Jim moved in front of Sparrow. “Bet you’re strong now, Birdman.” Jim poked his finger into Sparrow’s chest. “That was lovely.” He glanced down. “Perhaps you should go take care of that.” His eyebrow rose, the one that wasn’t burned and scarred. “Or I could bring in one of the Bloodwhores to relieve you of your angst. They’ll do anything you want. The empty promises we’ve made them ensure it.”
Sparrow said nothing, wanting to simply remove Jim’s head from his neck and force the man to shut up. He could do it. Sparrow had the strength now, but that invisible collar tightened around his neck as though Jim could read his thoughts; it was holding him back.
“Now that you’re strong, get back to work.” Jim reached out and swatted at the bat wings on Sparrow’s back. “Let’s see how heavy a load you can carry now that those stupid fairy wings are gone.”
. . .
Meg
You know you’re in trouble when Lucifer and your mother are standing in the room waiting for you to wake up.
“No feeding in the Hellion’s lair!” Lucifer roars.
I think my heart stops beating. No one moves or breathes for long seconds.
Clea looks down at me with a frown.
“House rules,” Lucifer continues. “They are already tempted enough by the smell of you lingering throughout the caves.”
The king of Hell disappears in a puff of black smoke.
“I will bring him every day, twice at the most. This cannot happen again.” Clea touches my hand before standing and floating out of the room.
I feel my face flame red. There’s nothing like being reprimanded as an adult. That was worse than any punishment John Lewis handed down to me as a kid, and they didn’t even hit me.
Noah disappears in a flash and returns with two steaming microwaveable pizzas and a six-pack of soda. He sets them down on the bed.
“Eat,” he demands, before crossing the room and pulling a chair closer to my bedside.
I hesitate. I’ve never been this hungry before.
“You want more?” Noah’s brows rise in question “Want me to get you a nice refreshing tallboy of blood?”
“Shut up,” I sneer, before biting into a slice of pizza.
. . .
There’s a knock on my door. Noah sets his cards down on the bed. We’ve been playing rummy to kill time. He wouldn’t let me get up except to shower and use the bathroom—said I needed to conserve my energy.
“Come in,” I shout, setting down my cards and giving Noah a wary look. The memories from yesterday are still fresh.
Clea enters; Sparrow follows. He looks like a puppy that’s been kicked.
Poor bastard.
I move off the bed and stand. Sparrow refuses to look at me.
“It’s time,” Clea says. She beckons Noah. “Come. Leave them.”
They leave us standing in the room together. He looks agitated.
Don’t let me forget, Meg. Don’t let me forget you. My thumb rolls over the ring band on my finger.
“Sparrow?” I ask.
He looks away and licks his lips.
“Remember me yet?” I ask.
The strange wings on his back twitch. I miss his feathers. These look wrong on him.
“Stop staring at my wings,” Sparrow finally says, his voice deep and rhythmic. “It’s rude. I feel like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”
“Maybe I am.”
His eyes lock with mine. He’s still across the room.
I sigh and reach for my blade. After cutting my skin, I stand there with my arm stretched out, waiting.
The blood pools and starts to slide.
Sparrow’s eyes never leave mine.
A bead of blood forms into a large drop and stretches toward the floor, the gravity of Hell beckoning it to fall away from my body. Just as it separates from my arm and hits air, Sparrow moves. He slides on his knees, catching the drop of blood in his mouth, then grabs my arm and pulls it to his mouth, latching on and sucking.
Heat floods me. Christ, seeing him on his knees like that does something to me. Sparrow’s hot tongue slides over my skin; his teeth pinch. I draw in a breath. He sucks like a baby to breast, his eyes closed and jaw moving.
This time he doesn’t drain me dry. He moves his mouth away, his tongue sweeping over the wound, sealing it instantly.
Sparrow stands, towering over me. He turns to leave.
Don’t let me forget you, Meg.
“Wait!” I run to the closet and open the drawer where I’ve been stashing the feathers I’ve collected. I select a small black one and run back to Sparrow.
“Here.” I hold the feather out to him.
Sparrow’s fingers grip the end of the feather. He looks confused, then pissed. He drops the feather on the floor and walks away.
Son of a bitch.
Noah’s standing outside my room as Sparrow walks through the door. He glares at Sparrow before entering, carrying a box of donuts and a carton of milk.
“Manservant at your beck and call.” Noah kicks the door closed behind him. His eyes roam over me. “See you’re still standing. Birdman didn’t suck you dry. Good thing your mother intervened.”
I bend to pick up the feather and walk back to the closet, replacing it in the drawer.
“Found these donuts in the back of a convenience store. Thought they’d be the first to go. Powdered sugar’s probably clumpy.” He raises the jug of milk. “Have no idea how this isn’t expired.” He opens the cap and sniffs, then jiggles the jug. “Probably safe to drink.” He crosses the room and sets everything down on the table.
I sit in a chair, take one of the donuts out of the box, and shove the entire thing in my mouth. My eyes burn. I choke a little on the powdered sugar.
“I don’t do the Heimlich,” Noah warns. “You choke on that shit, you’re going to have to save yourself.”
I flick the cap off the milk, letting it bounce to the floor before drinking straight out of the jug. It’s hard to feel thankful for much right now, but I’m thankful when I don’t get a mouthful of sour chunks of curd.
. . .
Sparrow
Turns out Sparrow could carry a heavy load of rock immediately after feeding like he did. But as the day went on, the weight of the rock became nearly unliftable. With each stone he transported, the thrusting of his wings moved him less and less through the thick atmosphere of Hell.
As time passed, launching from the ground turned difficult, followed by the distance of flight, and when he landed, he stumbled and fell to one knee. Lurching and nearly breaking one of the stones, Jim swore and finally sent the other Hellions to help.
By the time they made it back to the burning caves, Clea was waiting there, and she was pissed. “Sparrow.” Her tone was clipped and dark. “Come with me now.”
Jim waved him away with an annoyed gesture.
As Sparrow walked, the invisible collar around his throat grew tighter and tighter. It was nothing compared to the ache in his gut.
Sparrow walked away from his fellow warriors and followed Clea.
When they were a good distance away, headed toward the entrance to the burning caves, Clea said, “I thought better of you than to do that to her.” Her gaze was a splinter wedged deep in his skin; he’d never get over that glare. “You are not evil incarnate like the others. You should be remembering.” Clea stopped him and touched his shoulders, which towered above her. She looked deep into his eyes. “What did that little prick do to you?”
Sparrow stood silent. He didn’t know—only had a feeling that something was warring within his soul, threatening to tear him apart.
Clea stood a moment longer. “Perhaps it’s the stronghold of the curse. We’ll have to give it time.” She started walking again. “Come.”
Sparrow followed her to the bedroom door he knew to be hers. Clea knocked, then pushed the door open.
She was there, standing in the middle of the room wearing the same thing as the day before. She looked pale, ner
vous, scared of him even, and he felt like shit because of it.
Clea was gone; the door shut. She continued to watch him before slicing her wrist and tempting him. Sparrow didn’t waste a drop of her blood, and he found that it was much easier to stop himself after having fed the previous day.
After Sparrow pulled away from her and stood, she handed him a small dark feather. A memory assaulted him: he was standing somewhere very bright, gripping a large black feather in his hand and visions were flashing behind his eyes . . . War. Battles without end. Confusion. Darkness and death. Light and dark. A white-hot explosion between ethereal realms. Pain and loss. Abandoned children. Isolation. A vast plane of emptiness filled with sand and the burning heat of the sun where he was left alone with nothing but his frequent state of madness.
Sparrow dropped the feather and stormed out of the room.
. . .
Meg
“What time’s dinner?” Noah throws a handful of seed over the balcony.
“Hey. You’re going to have to go out and get more of that,” I threaten. “Especially since you still haven’t gotten me that Jeep so we can go driving.” I shift in my chair and prop my feet up on the balcony railing.
“Answer the question?”
Manservant is getting bossy.
“I don’t know.” I tap my toes on the railing and pull my shorts up, revealing more thigh, soaking up the sun, and hoping for a tan.
“You’re going to burn his dinner,” Noah warns.
I swat at him.
“I can hear your skin crisping up already.” Noah laughs and throws another handful of seed.
“I’m bored.” I stretch my legs.
Noah leans back in his chair and clasps his hands behind his head. “Don’t know about that. You’re pretty set here. Better than we ever had it as kids. Even if that crazy dude is sucking your blood on a nightly basis.”
I point at Noah. “You trusted him at one point. I remember that much. When I found you, before you turned into a walking sack of flesh, you told me you trusted him more than those other chuckleheads you were holed up with. Said he saved your ass on more than one occasion.”
Noah rubs his chin in thought. “Maybe.”
“You said it. He saved my life, too.”
“And then?”
And then everything continued to get further and further fucked up. I roll the ring band with my thumb.
“He has to do this. We have no choice.”
“You’ll forgive him after?” Noah squints at me.
“Yeah.” Or at least I hope so. Because other people who treated me so shittily, I didn’t hesitate one second before cutting them out of my life.
“Sound pretty sure about that.”
“Before the change, he told me to remember him and remember that he loved me more than anything.” I think hard—pull up the memory of Sparrow in that Canadian tuxedo standing in the hallway of the Hilton outside our hotel-room door.
“That’s some deep shit.”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “This could be one giant mistake. I forgot who I was for a while.” I look away from Noah and stare at the dark forest.
“Who are you?” Noah is watching me closely.
“I’m having a hard time remembering. The empty promises of Heaven really did a number on me.”
Long moments pass before Noah speaks again. “You think things between us could have been different?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. We got in too much trouble.”
He reaches out and touches my arm. “I’m sorry I never stood up to that bastard when we were kids.”
“It’s the past. Can’t change it.” I stand and stretch, and consider lying out on the balcony in my underwear to get a tan. “Besides, we’re here now.”
“Yeah.” He throws another handful of seed; the dead moan and groan from below.
“Those walking meat sacks are going to eat the songbirds, and then all my entertainment will be gone.”
Noah wipes his hands on his pants before folding them over his stomach.
“It never gets this bright here. I think I’m going to sunbathe.” I strip off my shirt and lay it down on the stone floor in the sun. I settle on my stomach and rest the side of my face on my shirt.
Noah clears his throat.
“What?”
“Don’t fry up like an egg and get all wrinkly. Sparrow Man won’t be able to bite through your leathery skin.”
I reach out to swat Noah, but he disappears.
Laying my head down again, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep with the heat of the sun on my back.
I dream of Nightingale, and she’s pissed. “Why didn’t you take me with you?” She’s standing in front of me, screaming. Her face twists, angry and red. “Your monster’s coming!”
My eyes flash open.
It’s dark now. I shiver in the shade that coats the balcony. I get up on my knees, grab my shirt, and stand.
A large shadow moves in my room.
“Hello?” I ask.
The bedroom door slams.
I push the curtain aside and walk into my room.
Maybe it was Noah snooping around. I check things over: look in the bathroom, then the closet. I open the drawer with the feathers. There’s more now, hundreds. I’ve been collecting handfuls of them every day. I shouldn’t be doing it—worse, I shouldn’t be doing it in secret after Noah leaves for the night.
Realizing that Sparrow should be here soon, I take a red cardinal feather out of the drawer and tuck it in my pocket. As I leave the closet, walking in a circle, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. Something seems off.
I reach for my blade on a nearby table.
There’s a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I shout.
Clea enters; Sparrow trails in behind her. She notices the weapon in my hand, and her brow wrinkles. “What’s wrong?”
I set the blade down. “I think someone was in here while I was sleeping.”
Sparrow suddenly seems interested in the place. He walks through the room, inspecting and sniffing like a guard dog.
“They have been forbidden from touching you.” Clea’s cold hand settles on my arm.
“I know. Just . . . I saw a shadow.”
“Was it Jim?” Clea asks.
Sparrow’s head whips in our direction.
“I don’t think so. The shadow was too big.”
Clea bites her lip. “All will be well. I must go.” She leaves.
Sparrow turns to face me as the door closes.
I walk toward him, holding out the cardinal feather.
Sparrow takes it, holds it in his hand—his face impassive.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Searching for a fuck to give.” His eyes narrow on me.
The Sparrow I know doesn’t say shit like that. I do. Maybe this is the darkness taking hold, tainting his soul like everyone tells me it’s supposed to.
I never said anything asshole-ish like that to him when we tramped all over Hell searching for his beloved feathers. My hands curl into fists.
“You’re a jerk,” I reply.
Sparrow takes an intimidating step toward me. I stand taller and consider running for my blade on the table. I’ve faced worse than a Hellion Sparrow. I’ve faced off against seven of them and lived to tell the tale. He doesn’t scare me. Well, maybe he does. A little bit.
Sparrow takes my arm, pulling it away from my body toward his mouth. The movement is much gentler than his words just were. He licks the pale, vein-laced skin of my wrist before closing his eyes and sinking his teeth in.
Fire burns in my core even though I’m still a little heartbroken after what he just said. The mixture of emotions is confusing. Tears well up behind my eyes. I swallow them down. Girls like me don’t cry; we get a beer and drown our sorrows.
I look down and away.
Sparrow stops, and I turn to face him again.
“Dinner was good.” He looks me
up and down, licking his lips.
“Get the hell out of my room.” I growl, pointing at the door.
Sparrow turns on his heel and marches out of the room
Noah’s waiting in the hall. “Take it that went well.” He glares down the hall at Sparrow.
“Don’t ask.”
I start looking for the cardinal feather, but I can’t find it on the floor. I stand up straight when I realize that Sparrow must’ve taken it with him.
“You don’t know how far I had to go to find this.” Noah holds up a steaming calzone on a plate and two bottles of beer. “Was in the back of a freezer in some dude’s camper. Had to light his stove with a match to cook the sucker. And these.” He holds up the beer. “Had to cut a bitch for ’em.”
I take one of the beers, pop the top, and drink the entire thing without stopping.
“That bad, huh?”
I motion for him to pass me the next one.
. . .
Sparrow
The thought of Jim in her room angered Sparrow beyond belief. He was quick to inspect each and every corner of her bedroom. Someone was definitely just here; he could smell it, sweet and pure like the scent that lingered on her. It wasn’t Jim, but it was someone. He couldn’t control the anger, knowing it was the darkness within him taking hold, twisting him away from the man he used to be.
Clea left, closing the door behind her, trapping the two of them alone.
She walked toward him with something red in her hand. She held it out. A red feather. Sparrow gripped it between his fingers, unsure of what she wanted him to do with a feather. He remembered the visions from the last one. This one didn’t assault him as the other one had. Instead, on the peripheries of his mind, he could see her, smiling on the shores of a lake, at him, gripping fistfuls of feathers in his hands and shoving them in a backpack. It didn’t make sense, so he pushed it away and focused on the young woman in front of him.
She was afraid.
Sparrow took a step toward her, towering over her as his eyes appreciated both what she wore and the ink that marked her skin. He wanted to touch the tattoos: the colorful one on her chest and the black quill across her slender collarbone.
Sparrow thought that there were more; there had to be more hidden on her body in places he couldn’t see because of her clothing. He had half a mind to strip her bare and look his fill. But Sparrow didn’t have the time; he was too hungry from his day of labor with the Hellions.
Nightingale Girl Page 11
