Butcherbird

by Cassie Hart

  ‘I remembered, after, that he’d been getting angrier and angrier. I remembered thumping noises and shouting, all from him. In the night, but then even after he got in from the farm. He was acting strangely. I think I blocked it all out because I didn’t want to know. I thought …. It was easier to think that somehow it was all my fault.’ She pressed her lips together. There was a slight tremble to them as if she might cry, but she held it together.

  ‘But it wasn’t,’ he said, encouraging her to keep going, even though he felt like an asshole asking her to repeat all of this, to tell him her pain.

  She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think it was.’ She sighed. ‘Do you have any idea how it feels to have lived your whole life shackled with guilt? With the surety that you’re just a rotten person? That everyone died but me, and yet I didn’t deserve to live.’

  Will looked at her then, really looked at her. She might be almost thirty, but right now she seemed so young, so unsure of herself. And he didn’t know what to say to make it better.

  ‘Everyone deserves a chance at life, Jena. Everyone. And it wasn’t your fault. You know that now.’

  ‘And I also know that my family are a pack of killers.’ She put her mug down and pushed it away, picking up the glass of water he’d left for her, and the pills.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘But I do know that what happened in the barn today wasn’t just a memory.’ He leaned onto his elbows, and everything felt heavy as he recalled the smoke and the birds.

  ‘Spit it out, Will,’ Jena said. ‘I’m so tired, and I already have too much in my brain. And for the record, I’m still drunk and I don’t know what I’m going to remember in the morning.’

  ‘You look pretty sober,’ he commented.

  ‘And you look like you’re stalling.’ She arched an eyebrow, a small smile slipping out. ‘Come on, we’ve hung out in a grave together now, we’re buddies.’

  And that was it.

  He did feel like they were becoming friends, and he desperately wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on, for both of them. He could so easily tell her the whole truth right now – about what he knew, about why he was really here – but he didn’t want to jeopardise this accord they’d reached. As long as she didn’t ask what he was doing in the barn in the first place, he could get through this without lying.

  ‘When we were in the barn, a few different things happened. I heard you come in, but I didn’t want to disturb you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and then you dropped to your knees. You were making this sound … I can’t describe it, but it was creepy. And then ….’ He swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘There was smoke, Jena. I don’t know how, but I could see it. It was filling the room. I tried to shake you, tried to get you to come back, but I couldn’t.’ Will shook his head. ‘And then the birds started smashing against the clear-lite. They were hitting it so hard that it shattered and they came in and they swarmed us. And then you came back.’

  ‘Those birds ….’ She grimaced. ‘Do you think Rose was right about them? About them helping me, that is. They scare the shit out of me, but maybe ….’

  ‘I don’t know for sure, but I do know that it was only after they came that whatever the hell was going on stopped.’ He shuddered as he remembered. Somehow it seemed worse after the fact than at the time, like he could see more, feel more. Now that the shock had worn off.

  Jena saw his shudder and grinned. ‘Glad I’m not the only one getting the heebie-jeebies from this place now.’

  ‘You’re not mad that I didn’t bring it up sooner?’ Will asked. He watched her face as she formulated a response, but when she looked him in the eyes, he could tell she wasn’t angry.

  ‘If I wasn’t drunk, if I hadn’t just dug my grandfather’s skull out of the backyard, if I hadn’t gotten to know you a little? I might be. But I did tell you I didn’t want to talk and you were respecting that. Right now, it’s just nice to know that someone believes me, that I’m not imagining things. Cade …. When he comes back – if he comes back – I don’t think I can face explaining this to him. I just don’t think he’ll get it.’

  ‘I won’t say anything, not till you’re ready to, but – what are you going to do with the skull?’

  Jena grabbed it, twisting it until they were face to face, she and her grandfather. ‘I don’t know yet. But I promise I won’t put it on the breakfast table tomorrow morning.’ She looked up at him, a tinge of fear in her eyes, but also determination. ‘You can’t tell her this. You can’t tell her anything. She’s kept it all from me for a reason. I need to know that reason but I have a feeling she’s not going to tell me. And I know she won’t if I don’t play this right.’

  ‘We’ll work this out,’ Will said, more determined than ever. ‘Even if we don’t like the answers, we’re going to find out what’s going on.’

  She nodded, still looking at the skull. ‘Hey, get me some paper and a pen, will you? I don’t want to forget what we talked about.’

  ‘Sure.’ He grabbed the notepad from the kitchen and passed it to her, along with a pen. ‘What are you going to write?’

  ‘Found Ernest’s skull in the old rose garden. Am sure Rose killed him. Suspect Rose burned down the barn. Dad killed everyone. Will is a jerk.’

  He felt his insides shrink, but then she looked up at him and laughed.

  ‘No, I’ll write. You can trust Will.’ She finished writing and slid it across to him to check.

  She trusted him. Or at least, Jena after a few drinks trusted him. And if he was lucky, she’d believe her own handwriting in the morning.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You get to make the first move tomorrow.’

  She chewed on her lip. ‘You believe me, right?’

  ‘I do.’ And he did. That wasn’t a lie.

  She’d been through a lot, she was still a wreck nearly two decades on, but he thought she might be onto something. It might be up to him to find out why Rose had done those things, how it had all come to be, but if he could find a way, he was going to help Jena figure out what happened all those years ago – hell, she’d just fuelled his desire to find the answers even more.

  But also, he wanted to find out about what was happening now. Because he was starting to think that the strangeness wasn’t over yet. The hair on the back of his neck pricked up, and not for the first time since he moved in, he felt like something was watching him.

  Will looked up at the large clock on the wall, his movements exaggerated so Jena would catch it, and then back to Jena. ‘We should get some sleep. I still need a shower, and Rose sometimes wakes really early.’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right.’ Jena ripped the note she’d written off the pad and picked up the skull, tucking it under her arm. ‘I’ll clean up some of the mess in the morning but I can’t right now. Don’t you, either. It’s not all yours.’

  It was such a change from her attitude when she’d first arrived, he just nodded and swept his hand towards the door, offering for her to go first. They trod up the stairs side by side, not bothering to avoid the creaky spots, and turned to face each other at their opposite doors.

  ‘Thanks for talking,’ Jena said.

  ‘Thanks for telling me stuff. I hope you can sleep.’

  ‘Hey, I’m still drunk, remember?’ she said with a wry smile. ‘You’re the one that’s going to have trouble.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JENA

  Jena squinted at the light pouring onto her bed. Her mouth was tacky and dry from the alcohol she’d consumed the night before, and she knew as soon as she lifted her head off the pillow the headache was going to come crashing in on her. She should have at least shut the curtains before she passed out. Damn you, drunk Jena.

  She rolled over, away from the light, and came face to face with a skull.

  Oh.

  Oh. That.

  She covered her hand with her mouth, gripping her face to prevent herself from speaking out loud. She didn’t want to say anythi
ng, didn’t want to think anything, especially about the flashes of last night that were coming back to her now. The rain. The oak tree. The hole she’d spent how long digging? And this. Her grandfather.

  And Will. Right? He’d found her there, taken her inside. They’d talked …. Hang on, she’d written a note. She remembered that.

  Found Ernest’s skull in the old rose garden. Am sure Rose killed him. Suspect Rose burned down the barn. Dad killed everyone. You can trust Will.

  Right. Okay. Well, at least drunk Jena had thought to write a note.

  All that aside, it didn’t really change the fact that she wasn’t sure what would happen next. She could confront Rose with what she thought was the truth. Or, she could try and find out more by searching through the house again, looking for another clue.

  That decision could wait until she’d had coffee and had seen if she could stomach some food.

  Jena rolled to the edge of the bed, ignoring the way it made her stomach burn and roil. Oh, this is going to be a long day. And she had no one to blame but herself.

  Or Rose. She could totally blame Rose. Because Rose was the one keeping secrets locked up tight, and Rose had been the one who burned her family – whether they were dead or alive at the time almost wasn’t relevant. That, and her subsequent actions, had denied Jena the right to any sense of peace, had instilled in her such a sense of shame that she’d never been able to hold onto something good for long.

  Not even Cade. And it wasn’t even all that long. But he was good; it was she who was broken. She who took things the wrong way and made a hash of it all. She’d blown it yesterday. Jumped to the wrong conclusions.

  She reached around on the bedside table for her phone, but it wasn’t there. Huh.

  Oh, the rain. She vaguely remembered Will had taken it to … do something with, try and dry it out? On the off chance it was still working, the battery was probably flat, so either way she couldn’t check for a message from Cade. Jena flopped back onto the pillow, the movement jolting her head, shooting pain through it. Her arms ached, and her legs – apparently digging a muddy fucking hole was hard work or something.

  She couldn’t lie there feeling sorry for herself, though. She had a skull, and options, and she had to face the day, face the truth.

  It was so weird to think that just a few days ago she’d wanted it so badly, had ached to know what had really happened, and now that she’d uncovered some of it … she kind of wished she didn’t know. She couldn’t give up now, though, or she’d never forgive herself, and with Rose heading towards the grave there was no time to waste. Even if the old woman wouldn’t tell it to her straight, Jena could try and read her expression, learn her body language, and work from there – she just had to avoid giving her a heart attack in the meantime.

  Jena forced herself out of bed, glad she’d dressed in clean clothes last night. She scraped her hair back from her face and tied it up.

  It was time to face the day.

  ***

  Coffee made everything a little better, though she couldn’t face more than a piece of dry toast and some painkillers. She’d walked down to Rose’s room a few times, pausing at the closed door before heading to the kitchen, where she riffled through the cupboards until Will came in.

  ‘Hey, you look like crap,’ she said. He had bags under his eyes, darker than they usually were, and he hadn’t even brushed his mess of hair yet. He rubbed his eyes the same way her kid brother used to. If she believed in ghosts, she might think Joel was infecting Will through his room, but that was just ridiculous. ‘Sit down and I’ll make you coffee. I can’t promise any of the wizardry you delivered last night, but it’ll be hot and strong and that’s more important, right?’

  ‘Mmhmm,’ Will muttered, taking a seat at the counter. He heaved a sigh, followed by a yawn, and rolled his shoulders. ‘Rose had me up a couple of times last night. I didn’t get much sleep.’

  ‘That sucks. Is she okay?’ Jena raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Yeah, just aches and trouble getting comfortable. Needed to pee. Old people stuff.’ He shrugged it off.

  She poured the coffee and slid him the cup across the counter. He picked it up and drank immediately, not stopping until it was half gone.

  ‘That is seriously bad coffee,’ he said, before downing the rest. ‘Give me a minute and I’ll make another.’ He scratched behind his ear, and then finally actually looked at her. ‘Did you sleep?’ he asked. ‘How’s the head?’ He tapped his.

  ‘I’ve had worse mornings, and better.’ She bit her lip, and the bullet. ‘About last night.’

  ‘You found the note?’ His lips quirked into a smile. ‘And you’re still talking to me. No, wait, is that why you made me such an awful coffee?’

  She laughed. ‘No, I just don’t care much how it’s made. I needed it fast.’ She sipped her own, actually tasting it this time, then tipped it down the sink and put the kettle on to boil. ‘I did find the note. That was clever, though it should maybe have been a little longer.’

  ‘I’d like to take credit, but that was all you. I got the feeling it wasn’t the first time you might have had to do that. No judgement, it just would never have crossed my mind. You’re smarter drunk than most people are sober.’

  ‘Well, thanks,’ she said, pressing her lips together. She didn’t know how to have this conversation, didn’t fully remember what they’d talked about last night. So, she skirted the topic instead. Avoidance wasn’t her normal way, but she wasn’t quite ready. ‘Oh, hey, did you say you were going to try and fix my phone?’

  Instead of answering he got up and headed towards the pantry, scooping out a large bowl and placing it in front of her. ‘In there somewhere. I heard rice can help, but I’ve never actually tried it before.’

  Jena screwed up her face, anxious about the result. She plucked the phone out and scraped stray pieces of rice back into the bowl. ‘I’m going to go and throw it on the charger, see if it still works. You eat, and I’ll meet you back here in about fifteen?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah sure,’ Will said. He chewed the inside of his cheek, keeping his eyes on her. ‘You’re okay, right? I can’t imagine how I’d deal with all of this if I was in your shoes.’

  Jena shrugged, unsure how to handle his concern. ‘This is just my life, one disaster after another. I spend a lot of time thinking that if I’d just died along with them, everything would have been easier. But I’m still here. Still kicking.’ She headed for the door, not wanting any more of his empathy; the weight of it was almost too much.

  And if she stopped to think about how she felt for too long, she might never move again.

  She headed upstairs and put the phone on charge before wandering over to the window. She could see the barn from here. Her head spun, as if she was losing balance, and her ears rang with magpie caws at the thought of going back in there. At the thought of what Rose might have done.

  Jena didn’t know what to think about her grandmother any more. On the one hand she had lots of good memories from before the barn incident, but nothing since then. Rose had all but shut her out, kept her away from the farm, made her leave most of her possessions behind and make a fresh start with Aunt Pat. And now she was sure that Rose was capable of murder – that her own father was capable of murder – she had to wonder what she was getting into.

  Would Jena go that way too?

  She’d inherited her father’s dark hair and her mother’s brown eyes, the long, lean lines of her paternal grandmother. Curiosity seemed to run deep in their family too; in all her siblings, anyway.

  She had to wonder, was this brand of crazy their real family legacy? And if so, was she going to be able to avoid it? She’d always thought she was screwed up enough after what happened, and now to find that perhaps she was genetically inclined towards darkness ….

  Well, she didn’t know what to think, but it made it hard to breathe, like when the feathers had filled her mouth in the barn.

  Maybe Rose had a good reason. Maybe there wa
s an explanation that would wash away all her conflicted feelings – after all, if her father had killed the rest of her family, then Rose was doing the world a favour by locking him in the barn and letting him burn.

  Jena clutched her stomach. It felt like a snake had coiled there, wrapping around her organs. She breathed in and out, long and slow, trying to stop the sensation of her throat closing over, trying to bring herself back to the now.

  She wanted the truth; the cold hard facts. She needed to know what really happened, not the stories she’d heard about faulty wiring, or the fairy tales her family had made up about some Dark Man on the farm. Because this was the real world, not fantasy.

  She was going to get the truth.

  With a sigh she turned away from the barn and sat on the bed, pushing the on button for her phone. Nothing. She held it down longer, but still nothing. Only then did a sob tear free because despite all the other things, she wished she could be near Cade, take comfort in the warmth of his body. But what if he never came back? What if it was over?

  No, she couldn’t think about that right now, either. She put her phone down and hoped that maybe later it would work, then she headed downstairs to meet Will.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  WILL

  Will opened the front door, letting the sun shine through the entrance. Sometime in the night the rain had cleared, leaving the world washed clean – if only it could have done the same to his brain. It felt like he was walking through sludge, and he wasn’t sure when that would go away. Once again, he was struck by how it was one thing to hold a theory, and another to have it proven true in some way. The world he walked into today was different from the one he’d woken up in yesterday.

  Jena stomped down the stairs looking sullen.

  ‘Phone not working?’ he asked. She shook her head and walked past him, back towards the kitchen. He closed the door and followed her, knowing that they should talk, feeling that itch under his skin to try and make her understand – while she was sober – that there was more going on here than was visible.