He leaned back, watching you intently, gaze following the path of your fork to your mouth. “I keep bolt-holes around the country. I will always have a safe place for you to land, Little Bird.”
As you ate, he told you about some of the other places he’d visited when he left you in the Birdcage; as far away as Alaska where the ice and snow were still pure and white. A mountain in the far west, so high that it rose over the black and sooty clouds to show the night sky, filled with stars. A massive glass greenhouse fortified with iron and salt and shaped curses to repel the Night Brethren, where fruits and vegetables grew, with birds and other small creatures that escaped the toxic bombs. You listened, rapt and enchanted, not daring to make a sound that would distract him and make him stop.
“And the most beautiful, Little Bird. A house far up the coastline, a fortress constructed from granite. Fortified against centuries of ocean storms. The water is no longer grey there, but-”
“Blue,” you interrupted. “Ocean blue, like your eyes.”
His chuckle was low this time, and John leaned closer, head tilted. “Why, my sweet girl. Have you been thinking about me? My eyes … other parts, perhaps?”
Your face felt like it was on fire, your hands flying to your red cheeks. “I don’t-” You chanced a glance at him and there was no mocking gleam in his eye, no taunting bit of fang showing as it had sometimes before. “I don’t know,” you admitted, hands slowly sliding down to your lap again.
He was leaning closer, no breath, silent, and you could hear the quiet sound of the fire. The heat was still simmering under your cheeks, the warmth languidly sliding down your throat, to your breasts, and lower still. Your breath came faster and the chill from his closeness felt good against your burning skin. Then, the press of his full lips against your cheek and he drew back again, grinning as a tiny, protesting whine escaped your mouth.
“You need your rest, Little Bird. I must gather more information. We’ll speak again when you wake.”
The whispers and scuttles like the sound of claws on bones made you turn. You were on that mountaintop John had told you about, high above the boiling clouds of pitch and feeling the sunshine on your face. But then the dark, a thick, impenetrable blanket of it was creeping up the mountain, blotting out all color or life until the last granite boulder you stood on shook under the force of everything beneath you being torn apart. You heard the whispers, the screams, the frantic chittering of a thousand ravenous mouths….
Shooting up in bed, you pushed away bedsheets wet with the sweat of your terror and heaved in oxygen, trying to breathe.
“They’re outside the gate.” John was leaning against the windowsill, looking out over the blue-black landscape. “It seems they’ve found you, Little Bird.”
Getting out of bed, you came closer, going no further than the arm he put between you and the window. Outside, the shadows roiled and curled around the stone wall guarding the house. When you looked closely, you could swear little tendrils of the shadows elongated to reach toward the house, slipping through cracks in the stone, desperate hands reaching for you.
Pulling the heavy velvet curtains closed, he wrapped a warm robe around you, helping you place each arm in the sleeves and tying the belt around your waist.
“They’re my family, too, aren’t they?”
Looking up at you, John’s eyes were wide, as if surprised for the first time in your decade with him. “Family, Little Bird? They are abominations.”
“They were carried in their mother’s wombs, just like I was,” you nodded firmly. “But when they tore their way out, they were thrown out into the night and called abominations. They never knew anything else.”
Frowning, he smoothed his hands up and down your arms. “I’m going to bathe you, and then you can eat and we'll talk.”
“But … that’s why they were outside your mansion all those years?” It was daring to push him, you knew that. But this new, softer John didn’t seem inclined to punish you. “They were drawn to each other. Were they drawn to me, too?”
“I’m not sure,” he said slowly, “I only knew their hunger grew every time they saw you in the window. There were times I wasn’t sure the sigils and cursed barriers would hold. That’s why I gave them blood sacrifice.”
“Why you were so angry when I looked out the window,” you whispered.
He was undressing you now, each piece of silk and lace removed carefully, then your hair gathered up on the top of your head. His metal fingers scraped lightly over the piercings on the back of your neck and you shivered.
“There were three of the piercing jewelry when you first showed them to me,” you ventured. “When will you put the third one in my skin?”
His hands pinning up your hair stalled. Turning you around, John bent down closer to look you in the eye. “That, my sweet girl, depends on you.”
“What- you’re giving me a choice?”
This time, his smile was his old, ironic one. “You remember your mother telling you about your birth? How a mother and father must be in accord?”
“Yes.”
John helped you into the tub. “If that useless bastard hadn’t taken you and stomped over my plans, crushing them to rubble, I believe I would have persuaded you to choose the third piercing yourself, signifying your assent.” His jaw tightened and for a moment, you remembered he was indeed a monster. One of the creatures that destroyed so much of your world.
“But,” he continued, a bit sourly, “I believe I was wrong. You had to understand the choice you were making.” A soft sponge spread sweet-scented foam over your back. He lifted your arm, the soap smoothing along it.
Laughing bitterly, you shook your head. “What choice do I have? I don’t want this poor creature to tear out of me. I don’t want to die. I don’t want it to be one of the lost outside those walls.”
Kneeling next to you, he cupped your face. “It must be your choice. But to make it, you have to know…” his throat tightened convulsively, “you have to know you have a choice. Most Night Brethren wouldn’t care if their spawn killed the host.” He lifted your chin, one thumb stroking your cheekbone. “But if you would try to agree to an accord just to stay alive, I don’t believe it would work. If you wish, I can…” John stood, walking back and forth with his hands on his hips, pacing the luxurious bathroom. “I can take this life from you. It’s a difficult incantation but I know it. I can do it.”
