separated.”

  “Okay, okay.” I pry his hand off my sleeve and twine my fingers with his. His grip is almost painful. “So don’t go running off to every dead person you come across.” There’re bound to be more of them. I sneak another quick peek at the deceased couple—or what’s left of them under the collapsed section of their attic—and bear down on another wave of nausea. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Yes. How far is it to the school? I’m getting you on the first heli—” He breaks off, gaze narrowing on something beyond my shoulder.

  “What is it?” I whip around, and I see. “Oh no.”

  Across the street and two houses down, a man stands on the peak of a roof. His posture is easy, completely unconcerned with falling. His head swivels slowly, scanning the street. It’s Rafette. I recognize the hat. That puffy coat I’ve grown to hate.

  Reece grabs my jacket and yanks me down, below the shattered window frame and hopefully out of sight. His hand burns against my spine. “Don’t move.”

  “Do you think he saw us?” My heart pounds so loud, every living thing within two miles must hear it.

  “Don’t think so.” He lifts his head to peek out. “We have to go before he does.”

  A crow suddenly cries out, and five dark birds streak over the rooftops. They fly low and make noise. Rafette turns away, watching the birds.

  Reece whispers a thank-you to his family for the distraction and tugs me forward. We slip out of the gaping opening in the front of the house and move to the rear, flattening ourselves against vinyl siding. It’s hard to move in water and not make splashy sounds, but we’re not the only things disturbing the water. All sorts of things float around, liberated from peoples’ homes. A child’s plastic Big Wheels. Half-empty gallons of paint. The bloating corpse of a cat.

  We hug the side of the house and slip through the rear neighbor’s backyard. We sneak up another few streets, moving from house to house. Reece ducks into someone’s open garage and pulls me in behind him. We press against the wall.

  “Have we lost him?”

  He puts a finger to his lips and points to the garage window. The view shows a sliver of the street we were just on, between two homes. Rafette turns his head back and forth with clear frustration, then heads up the street. Away from us, again. We wait until he’s out of sight before sinking to the floor.

  A wave of dizziness forces me to drop my head to my knees until it passes.

  “Are you sick?” he asks.

  “No.” Frightened out of my mind, hungry, hurting, yes.

  Reece rubs absent circles on my back. There’s a frown in his voice. “How far are we from the school?” He asked me this before.

  “Not far,” I say. “About a quarter mile east of here.” Not in the same direction Rafette went, but not the opposite, either.

  He rubs his eyes with a frown. A light sweat gleams on his forehead. “How bad do I look?”

  “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.

  Rafette says, “Ah, there it is,” and squeezes something deep in the side of my neck.

  I never get the scream out. Time stops. The world goes black.

  39- the bitter sting

  I open my eyes to a colorful honeycomb grid set against a blue sky.

  A puffy cloud in the shape of a penguin reshapes into an elephant.

  And then a dog. And then…

  Despair.

  Rafette brought me here, which means I’m going to die soon. I may already be dying. I should be more upset about this, but whatever Rafette did to my neck has given me the mother of all headaches and a weird tickling all over my skin. I couldn’t run now if I wanted to. Just turning my head is a chore, as if my spine has rusted solid.

  I recognize my viewpoint from the underside of the monkey bars dome in the playground of Cadence Elementary School.

  The cloud turns into a leering clown face.

  I sense someone to my left and spot Rafette. He sits on the ground, knees up, back resting on the metal bars. “You can sit up, if you like.” His shaky voice is gentle. “But do it slowly. You don’t want to make them nervous.”

  Make who nervous? I roll to my side and prop myself on an elbow. Then I see them.

  Bees. Dozens of them. No, hundreds.

  And they are silent. They crawl along my arms and legs. That explains the itching sensation. I feel them now—in my hair, between my fingers, crawling around under my pant legs. A whimper slips from my lips. I make my body go still. I’m afraid to open my mouth, in case a bee should crawl inside. I’m afraid to do anything.

  “You have been stung only once.” He touches a fingertip to my right wrist. “Here. But they will deliver more stings if you move suddenly.”

  Stung? I convulse at his words. My mind feels intact, but the sting is fresh. All I feel is bone deep weariness and a sickening dip in my stomach. I’ve been stung, like my mother. I can’t even process the sharp, profound sadness rolling through me. It leadens my limbs and fills my eyes with tears. I let out a sob and the bees buzz nervously.

  “Relax, please,” Rafette urges. “They can sense your agitation.”

  Relax? Is he on crack? There’s no way to be not agitated in this situation. “So I’m doomed, then?” I rasp out. My mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton balls.

  “No.” Rafette rests his forearms on his knees. “Your harbinger may choose to save you. He may choose to let the venom destroy you. It’s up to him, really. Personally, I am hoping he chooses to save you. My bees don’t want to sting you. They sense, as do I, that your mind is strong. We don’t like to hurt strong people.”

  “He won’t.” My voice is slurred. “You’re wasting your time.”

  “I don’t think so.” A bee spirals from Rafette’s mouth and lands on his eyebrow. He closes one eye as it crawls over the lid and down his cheek. “You know, I learned something from what happened with the last harbinger. You sting the loved one before asking them to take the curse. The motivation is so much greater that way.”

  I shudder at sudden stabbing pain behind my eyes. My mother had headaches. So it begins: the breakdown of my mind. “You’re sick. Cruel. Hideous. Sadistic. Disgusting.”

  “I know,” he says. “Can you now see why I am so eager to be rid of this curse?” He looks…tired. The features of his face shift sluggishly. His shoulders hunch. It’s hard to imagine this creature is exhausted, but he appears to be. “Centuries ago, you would not have called me hideous. I had a beautiful face,” he says. “I was more beautiful than your harbinger. Everything I once was became swallowed up by all this.” He gestures harshly to his face. “If you were me, would you not do anything to end it?”

  “Not like this.” But I have no idea what centuries of living like this would do to me. Maybe I would be that desperate, but it doesn’t matter. I’m on the wrong side of this equation.

  He sighs again, rubs the back of his neck in a very human gesture. “If your harbinger accepts my queen bee, all those who have been stung will be released from the effects of the venom. You and your friend will be saved.”

  Saved? Am I hallucinating? A bee wanders over the curve of my ear. I stifle another whimper. “How is that?”

  “I have it on good authority that the magic in the bees dies with me. Anyone stung would be restored to normal.” He closes his eyes—pale green with red lashes—and bares his teeth in a terrible smile. He turns slowly, hearing something behind him. “Ah, it appears your hero has arrived to rescue you.” His faces shift furiously, changing so fast they blur together. The bees on me suddenly beat their tiny wings and let out an angry hum. It’s a terrifying sound. Like imminent agony and inevitable death.

  Reece stalks across the playground, all fury and clenched fists. A crow keeps pace above him, flying in agitated circles as if trying to make him turn back. It lets out distressed squawks, plucks at his shirt with those sharp talons. It’s him—Hank. I can just make out his white feather.

  Reece waves a hand, brushing off the bird, and pins hot, red-black eyes on my captor. “Rafette.” His voice is menacing.

  “So nice to see you, harbinger.” Rafette folds his arms. “You are late.”

  “Let her go,” Reece snarls.

  “I would be pleased to,” Rafette replies. “But as you can see, you must offer me something in order for her release.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You must accept my queen bee into yourself,” Rafette says. “I will be free.”

  “You’re delusional if you think that would work,” Reece sneers.

  “It will work. One of the ancient Strawmen gave me the secret.” The Beekeeper presses a finger to his temple. “He put it all right in here, without saying a word.”

  This sounds like made up nonsense to me, but Reece visibly pales. His entire body deflates. When I first met Reece, I remember glimpses of profound grief. Desolation so deep it made me shudder. It eased as we spent more time together, but I see it now, stripped down and exposed, in the lines of his
face, the curve of his body. He hunches with the weight of loss. The burden of every death and horror he’s witnessed. With the truth in the Beekeeper’s words and the magnitude of the choice before him.

  I sit straight up, fingers digging into the soggy earth. The bees drone in disapproval. Another stinger sinks into my flesh, making my ankle jerk. “Don’t even think of it, Reece.”

  Reece does not look away from the Beekeeper. His lips thin, then turn down at the edges.

  “Thank you, harbinger,” Rafette says gently. “After a millennia of this torment, I will finally be allowed to die.”

  My heart smashes against my ribs. The bees buzz faster in distress, but I don’t care what they do. I’m already stung. Their venom is moving through my tissues, sending it deeper, to my bones. Soon, to my mind. “Not him!” I beg Rafette. “Don’t do this to him.”

  Rafette finally turns to me. He has the nerve to look apologetic. “But it must be him. Only another creature of the lost magic can accept the curse. I’ve waited a very long time to find a harbinger with something to lose.” He turns knowing eyes to Reece. “He wouldn’t walk away now, even if I begged him. Isn’t that right, scavenger?”

  Reece stares at the thick red welt on my wrist. He shakes his head.

  “Do not become one of them for me,” I say, willing him to listen to me. “I’m not worth losing your soul over.”

  Reece’s gaze turns to me, all blazing eyes and determination. “You’re worth all that and more.”

  “No!” Tears streak from my eyes. What is wrong with him? “Do not do this. Please.”

  “I can’t let you die, Angie.”

  “He’s going to kill me with these bees either way,” I shoot back. “He told me so.”

  It’s a total lie and I feel zero guilt about it. I will say anything, at this point, to get him to leave.

  The Beekeeper raises his brows. “My word is true, and he knows it.” He turns to Reece. “Now, harbinger, shall we get on with it?”