“Uh, because you murdered our parents,” Charlie spat.
Nora clutched her temples, trying to stop the world from spinning.
“You could stay here, Nora,” Charles continued. “We both know you want to.”
A tear materialized on Nora’s cheek. She hadn’t felt it fall. How could she argue with Charles when what he said was true?
He extended a hand to her. “Here. It’s okay. We’ll go back to Virgo Bay and you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”
Nothing to be afraid of. The thought filled her with warmth like hot soup on a cold day. But the promise came from the man who’d started her cycle of fear to begin with. She finally felt herself land, the cold of the pavement seeping in through the bottomof her pants, though she barely noticed it. She wanted nothing more than to be back at the bay, screaming into the angry sea. No, what she really wanted was to go back to the moments before she ever found Charlie’s file, to live there forever. No, what she really wanted was a life where Mom and Dad were never stolen from her. No, she no longer knew what she wanted. It was all a blur of promise and loss and pain and hope and she couldn’t sift through any of it.
“Nora,” came Charles’s voice again, soft and saccharine. “Come along now. It’s okay. I know how to make this all better. After all, you’re just like me.”
This drew a snort from somewhere above her. She looked up to find Charlie shaking his fluffy head. “Bullshit,” he said.
“He’s right,” said Nora, voice barely a whisper.
“Bullshit,” Charlie said again. “You’re not going with him.” It wasn’t a demand, it was an observation.
“Charlie, I can’t do this. You have too much faith in me.”
“Bullshit,” said Charlie again.
“Bullshit,” Jessica echoed.
“You’re not like this nasal douchefuck,” said Charlie. “He sacrificed his own brother to save his ass, while you’ve been out here risking your ass to save your brother. That’s, like, the literal opposite of this guy. Don’t let him get in your head, Nor. He’s a weak little sweater-vest-wearing weasel. If he was in your shoes, I’d be dead ten times over by now. Hell, if he had his way, I still would be. Can you really live for eternity with the guy who killed our parents? Can you really let him get away with that, just to not have to worry about, like, getting struck by lightning or whatever? Nah, I don’t think you can. Actually, fuck it, I know you can’t. I know you better than you do, and definitely better thanhe does; all I have to do is look at you and I know exactly what you’re thinking. And right now you’re thinking you’re going to make that goddamn call.”
Nora’s eyes flitted between Charles’s extended hand and the phone receiver dangling just above her. There had never been a choice between them. Not really. Charlie might see her with the rose-colored glasses of a brother who had no one else, but he was right about one thing: just like she was always going to sacrifice everything to save her brother, she was always going to make that call. For all the fear that ruled her, no matter what Charles said, she was her father’s daughter first, and Martin Bird was a stubborn fuck. Nora, it turned out, had inherited more from him than she’d realized.
She dragged herself back to her feet by her own power, grabbing the phone as she pulled herself upright.
“This is disappointing,” said Charles, voice even. He drew his other hand from his coat pocket, a knife in his fist. Nora knew that knife. It was the same one she had seen inches from Charlie’s head on their first night in Virgo Bay. Part of her still struggled to reconcile the mild-mannered uncle she knew with the person who’d been constantly on the verge of causing Charlie’s death. Though she didn’t have much time for reconciling now—Charles lunged towards the twins, knife raised and poised to strike.
29
The knife shone silver against the colorless day, its tip sharp and gleaming. Nora buried herself behind her arms, already imagining the defensive wounds in her autopsy report. A cacophony of squawks and beating wings erupted. When the knife blade didn’t strike her, Nora lowered her arms to find Jessica accosting Charles in a flurry of scratching talons. Charles ducked, swatting her away, aiming his knife at the bird.
“Nora!” Charlie hollered amid the feathered frenzy. He held the phone to her. “Call. Now. Please.”
Nora looked back at the scuffle. Jessica had taken to the air to avoid the striking weapon, Charles’s scratched face aflame with rage as he refocused his attention on the twins.
“But—” Nora started. She couldn’t let this be the moment Charlie died. Not after everything.
“You’ve saved me enough,” said Charlie. “I’m returning the favor. Now, call.” He lifted a broken piece of metal pipe from among the assorted trash on the ground and swung it in front of him as Charles barreled towards him.
Nora’s shaking hands punched in the number and held thereceiver to her ear, wrapping the cord around her so she could keep herself facing the unfolding battle.
“Hello and thank you for calling Secure Collection, Yielding, and Transportation of Human Essences,” said a robotic voice on the other end. “If you know the extension you’re trying to reach, please dial it now. To speak to an operator, please press zero.”
Nora stabbed the zero with her index finger as Charles’s knife plunged through the thick fabric of Charlie’s jacket into his shoulder.
“Charlie!” Nora screamed.
“I’m okay,” came the reply from between gritted teeth as Charlie swatted at his uncle with the pipe.
“Hello, you have reached the central offices of S.C.Y.T.H.E., this is Pranav speaking.”
“I…” Nora’s voice wavered. “I’m calling to report a Blind Spot.”
