Up With The Crows

by Zoe Parker

  Well, I plan on changing that. If they really don’t want me to call people to come in to help them, I won’t. God, I can’t believe I’m accepting that, but it is what it is, and that’s the end of it. BUT I can, however, give them the simple pleasure of a real fucking toilet and shower. They’ll not sit filthy and hungry around me anymore.

  “Being clean is not a pleasure I’ve had in a very long time,” he says climbing to his feet. Without waiting I go into the bathroom and turn on the single light. It flickers, after a few blinks a light buzz fills the air, and it remains on. The room is tidy, just unused and dusty.

  Hurriedly I clean some of the surfaces he’ll be touching and put a towel on the floor in front of the shower. I turn and almost run into him, watching me from the doorway. Instead of saying anything that my brain is juggling around I shove the towels at him, then squeeze past him, doing everything I can to touch his body as minimally as possible.

  Yes, I’m that weird.

  “He’ll be waiting for you to return to him,” his words freeze me in my tracks, “Don’t keep him waiting, he gets cranky.” With that said to my tense back the water turns on, and I hear him moving the curtain around.

  “I need to help you finish,” I mumble defiantly.

  “I’m not a child, Mel.” It’s an absolute dismissal, and I’ll look like an idiot if I stand there arguing with him about it.

  Sighing, I trudge outside my feet essentially dragging on the floor. The dread in my stomach is telling me the next conversation I have with Vale will change my life irrevocably. Delaying it won’t change it, but damnit, I do what I want. Mostly.

  Well, hell. When did I accept that this shit might possibly be real?

  After a moment, I realize precisely when. While I was helping Min and he looked so happy with something as simple as getting his hair combed, when he fought the automatic flinch from me cleaning the damage to his too thin body, when he looked at me like I was his hero, if only for those few quiet moments in his turbulent life.

  In fact, I realize in my turbulent, lonely life that for the first time in years I haven’t felt lonely all day long—not one single time. There’s so much to do here, so much to change here. So many who need help. Help that, for once, I can give. Even if its something as simple as a good meal and a spot of deodorant. Or hell, toothpaste, which I’ve passed out freely today.

  At least until the people who own this place find out what I’m doing and fire me because I’m entirely sure that will happen. As optimistic as I’d like to be about things, they will fire me. I always get let go, from every single job I’ve ever had. Yet, this is the first one I’ve ever cared about. It’s been six hours, and it feels like a lifetime. This place is full of suffering and pain; no matter how monstrous my insane mind makes some of them appear, I care, and I hurt for them.

  My Mom has always told me I’m too soft sometimes, in this instance she’s probably right.

  Chapter Nine

  The sound of birds stops the noise in my mind.

  Carly Simon

  After I return the carts, in preparation for the next meal, I head towards Vale’s room. I managed to get most of my duties completed, except for the last meal. Smiling a little bit, I whistle as I walk, feeling like I’m on top of the world. Holy hell that was a lot of shit to do, but it felt good to be busy. It felt good to be useful. I’m in such a good mood in fact that I even smile and wave at the guards on the first floor as I breeze past them on my way to Vale’s room.

  As expected I get a few dirty looks and then I’m pointedly ignored.

  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in a truly good mood. Most of my life has gone to shit and remained there for so long that I didn’t even realize how nice this feels. I’ve spent the majority of the last ten years feeling sorry for myself and depressed because nothing ever seemed to work out right. Especially—my thoughts screech to a halt.

  Vale’s sitting on his bed with his head in his hands, well, what’s left of his bed. The mattress is mostly in pieces, and the frame is tossed against the far wall, the metal twisted and bent. His long white hair is stained red, and I can see blood dried on his arms and bare back. The rest of his meager possessions are irreversibly destroyed, among them his few books are gutted with their pages strewn about the floor like corpses from a battle.

  I don’t miss the wet blood all over the place, either.

  “Vale?” I ask in concern pausing a few steps from him. Approaching an injured animal isn’t something you rush into, not unless you want to get bit. Vale is putting off that dangerous aura, and the anger bleeding from him is so cold that goosebumps raise on my skin.

  Cold anger is some scary shit.

  “Have you finished already?” he asks, standing and the shine of his teeth as he grimaces from what I know is pain, brings me completely to his side. Hesitantly, touching his elbow, getting a good look at some of his wounds. With a frown of worry, I dash out into the hallway to get the chair that I saw sitting out there against the wall. Bringing it in, I set it beside of him and steer him gently but determinedly towards it. Without apology, I push him into the seat.

  With a look of exasperation directed at me, he sinks into the seat and sighs as he settles.

  “What happened?”

  “The guards and I had a small disagreement,” he says, breathing shallowly enough I notice. The bruises marring his sides concern me. I bet his ribs are broken.

  “How bad of shape are they in?” Going into the bathroom, I wet a few washcloths in cold water and come back out.

  “They are… unharmed.” The last word is essentially spat out. He’s not happy about this fact.

  “Why?” Honestly, I’m not super happy about it either.

  “They cannot know that I am stronger,” he whispers just loud enough for me to hear him.

  Kneeling, I set to work cleaning him up, completely ignoring his protests. They’re not serious ones anyhow. They beat the shit out of him, hard-core, and he needs the help I can give him.

  The damage to his person pisses me right off.

  “Do you like music?” I ask to distract him and maybe myself from what happened to him and from the pain I’m inflicting trying to clean the wounds I can see on his arms.

  “Mmm. It’s been a few years since I’ve heard any,” he answers in a tight voice, his jaw clenched. He’s in a lot of pain. I can feel it in the way his muscles quiver when I touch him. The reaction is slight, something I’d miss if I weren’t somehow wound up with him.

  “God don’t tell me you only like listening to classical music—while sniffing fancy crystal glasses filled with red wines that are fourteen million years old and made from digested grapes of some weird monkey-troll.” It’s what popped into my head and came directly out my mouth.

  For a solid two seconds, he looks at me with sparkling eyes before throwing his head back and laughing. Even as he squeezes his side with one hand, he keeps chuckling. Well, at least my stupid humor is good for something.

  “I thought vampires had magical healing powers or some shit?” I ask.

  His face sobers, and he shocks me when he leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. Our eyes are inches apart, and I can feel his breath on my lips. He looks… tired and I don’t like this look on him.

  “They can’t see that I’m becoming whole again, I need the energy to maintain that secret, so I can’t use it to heal.”

  “What will make the pain better? Ice?” He’s a vampire, Mel, why the hell would ice help?

  “Only what you have already gifted me with can fix this problem, beautiful. A lot of it.”

  “How much is a lot?” I whisper.

  He chuckles and says, “Do you know what you ask?” I do, yes. I’m asking him if my blood will help him because I’m falling for this fantasy world.

  “Take what you need to chase the pain away.”

  The whites of his eyes overtake the pupils, and I sense the change within him, around him. The hair on my arms is standing
straight up from it.

  “Do not run,” he warns before grabbing my face with both hands.

  Cool lips cover mine, the pressure incredibly gentle, at first. His lips remain still and let me adjust to their presence. Our eyes are open, locked into a place of no going back. The sharp sting from one of his teeth as it lightly grazes my bottom lip is the only warning I get before I feel a lot more of them sink into my lip.

  It hurts, a lot, a moan of pain slips through our joined mouths. My first instinct is to yank away from him then to run as fast and as far as I can from this place and never come back. Thankfully, that panicky feeling fades as quickly as it happens. The sharp pain becomes a dull throb as he loosens his teeth’s grip on me. A warm, soft tongue swirls around those sharp teeth that are now only shallowly sunk into my skin and leaves a line of heat in its path as it dips into my mouth. On instinct, my tongue meets his. They tangle together stroking each other softly and retreating only to return leaving the taste of copper and Vale in its place. The hold on my face softens as he sucks my lip into his mouth. The pull is completely and utterly the most erotic experience of my life.

  Fingers root their way into my hair, pulling me even closer to the mouth that is no longer biting and is now simply devouring mine. And the entire time his eyes hold mine. He releases me, slowly, a bit of flesh at a time, I watch the wounds on his face pull his blood back into his body and seal closed. I watch the thirty-something looking face, become even more youthful, more ethereal. The long hair that’s grazing my arms grows more lustrous and thicker.

  The mother fucker is the poster boy for Loreal at this point. However, pretty or not, his face can never be mistaken for anything but male—defined, strong jaw, strong roman nose, and winged eyebrows—that give his eyes an even more inhuman look to them. Hell, he also has a widow’s peak, a perfect one that makes me want to run a fingertip over the small point of it.

  “Well, that was different,” I say and laugh nervously, sitting back on my heels. I’m not even sure how I got on my knees. “Don’t you need more than that?” That’s about as coherent as I can talk right now because I can honestly say I know what it’s like to be kissed completely senseless.

  “To be at full strength, yes. You flatter me with your gift, but I’m afraid that you do not possess enough blood in your little body to sate my hunger… at least, that hunger.” He smiles, and one sharp tooth winks at me.

  Did Vale just flirt with me? His smile widens, and the predatory look he’s currently giving me is all male. Horny male. Well, shit.

  “You are rather accepting about our monstrous…appetites,” he comments, running a finger down my cheek with affection. I shiver, and he smiles again—goddamn hormones and pretty vampires.

  “Lions eat baby gazelles because they need meat not because they’re evil monsters. I reckon that’s no different than you needing blood to survive. Which I might add is cleaner than Tavin’s eating habits. He gets the schmutz all over his face.” I wave my hand in front of my face to emphasize.

  I’m also fully aware I’m nervous chattering.

  “What do you think of Tavin?” he asks mildly. Sensing a trap, I shrug. The look on his face isn’t jealousy; it’s too intense for that. If anything, I’d say it’s speculative with a dash of amusement.

  “You two are brothers,” I blurt out. This time he shrugs completely avoiding my blatant hint for more information. In my opinion, they’re more than likely identical twins because standing side by side most people would have a hard time telling them apart. Same sharp white eyes, same white hair, same widow’s peak. Even their teeth are identical.

  The difference that I can see is, the way they hold themselves. I’ll pay more attention in the future to see if I can spot anymore differences, it’ll be like a puzzle. I like puzzles. For now, I’ll let it drop. I don’t think I know the right questions to ask yet, asking the wrong ones is a waste of time for both of us.

  Frowning, I ask the next question that pops into my head, “Does it always have to be people?” Vale nods. “Okay, how about just bad people? I can handle bad people being eaten or drank, or whatever pre-digestive process happens.”

  “Define bad people, Mel?” Is he really asking me to give him specifics on who I feel is acceptable for him to eat?

  Rolling with it I say, “Child predators are top of the list.”

  “You feel very strongly about this particular type of “bad person,”” he muses.

  Needing to be busy I climb to my feet and start picking up what I can in his room. “When I was seven years old my best friend, Neva, and I were as thick as thieves. We did everything together back then,” I smile sadly at the memories of two little girls finding each other in this shitty world. I continue, “She was probably the closest thing I ever had to a sibling, but one Friday she wasn’t at the bus stop. We had a sleepover planned that night so, I got worried that maybe she was sick,” I swallow the lump in my throat. Some things never stop aching. “After school, I went to her house to check up on her because cell phones weren’t a thing, and there were cops everywhere,” the breath I take is shaky but doesn’t stop me from continuing. “Neva was kidnapped right out of her bed the night before.”

  “Did they find her?” he asks softly.

  “A week later her body was found in a parking lot stuffed in one of those half-sized suitcases that people try to trick the airlines with.” Clearing my throat, I continue the avalanche of fuckery, “She was brutalized and then strangled. The men who did it, the mother—” I swallow the tears that threaten. “The men claimed that strangling her was in the heat of the moment and a pure accident. They plead guilty to rape of a minor… and manslaughter. They were out on good behavior fifteen years later.” Gritting my teeth, I work through the blush of the rage that once nearly consumed me. “One of them, Rick, kidnapped another girl and murdered her his first week out, he was sent back to prison where he should’ve remained to begin with. The other one, Stan, he’s supposedly seeking treatment and not offending.” I scoff, there’s no cure for pedophilia. There’s no cure for a child murderer of any kind, at least, not one that keeps them walking this earth.

  “The justice system is so fucking broken that it let him walk free after something that awful. I mean, if he’d been caught with some weed or some cocaine he’d have done 30 years. But rape a little girl and murder her and you walk in fifteen.” I take a calming breath and shove my anger back down. “If someone can do something useful and painful with that worthless piece of shit, that’s good in my book.” And it is. I’ll slather him with BBQ sauce myself. “Predators like that are much more of a monster than one who eats people like him.”

  Vale crosses the room and takes the broken piece of ceramic that I’m gripping tightly enough to cut into my palm. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. Lifting my palm to his mouth, he licks it like a tall, good-looking, man-cat. That touch evaporates all those old emotions, and I discover that I’m almost smiling.

  “Bad people only?” he asks. Going along with everything I nod. He could probably ask me to run naked through the hall right now, and I’d agree. I’m a captive in this moment between us, and he knows it. “Done.” The word echoes in the room and I feel the reverberation in my soul.

  WTF?

  Needing to get away from the intensity of being close to him I pull my hand from his and head towards the door, making myself walk fast instead of running like the panic fluttering around in my chest is demanding I do.

  “Have to get meals out again,” I mutter, dodging around the corner and bee-lining straight for the kitchens—the hurricane of everything that has passed today and the memories that still give me nightmares, spurring me on.

  Chapter Ten

  Caged birds accept each other but flight is what they long for.

  Tennessee Williams

  Finished giving out food as quickly as I could and then collecting any old trays, I ask Connie about clocking out, and she told me that they know when I’m here and when I’m not
and to leave at my appointed time. The minute that clock hit 4 a.m. my ass was out the door.

  Now I’m sitting on the cold metal bench at the bus stop waiting for a bus that won’t be here for another 45 minutes. The town around me is still dark and quiet, except for the random person who has to be up before everyone else. Mostly mail and paper delivery people. There are deer in the park across from me; I can see their silhouettes against the backdrop of the early sky. Watching them I start to relax a little because their presence is a spot of peace in a hectic night.

  Taking a deep cleansing breath, I almost relax completely, almost. I can see the squat little man with a mushroom on his head rooting around the garbage cans. To test it I cover my right eye. The purple haze lessens, but it’s still present, which is something new. I can’t full-on see the little guy anymore, but I can see a blurry image, a moving one. Sonofabitch it’s infected my other eye. This—fucking—my thoughts sputter to a halt when Athena lands boldly on my lap and looks up at me her beak open, a look of alarm on her face.

  “What?” I ask concerned. She’s smart, there’s no doubt about that, and something has upset her. Without a sound, she pecks at the hand covering my eye and cussing I drop the hand to look at the cut from her sharp ass beak.

  “Why’d you do that?” I demand, shooing her off my lap. She hops away from my hand only to land back on my lap. “Look, this shit is all kinds of messed up, Athena. There’s no such thing as fairies and sexy vampires and their hot twins and… what the hell is wrong with me?”

  Athena makes her laugh low in her throat and pokes my face right next to my weird eye, gently this time.