The City of Crows

by Bethany Anne Lovejoy

“You call her ruthless,” I began, “but look at Landon, look at what you did to your own cousin!”

  Rowan turned, his mouth agape in astonishment as a single finger rose. For a moment, it seemed like he was incapable of speech, but then, slowly, a sound began to form. Strangled, just low enough that I could barely hear, he said, “Do you think that I’m the only one who has sold their soul away? Do you think I’d kill him? Lyra, I may have roughed him up a bit, but that wasn’t me. I grew up with him, he was one of my closest friends for the longest time.”

  “What do you mean—”

  “God, he barely told me anything—”

  “What are you saying—”

  “I just wish that he had opened his eyes and realized—”

  Auburn hair, dark red lips, a mustard yellow turtleneck tucked into a high waisted skirt. That was what we saw when we turned the corner, a voice drawled, in a soft, yet heavily accented voice, “you’re late.” God help me.

  Autumn.

  Or was it? I couldn’t tell. Maybe that was what made her more dangerous, made the world seem more awful. You know someone, you think you really do, but then they’re not the person you thought. They’re someone else, wearing their face like a mask, waiting in the corner to take you as well. Autumn, she was supposed to be sweet, she was supposed to be kind, bubbly and emptyheaded but not this. Not… Oh god, not a murderer.

  How long? Since the Greenman I supposed. That’s why she was insistent, that’s why she dragged us over to Landon. She had to confirm that it was Leo, saying his name wrong was so no one realized that she’d said it over and over again. She pressured Landon to tell us more, was that her or him? Was it really Autumn playing us or someone else? Lurking around the Lobdels, looking tearful; was that just so someone would offer to help her find him? Of course, she saw him enter the closet, of course she called the goons; she was the only person keeping her eyes peeled for him. It wasn’t that Landon had told us where to find the crossroads, no, that wasn’t the whole of it. It was that, after she’d used him up and gotten him to tell us all that we needed, he had the nerve to call Rowan and let him know. That’s why Rowan showed up, that’s why Rowan tried to stop me.

  Autumn was a part of this the whole time, and Rowan was futilely attempting to fix it.

  “Oh Lyra, he has been asking for you,” she breathed, that same, happy, carefree tone in her voice. It wasn’t anyone else, it was her all along. “The guest of honor, the crown jewel. I’m so happy that we’re going to experience this together, aren’t you?” She turned to Rowan, beaming, a sickly air to her words, “Aren’t you glad, Rowan? Lyra’s finally back.”

  Rowan’s jaw tightened, his eyes averting hers as she reached forward, sharpened nails clutching my skin, poking through the gaps in the yarn. She began to walk, dragging me with, not moving in the same direction Rowan was, rather approaching the east wing. He’d led me to the building, but he had been leading me away.

  “Leo’s going to be so happy to see you,” Autumn grinned.

  25

  An Exciting Disappointment

  Salt. That was the first word that came to mind, the first thing that assaulted my senses, coating the air so thick that I could taste it. It soaked the moisture from the air, serving to amplify the magic at play. There was no apparent source of it, not one that I could see, but it was everywhere. Down the hall, in the east side chamber, coating the ground grinding beneath our feet; it was inescapable. It lingered in the air, coated the fixtures, and clung to my skin. Nowhere could I turn my head without the flavor, a dryness overcoming my tongue and only getting worse as Autumn opened the door in front of me, pushing me in so that I stumbled forward.

  I only caught the slightest glimpse of the plaque on the wall before stumbling to the ground, grimacing at the word reflected in gold lettering. The Heritage Room, how fitting, it was nice to know that irony was not lost on those who dwelled in hell.

  I suppose this was where, if there ever were to be an event celebrating witches, it would be held. Yet another place to remember those who fell, to realize that New Haven was built on the ashes of witches. It only seemed fitting that the ancestors of those very witches had set forth deals to take it all back.

  My cheek hit the side of a blue, woolen rug, smashing my jaw shut. No doubt there would be bruises, but those paled in comparison to the pain of the future. Behind me, the doors groaned shut, blue high heels and black leather shoes strolling into the room. The gang was all there, I figured from the scarlet red pumps in my vision, a pair of brown loafers to the left. There were more, far too many more. I didn’t allow my eyes to travel the room, lest I see how many were there and became unsettled. How many had I passed on the street? How many had I spoken to? How many did I know more intimately than I should? These facts shouldn’t have mattered, not in the end. I needed to keep a level head, I needed to keep my thoughts straight. This was not a situation I wanted to be in.

  My head rolled against the carpet, hands pressing to either side of me in an attempt to get back to my feet. I fought the urge to groan, refusing to show any weakness as I slowly rose from the ground, steadying myself and facing forward. Familiarity, the gaunt, wrinkled face of the man who had once barged into my mother’s home all those years ago greeted me, grinning so that every single one of his yellowed teeth showed. Not a single face in the crowd matched his, the owner of his guise having long since passed away. He was the only one who sat, perched in the middle of them all on an ornate, throne-like chair likely taken from another room, I’d seen it used by the judges of the higher courts in New Haven. Upon realizing that I saw him too, he only grew more delighted, limbs stretching so that his bare feet could touch the ground; the blue suit he wore doing little to cover the bony expanse of his ankles.

  “A gift,” Autumn told him, her smirk audible in her voice. “Just as you predicted, wandering the halls. Rowan seemed to have gotten her a bit lost, but don’t worry, I’ve brought her to you, master.” I could feel her beam as the man nodded in her direction, dismissing her.

  “Lyra,” his familiar voice wheezed, his fingers tightening around the armrests of his chair. “I knew I would see you again, but for it to be so soon truly is a blessing.” Taking in my face, he continued, “Oh, should I switch into something a bit more palatable for you? You seem upset, I forgot how much this face worries you—”

  “Don’t!” I snapped, my jaw tightening as I finally stood up to my full height. I didn’t want to see it again; I didn’t need to see it again. Worse yet, I didn’t want to see what face he would show me, not if it was Leo’s. “Please, just, stay… that way,” that awful, unsettling way. Age and wear were better than the alternatives, better than the nightmares that lurked in the back of my mind. “I-I remember, I prefer it this way.”

  “As you desire,” the man croaked, slightly disappointed yet not complaining. “You are, after all, my honored guest. It would be rude to defy your wishes, especially after the length of time that we’ve been apart. Why, you were only six, and now look at you; a young woman. A shame, it’s just as it was then, you look so little like your mother. I suppose that must upset her.” As if I didn’t know, he added, “to have to look at his face every time she sees you, what a tremendous pain she must feel.”

  “This isn’t about her,” I growled.

  “Oh,” he said with a sigh, “I suppose you’re right. This isn’t about righting wrongs, taking back payment for what has been stolen, or revenge; not for you. But for me…” he cocked his head, with a sickening crunch that sounded like bones rearranging themselves. “I suppose for me it’s about all of those things, so you’ll have to excuse me. Looking at you now, seeing that you are nearly the same age she was; it feels right, it feels like retribution. Give or take, a few extra years of your lifespan, but—I think that’s only fair, don’t you? Revenge should garner interest of some sort, should it not?” Finally, he stood, his body stretching to a nearly inhuman height, the suit that he wore riding higher on his limbs. “Lydia played
an unfair game, but you’re not like Lydia, are you? You won’t try to cheat me, to tell me that you no longer want my gifts, will you? Not when I promise you the boy with them, then you can’t say no, can you? You’ll play my games, you’ll heed my call without resistance, unlike that woman.” He paused, tongue running across dry, cracked lips, “a shame, I thought that Lydia would come to try to stop you. Looks like I haven’t hit quite the right nerve yet, but maybe, when I show up at her door with her daughter’s face then I will.”

  “Maybe she had faith in me,” I said.

  “Maybe,” doubt was heavy in his voice, almost as heavy as the humor. He fought back a laugh, stating, “You know, you’re far different than I thought you would be. I sent all these poor, cursed souls in Lydia’s direction for years, hoping that she would show an ounce of kindness, then be led back to me, enticed by the promise of power. But I do the same thing to you and look at you, it wasn’t pity that you felt. How cute of you, Lyra, to have fallen in love with a man who is so near death, who you shouldn’t have even thought twice about when passing by in the street. I whispered your name to him, enticements to find you now that you were away from Lydia, and he did it. But I didn’t know how far it would go from there, how far you would go.” A step closer, his naked feet upon the wooden floors crunching the salt beneath them, his voice deceptively soft as he cooed, “You have a soft spot for humans, Lyra. It’s endearing. Suddenly you didn’t need to be lured away from him, not when I realized that the promise of power would not sway you. No, lucky me, you were so in love. How long for, I am unaware, but I am certain that doesn’t matter.”

  “I don’t need a play by play,” I said, my voice carrying louder in the chamber, upsetting the throngs of people around him. Hushed murmurs rose and fell like a wave, beady eyes on my flesh. Let them stare, let them remember me as I am. “I was there, remember?”

  “Oh, but we’re just getting to the juicy part,” he continued, his body practically vibrating with excitement. A little distance still remained between us, but with every motion he grew closer and my gut sunk lower. “The part that you don’t know about, those small little moments that you’ve missed. Don’t you want to know, Lyra, how he came in here, Rowan and him both pleading, take Leo instead of her. I agreed, of course, but only because I knew that you’d come. Don’t you want to know how he threw your phone to Rowan, how he begged, pleaded with him to just show you that last message, and my selfish little Rowan deleted it? I knew, how could I not? But I tried to have faith for that moment was a nice little treat for the human. I bet you want to know more, I bet you want to know how scared he was, trying to act brave yet I could smell the fear coming off him in waves.” He relished in the way my mouth dropped, color leeching from my skin. This was what he wanted, a reaction, misery from the pores of Lyra Wynne, a fitting case of retribution if he could never hope to upset my mother. “Oh, I guess you don’t, do you?”

  Wide eyes, knives down my throat and stomach as I turned to Rowan. He was the easier one to look at the, the evil I knew how to face. Petty and cruel, he was honest at the very least, and what I needed now was that honesty.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you, Lyra. I would never hurt you,” his voice breathed in my ear, close, far too close. I doubted that he meant what he said. The expanse that was eons wide had now narrowed, only inches stood between us due to my insolence. I tore my eyes away from Rowan, looking to the other man once more, frightened to see his features rearrange once again. Familiar eyes floating across his face, narrow lips and a pointed nose; I’d stared at that face literally seconds before. “To make you more comfortable,” Rowan’s voice breathed, and my eyes flew back between the original and this, noting the being that stood in front of me to be a near replica, and yet a mockery all the same.

  “I’m not more comfortable,” I spoke through tight lips, careful this time not to look away for too long again. There were consequences to face if I did, things that I didn’t want to see. “If anything, I’m more upset. Angrier.”

  “A shame,” the man spoke. “I want you to be happy, Lyra, I really do,” my hands balled at my side, my breath catching in my throat. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes, nothing more than to look away. Every word he spoke was an abomination, Rowan’s mouth and features moving too much or too little. There was no in-between, no reprieve from this hell. It was watch, or else. But the man took no offense to my disgust, in fact, he relished in it. “You want Leo, I’ll give you Leo and whatever else it is your little heart desires. Just one little signature and he’s yours, you can have the boy and everything you’ve ever wanted. Just one teensy, little signature. A life for a life, the simplest exchange I’ve ever promised.”

  “I want to see him first,” my mouth moved faster than my mind, some invisible logic overcoming me. I needed to know he was okay, needed to know that nothing had happened to him yet, so that I didn’t make any mistakes. I wanted Leo, my Leo, not whatever recreation the man could piece together from the scraps. “I want to see him and know that he’s okay before I do anything, before I so much as think about signing anything. You show me him, and then… and then…” And then what? Signing felt less viable by the second. Living this life, waiting on hand and foot for this man, losing a part of myself? And what happened when I saw Leo, would he even let me sign? I was sure that there was no other way out, no other solution. But… “I won’t agree to anything if I don’t see him,” I stated. My mind raced behind my eyes, I wondered if he knew that.

  “You want to see the boy?” He said, nevermind the fact that Leo was far from a boy at this point. Others stood straighter at this revelation, the circle shifting open further in the area where he once stood as he turned away from me. They understood him, seeming to move to his exact wishes. It was important that he got me, no matter what the cost. Of course, he’d let me see Leo, if only to encourage me onwards.

  Still, his face lingered too long despite it. A part of me worried that there was no place to go, the people around us were only moving to escape the gaze of his shifting face. The cracks and crunches in front of me did little to settle my mind, my hair raising at the seemingly never-ending sounds.

  For a single, horrifying moment, I thought that Leo’s face would be the one looking back at me. Thankfully, blissfully, it was the old man once more that looked over his shoulder, his back straightening, adding more height to him as his limbs gradually elongated. With one, bony finger, he beckoned me to follow him, his lungs inhaling another wheezing breath.

  The slightest glimpse, I looked to Rowan, his head moving just barely in a nod. He stepped to the side, body inching towards his own exit. Forward it was, then.

  The man’s hand trailed behind him, as if expecting me to take it. I didn’t, nor did I move closer. I kept the same distance, moving at the same, mind-numbing speed that he did across the room. All eyes on us, not a hint of kindness in front of us. A simple white door stood in the distance, so small and plain in contrast to the majesty of the room that it almost seemed to blend in.

  “An artist,” the man mused in front of me, “Lydia would have never.”

  “I’m not Lydia,” I curtly informed him.

  “No,” he breathed, disappointment in his words, “you’re not.” There was something more to that, an almost accusation, an air of, ‘Lydia wouldn’t be here but here you are’.

  I was glad to disappoint.

  The man’s hand wrapped around the doorknob, a simple white spark traveling from skin to metal. In response, a clunk sounded, the noise of metal shifting out of the lock. His hand turned, a sharp jerk to the side, and then he pulled it open, revealing the contents of the smallest room to me.

  26

  Many Faces in the Closet

  My mind went blank, I could not move. No thoughts crossed my mind, I wasn’t capable of it. Not when faced with Leo, not then. Not with the way that he looked.

  Black. That’s the first thing I saw, the only thing I could really see. It was all consuming. A thick
black trail from his mouth, pooling into the divet at the front of his neck, just below his collarbone, and dripping further and further down his front, soaking soot-colored stains into the fabric of his grey t-shirt. Deep, red bruises painted landscapes across the canvas of his skin, blood still pooling underneath the thinnest portions, spreading further and further like ink hitting the surface of water. His eyes, his gleaming, intelligent eyes were shut, not a flicker of motion upon the sound of the door opening. His chest did not move, his nose did not twitch; the only sign of life was the curl of his fingers, growing tensing and releasing as he drifted further and further away, deeper into whatever land he lay. A soft, hollow breath escaped his body, the sound of all the air leaving at one, followed by another ragged gasp.

  They’d propped him up against the corner of a broom closet, his head lulling amongst the shelves, hands spread to either side of him as half of his body leaned against the mundanity of cleaning supplies and the other half propped up against the brick wall. His eyes swollen beyond recognition, cheeks collapsed under the weight of whatever unearthly thing had happened to him; this was not the Leo Hoang I knew, not the one who left the apartment. His charming smile and expressive features were gone, marred by the reality of the cruelty that whatever those beings were were capable of. I’d almost hoped that it wasn’t him, I wanted to believe that it wasn’t him more than anything. But I knew, I could recognize Leo from miles away, I could hear his voice on the shoreline while I drowned; I would always know Leo. I would always be able to recognize him.

  But this… I was frozen at first, the pain of tears that threatened to fall burning at my eyes. Leo, I needed him to wake up, to look me in the eyes and tell me he was okay. I couldn’t do it without him, I could even begin to process my situation without Leo at my side. Whether we were meant to know each other or not, Leo was mine. I may have been his North Star, but he was my guiding light. The world didn’t make sense without Leo, and if he didn’t awaken… I shuddered to think of it. There would be no selling my soul, but I supposed there would also be no leaving. Yet, despite needing to know more than anything else in this world, my feet felt heavy as lead, moving was an impossible feat. It was only when his head lulled, just a little to the side, not even of his on volition, that I found myself able to move forward once more.