The City of Crows

by Bethany Anne Lovejoy

  “You’re lying,” I hissed out of my clenched jaw, eyes so tightly shut that I saw white. “You’re lying to me because you’re mad, you’re jealous. You’re upset that I could do it, that I could love someone who is so different from you. You want him to die--”

  “Ah,” finally, he withdrew from me, his vocalization like a sigh of relief. Something he’d long suspected confirmed. “I bet you wanted to save that for him, didn’t you? You always had these romantic ideas, Lyra. Of course, you wanted Leo to hear it first.” My eyes flew open, an indignant response on the tip of my tongue beaten to the chase by his words, “Don’t worry, I’m sure once he’s back from the Lobdel’s he’ll be happy to hear it.”

  All the air left my body, my heart stopped. Through strangled lips, I managed to murmur, “I didn’t say he was at the Lobdel’s.”

  His mouth grew wide, stretching in a way that was almost inhuman. In his forest green eyes, there was a glint, a momentary look of glee. “It’s crazy the sort of things that get around, isn’t it?” His head cocked at me; his eyebrows slightly raised. Danger, that was the word that came to mind. “Hopefully, he doesn’t get so desperate as to sign while you’re away, though I have a feeling that he won’t be able to.”

  “What do you mean--” I began, but it was too late.

  A single blink of my eye and he was gone. Only the cawing of the crows responded to me, flapping wings and throaty calls sounding like the echo of a jeering laugh. My eyes drifted to the sky, as if I could see him go, however he managed to do it. I was met with the spread-out wings of a crow as it soared through the sky.

  18

  Pain

  “Leo?” I called as I entered the apartment; the key Leo had lent me slipping into the lock despite my shaking hands. It was strange, entering without him and yet… No sounds were made upon my entrance, not even the whir of technology or the dripping of faucets. It seemed eerie, too eerie. I stepped into the apartment, kicking off my shoes instinctually as I entered the space, head turning nervously side to side.

  And yet, as if I was afraid of what might come, I avoided the window.

  “Leo,” I called again, finding both the kitchen and livingroom empty. Every step into the apartment seemed too long, too uncomfortable. I knew that the second I entered, there was a risk that Leo would be there. So, I moved slowly in spite of the part of me that wanted nothing more than to run. I crept noiselessly, and I kept my eyes away from the window, in case a stray crow might threaten me out of doing far more sensible things.

  The urge to call his name once more was immense, I knew that once I did it, I would want nothing more than to keep calling for him. Rowan was crazy, that was what I had to keep reminding myself. Rowan was crazy and Leo was fine. He didn’t have the brightest ideas, but he would be safe. Pat Lobdel wouldn’t attempt anything, she was a politician first and foremost. No, he would be here. He had to be there, there was no where else to go, nowhere else for him to go.

  I listened carefully as my eyes scanned the room, listening for the slightest noise, the smallest sound that he could be there. I was rewarded with the slow, languished sound of dripping, far enough away that I had to strain to hear it. It didn’t put my mind to rest at all, and my body jerked in the direction of it. A single line of light, white and cold, came from underneath the bathroom door. My stomach sank. I wanted to call out, but I was too afraid that there would be no answer. Seeing that light, hearing that sound; I couldn’t imagine what silence following it would feel like.

  I crept towards the door, filling my lungs before I thought to do anything foolish. With that breath, one that seemed to stay in my mouth and never actually hit my airway, I grabbed the doorhandle.

  I exhaled.

  Slowly and silently, I brought down the door handle. I needed to do it that way, I needed time to mentally prepare myself. Fear, the kind that you feel in your shoulders and back like a phantom pain, soaked into my skin. I closed my eyes, counting to five before my hip made contact with the door, shoving it open with all of my weight.

  The door swung open and I could not find a way to stay on my feet. I came tumbling into the bathroom and was stopped by a hand flying to my waist before I could make contact with the ground, the owner’s other hand still firmly grabbing onto his towel.

  “Woah!” A familiar voice cried out in warning, while hauling me back onto my feet as his hands readjusted the knot at his waist to be further accident proof. “Lyra, you need to knock first,” Leo chided, withdrawing almost immediately. “I was just about to get out and get changed.”

  I withdrew like my skin was on fire, my cheeks burning. Looking over at the other person beside me. Leo stood dripping wet, a look of astonishment painted across his face. A long expanse of wet skin stared back at me; tight muscles hidden behind light sprinklings of body hair. I ripped my eyes away from his lower half and concentrated on his face, or at least I tried to... The soaked skin of his face lurking dangerously near was no better. I finally picked a spot on the wall behind him and chose to focus on that instead.

  “Lyra, are you okay…?” He began to ask, hands once again reaching for me.

  I avoided the contact, hastily muttering, “Yes, just… here.” Oh my god, I’d almost seen him—

  “Okay,” said Leo, his voice strained. “Well, that’s good…” He coughed, the sort of awkward cough that one makes when in a situation they deem to be highly uncomfortable. I couldn’t fault him for it, this wasn’t exactly an ideal way to great each other, not now. Likely it was far worse for him than me—scratch that, it was definitely far worse, I had my clothes on. “Listen, you just stay in here and I’ll…” He trailed off, catching just how red I was. At that moment, I wished I’d never worried about Leo to begin with.

  “Yeah, you go in your room and change, and I’ll just stay here and wait,” I finished for him.

  “Right,” Leo said with an awkward nod, clumsily stepping around me. “Then you can begin to explain why you left today,” he cast a worried look over his shoulder, pulling the door to the living space open.

  “That’s, um—” I began to say, desperately searching for a reason as the door shut quietly behind him. Coming up with none, a half truth was preferable. “You said you would be gone until late!” I called through the door, pressing myself against it so that he would hear it.

  “It is late,” Leo chuckled on the other side of the room, the clattering of drawers almost drowning out his voice. “Very late, in fact, I don’t know if you noticed that it’s already night. I was worried when you weren’t home.”

  “That’s…” God, why couldn’t I speak? Why were all the words that came to me then the wrong ones? I set my head against the door with a sigh, wishing I had the wonderful gift of articulation rather than a gift for opening my mouth and letting absolute nonsense tumble out. “I just, I needed air. I was worried about you, that something bad would happen. I didn’t like the idea of you going to the Lobdel’s, not after everything that’s happened.”

  “The Lobdel’s?” Leo asked, an exasperated edge to his voice. I heard the floor creek, the doorknob of the bathroom jiggle to reveal him standing in front of me, drying his hair with a towel, his chest was still bare but at least he was wearing pajama pants now. With the stretch of his torso, he revealed the faintest glimpse of cotton gathered on elastic, the top of his boxers. “You were right, Pat wasn’t helpful at all. Too focused on her own needs to help me, it was a huge disappointment.”

  It appeared that Pat and I had something in common at that moment, as I struggled to tear my eyes away from his lean, muscular chest. I told myself that I was looking for any sign that he might have been hurt. “Yeah?”

  “She was really evasive,” Leo shrugged, finally finishing with his towel. He slid by me, his body just inches from mine as he passed me to throw his towel over the glass shower door to dry. “More focused on her other guests, even when I tried to get her attention. She double booked me, a bunch of guys showed up halfway through my meeting with
her.”

  “There were other people?” I asked, my eyes widening.

  But to Leo, it was of no concern. He pushed past me once more, sighing heavily. “No closer today, huh?” His genuine disappointment was audible. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that actually, we were far closer, but I wasn’t sure if we should actually pursue the proposed solution I’d found. “You want tea again, or do you need coffee? More importantly, have you eaten? Maybe we should order Greek today.”

  I was taken aback by the normalcy. “I-I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  Leo snorted, giving me a smirk in return. “No, I don’t think you will. It’s not your style. Maybe you should have lemon lavender tonight? Or something more calming, you seem on edge.” Momentarily, he paused, considering something for a moment before moving once more. In three long strides, he was in front of me, the back of his hand across my brow. “Thank god, you’re not sick. At least I think you’re not—”

  My hand caught his wrist and he blinked at me, head cocked in confusion. That reaction too, was normal. And yet, Rowan still haunted me. “What are you drinking? What have you been drinking?”

  His mouth opened, then closed. For a moment, he looked dazed by the question, but he replied with an even tone. “Fennel, green tea, turmeric, ginger, rosehip, and a dash of corydalis. There’s vinegar too; it’s not good. I, uh, probably should have mentioned it before, but I didn’t want you to worry too much. Since I’m at the end of my curse, I’m…”

  “You’re still in pain,” I summarized, recognizing the plants. “You’re in a lot of pain.”

  “Again,” he said, his face softening as I slowly released his arm. “I didn’t want you to worry, Lyra.”

  “Yvie—”

  “Is a talented potioner, I know,” he looked away quickly, heading once more towards the kitchen. “It seemed like a bit much to ask that you convince her to do it, or even make the potion yourself. I didn’t want to cause you any more difficulties than I already have, I’ve already torn you away from your life. It didn’t seem fair to keep asking over and over again for more than that.”

  “Leo…” The one thing that I could have done in the end, the one gift I could have given him, and he wouldn’t even have told me about it. “About all of this…”

  He knew. He immediately knew what I was going to say, how I was going to say it, and that there was no way to get me not to. But still, he tried. His voice, tender, pleading me, saying my name so preciously, clinging to it like a life raft. “Lyra…”

  “What if I can’t help you anymore?” God, my throat constricted as I said it, it was like being strangled right then and there. I didn’t want this, I didn’t want it at all, but it was my only chance. “What if I know now that there’s no way to help you,” a lie, an awful lie. Yet it was the kindest lie I could tell. “What if all I could give you is those potions?”

  “Lyra, come on, that’s—”

  “I’m serious, Leo.” Sick, I felt sick. This was it, the moment that I would look back on in shame. I was letting him down, I was lying to him, and god help me, I was in love with him. “Leo, I don’t think I can do this anymore. If that means—”

  “It doesn’t mean that,” Leo said, his fist balling at his side. It was a confirmation of something I’d always known, that he couldn’t ever bear to be the one to rip my dreams of humanity away from me. “It never meant that.”

  “Then…” Did my eyes betray me? Were they as glassy and heavy with tears that threatened to spill over as I thought they would be? “Leo, I can make you the potions, I can get you enough to last these last few weeks, but I can’t—”

  “You can’t make it stop,” he said, allowing himself to fall against the couch, a dullness filling his eyes. I wondered what he thought then, I wondered what comes to mind when you know that someday, someday real soon, you would be dead. “Two weeks,” he murmured, resigning himself to his fate. I wish it wasn’t like that, I wish that it was something easy. “My mother… My aunts… You.” You. The weight that he put on that word was indescribable.

  “I…” I love you, I want to be beside you, I don’t want to live in a world without Leo Hoang smiling at me. “I will make the potions, I promise. You won’t feel anything.” Coward. God, I was always such a fucking coward. “But I need to go home to do it,” and there I was, running away again.

  “Right,” his strangled tone made it clear that he wanted anything but that. He was dying, he would die, and I was going to leave him there alone. After so long, after cutting nearly everyone out of his life for their own good, he finally had a friend, and here I was, leaving him.

  If my mother was there, she would have slapped my back and told me that I could do better, that a real woman would do better. She wouldn’t have had the emotional response that I had, but she would have had a sort of certainty to her. She would have been able to decide not to help Leo right away and stand by her words when she did. If he somehow convinced her to help him, she would have fought tooth and nail to save him. Lydia Wynne would have been twice the woman I was.

  But I was where she should have been. Uselessly, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, head tucked in by his neck as I desperately fought back the part of me that wanted to cry. I clutched him close, my fingernails digging into him as I couldn’t bear to let him go. I hoped, despite it all, that he couldn’t hear me, that Leo heard no trace of the sob that desperately climbed up my throat and fought at my lips for release. I wanted, more than anything, to be remembered by Leo as someone kind, but just not capable of what he needed.

  I hoped that when I pulled back, he wouldn’t see the regret in my eyes, the genuine desire to do better for him. No matter what it was, no matter if Rowan was telling the truth or there was something greater going on, I couldn’t let him get hurt. Doing this, not telling him what I knew in my soul; that was kindness. And yet, when I pulled back and his hand ever so gently reached for my face, cradling my cheek as if I was an object made of glass; I knew that he saw beyond me, beyond the act that I had put on. I knew that Leo saw the sheer and terrifying love in my eyes.

  19

  Empty Goodbyes

  Rain.

  That’s how it began so it seemed fitting that that would be how it ended. It poured down from the sky and soaked into my bones, soaking through the wool of the flimsy jacket I wore, of my pulled-up hood’s lining. Every single drop could be felt, the cold an inescapable part of reality. That was how it should end, wasn’t it? Me in the rain, powerless, wishing that I was capable of more.

  In the bag underneath my arm, glass bottles clinked, courtesy of Yvie since she declared that it wasn’t a good idea to risk me making the potions. There was something else too that she declared, and unlike me, she chose to say it. “You know, I’m tired of you giving up, Lyra.” The look on her face said it all. I couldn’t help it; I was disappointed too. All of this time I thought I was a good person, a strong person. I rolled my eyes at the world around me. And yet, here I was, standing in the rain outside the subway, waiting for Leo to come so that I could push him out of my life all over again. And then what would I do?

  A self-sacrifice for his own good, but I doubted he’d agree.

  All I could do was hope the potions were strong enough, hope that he wouldn’t feel any pain before it happened. Two weeks, that was all he had, enough time to get some affairs in order but not enough to live a full life. A part of me wished that I’d never agreed to help him, if only because it would have given him more time to come to terms with things. Maybe he would have had time to see his mother before he went, maybe he wouldn’t have wasted every second on a useless witch. I thought again of the girl in the portrait near the door, she may have been married, but maybe if he told her then she would have agreed to spend time with him, let him be by someone who he once loved. Leo didn’t deserve to be alone.

  I huddled further into my coat at the thought. A part of me was afraid that he wouldn’t even show up, that instead he’d choose suffering
over saying goodbye. But I knew Leo, and I knew that he wouldn’t be able to stay away. He would come, he wouldn’t leave me waiting for him. Rowan told me that I didn’t want to sell my soul, but maybe it would have been worth it if it was for Leo.

  I tried to brush the hair that was plastered across my face out of the way, hoping that if I willed it to, the rain would stop. The amazing thing was that, almost immediately, it did. For a moment, I thought that somehow, I’d done it, my face turning towards the heavens as if a miracle had occurred, but then I opened my eyes.

  “Hi,” Leo’s voice breathed, and I began to wonder if it was still the rain splattered across my face or the tears falling from my eyes. “You should really put your hood up, Lyra, you’ll get sick if you sit out in the rain like this,” his voice was just a murmur, almost inaudible.

  I gripped the fabric of my coat between my fingers, staring back at him. Any noise I could have made, any words I could have said, didn’t come to me. Instead, I stared helplessly, watching as the rain cascaded over us and down the side of his transparent umbrella, soaking the cement beneath my skin.

  You forget how someone looks in the seconds that you don’t see them. In my head, Leo’s dark eyes, the full apples of his cheeks, and his wavy black hair falling just slightly into his line of sight; handsome, but not impossibly so. They were a lot less beautiful than they were in real life. Looking at him, taking in the slight pink rim of his eyes, redness of his nose, and the place on his lip where he bit down too frequently as of late; it only made it harder. His face was a vision, the sadness that coated it a nightmare.

  He waited for a response, when he realized that one would not come, he lowered himself to sit down beside me. A slight splash sounded as he sat on the steps beside me, not even flinching at the water droplets that no doubt crawled up under his coat. “So, two weeks, huh?” He asked, his hand hoisting the umbrella higher over us so that the metal prongs wouldn’t touch the top of my head.