“Tell them…” A fury.
“Tell them…” to volume increasing, with every iteration, as each crow joined.
“Tell them…”
“FUCK YOU!” Brett bellowed, lashing out with one fist, intending to knock the closest crows off the platform. His arm went through them and, unprepared, he almost lost his own precarious seat.
The chorus of “tell them” abruptly stopped. The crows began laughing.
And out of that dark space below him, from somewhere deep below, he heard a voice rise up.
“You will give their names,” the voice whispered. “If you do not, you will pay the price. Every time you sleep, you will pay the price. And they will be waiting.”
Brett scoffed, trying to appear braver than he felt. “What price? This is bullshit.”
A silence, but not empty. A heavy, waiting silence.
Invisible claws suddenly slashed his face, parting skin and flaying muscle. A second last rendered his left eye useless, had his lower lip hanging by a thread.
He was well alive and screaming as the crows began to feast.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Things have improved by leaps and bounds with Ash. It seems as though we lanced the internal wound she had been carrying around, at least from Brett. I’m thinking of Betsy’s advice as we lounge in the apartment. We arranged the day off together. Casie sits on the couch, one of my shirts baggy on her small frame, sipping her coffee, feet on my lap. Calida is sunning herself on the back of the couch, tail swinging like a metronome.
I sip my own coffee, fingers idly trailing up and down her smooth calf. I can tell when my witchling has something on her mind. I’ll just wait her out, and bide my time.
She breaks the silence first, as I’d planned, twisting a loose curl between her fingers. “You know, sometimes I feel like you’re… somewhere else. Like you’re here with me, but your mind’s walking around someplace I can’t see.”
I don’t deflect, considering her words. “Because part of me is, I suppose. Goira isn’t easy to leave behind.”
She stills at my mention of home, her eyes finding mine. “Goira.” She says the word like it’s strange and familiar all at once.
I shrug casually, but my eyes never leave hers. “It’s home.” I say simply.
“Are you leaving?”
“No. No, I’m not leaving. I suppose you can say I’m homesick.”
“Oh,” she says, her voice sounding small. She tries to shake it off, saying “Will you tell me more about it? I mean… for my book?”
I bite back a smile. “Of course. What do you want to know?”
She seems to consider my offer. We’ve already had conversations about Goira, but this time I intend to be a little more daring about what I tell her. “Magick,” she finally says. “Tell me about it. I’ve seen it. Experienced some of it.” I grin as a flush heats her cheeks. Yes, we certainly did. “How does it work?”
“Powers vary, person to person. Sometimes, a specific power will run in the family, although that isn’t always the case. As far as what determines it? That’s for smarterminds than mine to say. My mother always said it’s determined by the needs of Goira, in that time and the time to come.” I roll my shoulders, displacing the weight of that statement.
She seems to ponder this. “What, exactly, are your powers? I know I’ve seen some of them — you sight shielded Calida. The connection the other night in bed.”
“Well, it varies, like I said — for everyone. Me? I can call on the elements and ask them for help. I can do a bit of mind work. Many have one specific gift. I can call on mine equally, no matter the element. The same with the mind work, if you will.”
She seems to think this over. “But it has limits?”
“Yes, just like everything else. Mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion all tie into it. If I’m physically exhausted, I can ask elements to lend strength. But bodies have limits, power or no.”
“Who’s the strongest of you?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. I could say “You”, and risk watching her disintegrate before my eyes.
