Sparrow Man

by M. R. Pritchard

  “So who’s the food and who’s the spectacle?” I ask, crossing the living room, taking a seat next to Sparrow on the threadbare plaid couch.

  “You’re the food.” Marcus says with a curt tone. “The spectacle will have to be a fight.”

  “That sounds wonderful. Tie me onto a spit and light a flame. So, who will fight?” I ask.

  Marcus glares at Sparrow, and that’s all the answer I need. If they were once chummy, they no longer are. Whatever bond Teari mentioned is long gone.

  “What about Teari?” I ask.

  “She can stand by,” Marcus answers. “Get to the portal and get help if we need it.”

  “We won’t need it,” Sparrow interrupts. “This plan is not happening.”

  I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding and ignore Sparrow’s warning. “So you want to string me up like a hooker under a streetlamp and wait for him to come and get me?”

  “No. Not happening.” Sparrow steps forward. “We aren’t going to hang her like a fresh piece of meat for him and his kind. They’ll tear her apart.”

  Teari and Marcus look at each other, then me. There’s no other choice. This is the fastest way. “I’ll do it,” I say.

  “Meg, you can’t!” Sparrow stands and shouts at me.

  “I can, Sparrow. There’s nothing I want more than to see Jim gone forever.” Sparrow shakes his head. Hating the feeling of him towering over me, I stand. “Besides, if it gets too dangerous I’ll just poof myself out of there.”

  “You think you’re strong enough for that?” he asks. “You think you’re strong enough to go up against him, again. Twice now, he’s almost killed you-”

  “And everyone I’ve known stood by and watched,” I remind him. As soon as the words exit my mouth, I see the pained expression on Sparrow’s face. Knowing what I just did, I feel like shit. I just punched him in the ball-sack where he keeps all that guilt stored up.

  He said he wouldn’t be able to deal with losing me again. This plan is just pushing his limits. Sparrow’s head tilts to the side and he studies me for just a moment before reaching behind him and plucking one of the feathers off of his wings. He twirls it in front of his face, his focus narrowing on the damaged dark colored feather just before he turns and leaves the room.

  A warning, that’s what that action was. A fear sinks into me that maybe he’s relapsing, maybe he’s going back to crazy and his greatest fear, the others seeing him like this, may come true.

  I close my eyes, take a deep breath, focus on the feeling deep in my gut. My fear of Sparrow regressing seems to be overshadowed by the gnawing need to ruin Jim for all he’s put me through. To be free of Jim and that thing that raised me, there’s nothing more that I want at this second.

  Looking down at the bandage covering my chest, I start to peel it away. My wound hasn’t bled in a while and I’m curious. Underneath there is a faint red line from where Jim stabbed me.

  Teari moves towards me and holds her hand over the wound. “It’s not fully healed, but enough,” she says as she moves her hand away and looks towards the door.

  “Where’s the Deacon?” I ask.

  Teari frowns. “Sent him back.”

  “And he’ll keep his mouth shut?”

  She gives a quick nod.

  “What’s wrong with Sparrow?” I ask, sensing something.

  “You should go to him,” she says softly, concern flooding her voice.

  I walk towards the door, opening it and walking to the enclosed yard. Sparrow is bent over the narrow sidewalk. Something dark lies on the cement.

  “Sparrow?” I ask, walking towards him.

  He reaches out, nudging the mass on the ground. As I walk closer in the early evening light, my eyes focus on the object. I see the gleam of its pointy beak, the twig-like legs lying lifeless. It’s a dead bird, left here like a taunt.

  “Sparrow!” I run towards him, my hand landing on his shoulder as he reaches out and rips the feathers out of the wings. Oh God, Oh God, I thought he was done with this. I thought he was over this! “Sparrow! They’ll see you,” I warn him.

  “Good.”

  “But… I thought you didn’t want them to know how crazy you were?” I whisper.

  “I am.”

  “What?”

  “How crazy I am.”

  He stands to his full height of six and a half feet, towering over me, thrusting a handful of feathers into his pocket.

  “You’re not-” I start but he cuts me off.

  “We need to leave.” He weaves around me and walks towards the garage.

  …

  Teari drives the Jeep at breakneck speed as I sit in the backseat with Sparrow. He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t look at me. He just stares out the window into the night. I hear his hand in his pocket. And I know what he’s doing, touching the feathers in there.

  Hours pass. The night blurs. Every now and then I catch the Jeep’s headlights illuminating a road sign that points to some small Pennsylvania town.

  Finally, Teari pulls off the side of the road and parks the Jeep in the shadows of the trees. “We can walk the rest of the way,” she says as she shuts the Jeep off and sets the keys in the cup holder.

  We walk down the road, fear seeping into my chest as I realize what I’m about to do. Offer myself up to Jim on a freakin’ platter and hope to heaven that these people come and save me.

  The road turns bumpy. The asphalt broken, shifted at odd angles. The cover of the trees is gone and in the early morning light I can see nothing but open space, dead grass and trees, and smoke rising from breaks in the ground. It smells like sulfur.

  We stop at a withered tree with nothing but hard-packed dirt ground surrounding it for a few hundred yards.

  Marcus stands with his hands on his hips. “This should be a good spot.” He kicks at the ground.

  Teari walks towards me, pulling a short knife out of the holster on her waist. “I need to cut open your wound, just a little.”

  I look to Sparrow, hoping to get some type of notion from him that it’s okay. He still won’t look at me. I unbutton the top of my shirt, pull the clean bandage off. Teari uses the knife to open the wound, just enough to make it bleed. I hear myself take a sharp intake of breath as she punctures my skin, slides the knife down the red scar where Jim stabbed me.

  “They’ll smell the blood.” She wipes the knife on her black pants before securing it on her waist holster.

  “Because I’m the food.” I leave the shirt open, watch as the blood soaks into my bra.

  “Right.” Teari frowns.

  Teari and Marcus walk away, speaking for a few moments before Teari opens her wings and lifts herself into the sky and disappears.

  “Will you help me up?” I ask Sparrow as we stand next to the barren tree.

  He bends, offering his hands for me to step on, lifting me so I can reach the lower branches. I seat myself on the lowest branch, watch as a drop of blood drips onto the bark near my hand.

  “Give me something, Sparrow.” He gives me a look, since he’s so tall that I’m barely a head above him, I catch every angle of his face. There’s sadness, anger, and something else. “Give me a song to remember, one of your Bon Jovi songs, so I can do this.”

  He tilts his head to the side, studying me. A movement I haven’t seen him make in days. “I don’t want you to do this.”

  “I know.”

  He presses his hand against the rough bark near where my feet dangle. “If I refuse? Will you stop this and try something else?”

  “No. I have to do this. I have to end him. This is the fastest way.” I shake my head, try to clear my mind, change the subject. “Is this because you don’t want to fight Marcus?”

  Sparrow glances back to where Marcus stands on the dusty ground in the early morning light, arms crossed, looking pissed. “Definitely want to kick his ass.”

  “Please?” I ask him, hoping that he sings something before the urge to jump out of this tree and run away overcomes me.r />
  Sparrow takes off his coat, throws it on the ground and reaches his arm across his shoulders, to his back, pulling two feathers from his broken wings. One gray, one white. The gray one, he tucks behind my ear. The white one, he swipes through the blood dripping down my chest, bringing the white feather to his mouth, his tongue flicks out and he tastes it.

  My stomach churns. He’s definitely gone back to being crazy, even with his memories. “That’s kinda gross, Sparrow.”

  His green, green eyes bore into mine. “I’ve lost you too many times. I can’t live with losing you again.”

  “This is the last.” I try to assure him, and myself.

  “You promise?”

  “I promise,” I tell him, hoping to hell that I make it out of this alive.

  “A promise is a promise, Meg.” I nod my head, the image of him ready to leap into that river of the dead after all those feathers flashing through my mind.

  He leans his shoulder against the tree, twirls the blood stained feather in front of his face, and starts to sing Captain Crash & The Beauty Queen from Mars.

  …

  Shirt ripped, fresh blood dripping down my chest, I crawl higher into the tree. From this height I can see the smoking entrance to the burning caves.

  “Just remember, Meg. You and me, we’re invincible together.” Sparrow pushes off the tree and walks to where Marcus is standing a few feet away. He leaves his coat on the ground at the base of the tree.

  It’s those words that make me wonder if this plan is nothing but one big stupid mistake.

  Marcus and Sparrow begin the fight. At first Sparrow just stands there ignoring the advances from Marcus, the taunts, the quick jabbing punches. Sparrow glares. Marcus says something I can’t hear; just as his mouth closes he turns to me and gives a snide glare. I might not be able to hear him, but I can read his lips. I’ve heard those words before: stupid, slut, dead.

  Sparrow moves fast, punching Marcus in the face, every muscle in his body flexing and rippling. Now, it’s a full blown brawl. The spectacle is on. Marcus falls on his back, only to kick Sparrow with both of his feet in the center of his chest. Sparrow staggers back, tries to catch his breath. Marcus leaps to his feet and barrels towards Sparrow, leaping on him, knocking him to the ground. They roll, dust clouding around them.

  My teeth bite into my lip, my nails grip the tree. I hear the sounds I recognize as the dead waking.

  “Oh, Sparrow,” I whisper as the dead amble closer to the spectacle. Looking towards the cave I see forms running towards us. I count them, seven… no, eight. I guess the Deacon was right, food and spectacle will bring those fuckers running.

  I look towards the fight. Now there is a tight circle of the dead around them, ready to grasp at Sparrow and Marcus. The dust clears. There’s blood on both of their faces, scratches on their bodies. Marcus looks around, the dead move closer. He grips Sparrow under his arms, lifts Sparrow into the air, and flies off with him into the pink morning sky.

  …

  This time, the seven men and Jim, they haven’t chased me across my house and up to my room. They’ve simply met me at a tree, where I sit, waiting for them.

  I should have brought a weapon.

  “Ah, Meg.” Jim smiles up at me, same gray eyes, same blonde hair. “I see you’ve come back to me. I always knew you would. Where’s your bird-man? He get bored and flutter off with the rest of his flock?”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.” I grip the bark of the tree tighter, unable to shake the image of Marcus flying away with a fighting Sparrow dangling in his arms. Sparrow was pissed and I’m not sure if it was at me or his kin.

  “Come down then, before I send these men up after you.”

  I start to move, the sweat dripping down my spine and pooling along the waistband of my jeans.

  “Hurry now, Meg.” Jim glances at his wrist. “I don’t have time for your games. I’d like to drain you and make it to Denny’s before the bars let out. I’ve been absolutely dying for a Moons Over My Hammy.”

  I stumble a few times, nearly falling out of the tree, unable to stop my arms from shaking. I drop to the ground, going straight to my knees. Jim pulls me to my feet with a tight grip around my upper arm.

  “You stabbed me in the fucking chest,” I finally say. I want nothing more than to spit in his face, but I hold it in.

  “I’d like to do worse,” Jim replies.

  “You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I ever agreed to marry you.” I flinch, waiting to feel the backhand, but it never comes.

  “Yeah, and I’d like nothing more than to teach you a lesson. But I need to conserve your blood so I can get the hell out of this place. Splattering your insides all over this dirt isn’t going to help me with that.”

  My knees wobble and I start to fall. Sparrow was right, this is a bad idea. Jim hauls me over his shoulder, his hand creeping a little too high on my hamstring.

  The seven men, no… demons, whatever the hell they are, they circle around Jim and keep the walking dead at bay. I can feel the blood from my wound dripping towards my neck now, trailing into my hair as I flop over Jim’s shoulder. My head feels foggy. I think Teari cut the wound open a little more than she needed to.

  Jim walks fast. The morning sunlight disappears as he steps into the cave. The rock hallway is lit with bare bulbs and while I was expecting to smell brimstone or fire, all I notice is the slight scent of woodsmoke and pine.

  Jim takes a few turns. The seven follow. The dead never enter the burning cave, which I find strange but don’t bother to ask about.

  The floor turns from damp rock to dark throw-rugs to aged tile. Jim stops, lowers me to the floor, holds me tight to his side so I don’t drop. He reaches for a heavy wooden door and pushes it open.

  We walk through.

  Jesus Christ, I’ve been brought to the most magnificent bachelor pad ever. There’s overstuffed leather furniture, a flat-screen TV, weapons hang on one wall, a bar is built into another. And there are rows and rows of liquor.

  “Get her a drink,” Jim orders one of the men as he directs me to sit on one of the couches.

  I watch as one of the seven walks towards the bar, grabs a glass from the shelf attached to the rock wall, and pours a dark liquid in it. He pauses, flicking the button on an old-school boombox that sits on the counter. The House of the Rising Sun starts playing.

  “Fucking fantastic,” I mutter to myself. I hate this creepy ass song.

  Jim chuckles. He knows this. He played it every Friday night as I made his dinner. Steak and fries and broccoli. And if I didn’t make it just right, he gave me a punishment I wouldn’t forget. I shudder. I haven’t forgotten.

  The man with the glass walks towards me.

  “What are they?” I ask Jim, tipping my head to the others. “I mean, besides rapists and murderers.”

  “My own personal guard. The King has his Legion of bird-men. I have my own band of elite warriors: the Hellions.”

  I am handed a glass and make the mistake of looking up at the Hellion. Leaning away, sucking in a breath, I remember this one, the scars on his face as he came at me in my house. This was the one that tossed me down the stairs. The ice cube in the glass chinks against the side as my hand shakes. The Hellion gives me an evil smile before turning and joining the others.

  “Drink it. It’s your favorite, bourbon,” Jim urges.

  I look at the dark liquid in the glass. “I hate bourbon.”

  “I know.” He smiles, turns, walks to the wall that holds all the weapons. He removes a short dagger and walks back to where I’m sitting. “This is kinda how we met. Bought you a drink, you drank it, and then the only thing that separated us was something hard and pointy.”

  I down the bourbon. Cough. “You were never that hard.”

  “Well, it’s difficult to get it up for a slut who opens her legs for anyone.” He points the dagger at my throat.

  I try to ignore the seven sets of eyes that are on me and stop myself fro
m looking at the door they brought me through. I hope to hell Sparrow and the others come running in. Settling into the couch, the open space of the room feels cavernous. I need another plan, but my only option is to kick him in the balls and run. Jim steps closer. My heart starts thumping faster than it ever has.

  Oh, wait, I can poof myself out of here! My thumb rubs over the birthmark on my leg. I close my eyes, trying to remember the strange words Sparrow mumbled.

  “Jim?” One of the seven Hellions speaks. My eyes open. “She’s more valuable alive. You can drain her little by little, get what you need to escape and leave her here for us.”

  “What would you want with her?”

  “Maybe you didn’t want to taint your bloodlines, but ours… we could use the ability to flash between realms. Keep us off the radar of those fucking bird-men,” the Hellion replies.

  Jim ponders the thought, the same as I do. And I wonder if that is why I am suddenly so valuable to my father, if he is old and dying and needs heirs to the throne. What better than to have heirs with special powers? Except… my baby-making parts are gone. Cut out of my body after these assholes nearly killed me.

  I let them depict a plan to bleed me almost dry, let me heal, and then use me as their own personal demon breeder, my skin crawling the entire time and I can’t stop thinking, Where the fuck are Sparrow, Teari, and Marcus?

  ……

  Sparrow

  “Take me to the portal!” I shout at Marcus between the flapping of his wings.

  “I don’t take orders from dead men.” He stares straight ahead and continues flying.

  I reach for the machete at my hip, twist, press the tip of it to his groin. “Take me to the portal.”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t go through that portal.”

  “You’re going to get her killed, sending her into that den of demons. She doesn’t stand a chance against those Hellions. They nearly killed her once already.”

  “I don’t give a shit about her. This fuck-up will be your fault. You’re done. Forever. Second chance done and gone. It’s time the heavens moved on and quit wishing you’d come back.”