by Meg Kassel
My lips go numb. My heart pounds like a timpani drum in my head. “But my mother was stung. I saw her features in Rafette’s face.”
“He sent a bee to sting her, yes,” he says. “Said his bees chose her and not him, but I think he did it out of spite, revenge. Because I refused him.”
I drag in a breath and lean against the nearest tree. My legs feel like jelly. I need to sit. I need… “She didn’t try to hurt me or anyone. How?”
“Obviously, the drugs dulled that part of her brain. But I believe she had some unique biology that helped—she was a true, gifted psychic, so magic ran through her veins. The bees target those who are mentally unwell, compounding the imbalance already present, turning it into something twisted and dangerous. I don’t know, Angie. Maybe your mom was targeted by the bees and not Rafette.” His gaze rests on me fondly. He smiles, crinkling the skin around his eyes. “We’ll never know, but either way, she found the strength to fight the venom because of her love for you.”
“Love for me?” I almost choke on that, it’s so ridiculous. “She barely knew I was there half the time. We had no home. We lived in that horrible van when we weren’t shacked up with some creepy guy. And you think she loved me.”
“I know she loved you. More than herself. More than anything.”
“Then why not let me live with my dad?”
“Well, paranoia is one of the key ingredients in the Beekeeper venom cocktail. In her troubled mind, she believed she was keeping you safe.” Hank lowers his head. “It was selfish of me to let you stay with her for as long as I did. You belonged with your dad—he’d been searching for you for years—but I knew once you were gone, she’d have no reason to fight any longer.” He drops his head and lets out a shuddering sigh. “My heart died with her.”
His words hit me like a fist. I’m breathless, winded as if I just sprinted a mile.
My mother was protecting me. From herself.
I feel dizzy just trying to digest this, to change my point of view, after so many years of thinking I knew what happened. Now, following the grotesque lines of Hank’s face, I see the stark realization of the harbingers’ reality, and it is far more bleak and lonely than I want to admit.
It makes me rethink Reece’s every grin, every easy laugh. This is an existence of inescapable despair. There’s no way I can cure him of that. I’m not even sure I can stop it from infecting me.
I weakly brush damp hair from my face. “Why did Reece lie to me about Rafette stinging my mother? He knew.”
“He didn’t know,” Hank says.
“How could he not?” I demand. “You all live in a family unit.”
Hank stretches out his wing, folds it on his back. “I knew my actions were wrong, Angie. I didn’t tell anyone about Rafette’s offer or that he stung your mother. To this day, all they know is that I tried to save her and was punished by the ancient one for it. They are waiting for me to request the mortouri—death by the murder of crows.”
It feels like invisible bands are wrapped around my chest. Squeezing, squeezing.
“He cares for you,” Hank murmurs. “Reece Fernandez—as he’s named himself this time around—cares for you very, very much.”
“So that’s why you’re here? To warn me about how Reece and I are doomed.” I stagger back heavily against the tree. I sense I’m going to need its support. “You didn’t come here to reminisce.”
Hank rubs his chin. “Angie, you heard what Rafette had to say about his existence. Harbingers of death can eventually request the mortouri by their murder, and their souls are released. The curse finds another human. It’s not like that for Beekeepers. Rafette believes the only path to freedom from his curse is for him to coerce a weak harbinger into taking the Beekeeper’s curse. He claims to have heard this from one of the ancient ones, but no one can prove it.”
“Rafette thinks Reece is weak?”
“Reece is weak,” he says. “He has feelings for you. He has all but pinned a target on himself.”
“No way. We just started dating. Whatever ‘feelings’ he has aren’t something that would weaken him. He’s even told me he’s leaving after…after whatever is supposed to happen in Cadence, so I don’t get too attached.” I frown at my lap. “I’ve been trying not to.”
“Angelina.”
I look up.
Hank’s wing sags to the ground. The long black feathers brush the soggy mud. “This thing between you didn’t just begin. You were friends as children. You probably don’t remember. He’s grown a lot since then, has a different name. Reece used to come with me on visits to you and your mom. You were six or so when he stopped. The last time, we spent the day at a park. You wore a blue sundress with little white flowers. I brought you crayons and a Sesame Street coloring book. You shared them with him.”
I dig through the dirty boxes of my memories, searching through piles of anxious days and hungry nights for this one day he described. I remember the dress—it was my favorite. I wanted Hank to see me in it—and there it is! The prize on the bottom of an otherwise stinking pile of moldering crap. A golden-haired boy with a pretty smile and dark, sparkling eyes. A bright spot amongst all those rotting things.
“His name was…” I think hard. There were so many people around back then. “Steven. Shawn? Something with an S.”
“Troy.”
“Oh. Well.” I swallow hard, trying to piece it together. To connect the boy from my past to the boy I know now. “I remember you set us up at a picnic table. My mom was in the van, and you went to see her.” I sound faraway to myself, lost in this memory. “Reece—or Troy—colored Cookie Monster green and didn’t understand why I got upset about it, but then he laughed and told me we can use any color we want. I thought he was…” Cute. Sweet. He’d accompanied Hank on a few subsequent visits to us. How many times did my heart leap at the thought of seeing that kind, handsome boy when Hank would knock on the van door? My mind didn’t remember Reece as that boy, but something in my heart must have.
“Reece fell for you back then, and that’s my fault, too. When, by awful coincidence, the group found itself in Cadence, he couldn’t stay away from you. They couldn’t deny him the chance to be happy for a little while, but no one anticipated Rafette’s interest in him.” Hank’s expression turns pleading. “Angie, please. Allowing this relationship to continue could destroy both of you. Reece will do anything to protect you from harm.”
“You mean he might…”
“Not might—would. Reece would trade himself to the Beekeeper so your life may be spared. Reece has doubts this is possible, but Rafette thinks this is a sure bet. He’s picking out his curtains in hell.”
My stomach drops, twists into a knot. Reece fell in love with you, bit by bit… He was a little older than me. My recollections from before our playdates fade to basic forms, shapes. I was too little, too accustomed to chronic stress, to hold on to memories. I remember impressions, not details. He remembers everything.
“Do you think it’s possible?” I ask. “Can Rafette turn Reece into a Beekeeper and free himself?”
“I think he can,” he replies. “He wouldn’t be so intent on this course without good reason.”
“I won’t let a childhood crush ruin his life. Or mine.” My words are sluggish, as if my tongue is made of clay. They feel badly constructed because they are. The thing between Reece and me is not some flimsy crush. Hank knows it. I know it. It’s vital that Rafette doesn’t. Ever. I press a fist into my palm. “What do I have to do?”
“End it,” Hank says, simply. “And get out of this town until whatever is going to happen, happens.”
My heart squeezes, painfully. In a different life, under different circumstances, Reece and I would be at the start of something real. Maybe something forever. I’ve seen enough of the fake stuff to recognize the difference—it was all my mom could handle. I’m not sure what my feelings are for him yet, but ambivalence isn’t one of them. I’m attracted to him, and I care for him, too. Allowing hi
m to turn into a monster like Rafette to save me is out the question. Getting out of Cadence is another issue. “Okay. I’ll talk to my dad again. See if he’ll take me with him on his business trip. And…I’ll break up with Reece. I’ll try to convince him I don’t want to be with him anymore.” The words taste bitter just trying them out. They’re going to be vile when I say them for real, knowing what a lie they are.
“You’ll have to do better than try.” Hank gives me a sad smile. “You know, your mother would be proud of you—of your talent, your strong, practical mind. Despite it all, you have a kind, balanced soul. I know you can do this—you will do this, if Reece means anything to you. If you value your own future.”
“Hank.” I reach out, take his hand. It’s solid and warm and brings back a fresh rush of memories. “Will you stay with me?”
His smile fades. Even as my hand falls from his, black vapor curls from his mouth. It doesn’t appear to be completely of his own volition, this shift back to crow form. “I can’t. And remember that harbingers are cursed creatures. Loving one would only curse you, as well. Best to learn that now, before, well…before.”
A knot swells in my throat. Even misshapen and hideous, I want to throw myself in his arms like I used to. He was warmth, safety. A set of clear, focused eyes and steady hands. I hug my arms around myself and stay where I am as he grows smaller and smaller, folding into himself until finally, a bright-eyed crow stands on the ground. It stares up at me before taking flight and disappearing into the trees.
23- the short good-bye
Reece closes the door behind me and frowns. “What’s the matter? You look like you’re about to be ill.”
That’s because I am about to be ill. My heart aches in a way that feels very much like it’s breaking. I ball my hands into fists and choke back a sob.
If I don’t do this now, I won’t do it at all. And then it will be too late.
The kitchen no longer smells like pancakes and syrup, but dish detergent and cotton. I don’t take off my coat.
Brooke breezes in, hand up and eyes averted. “Ignore me. I’m just getting some water.”
“N-no problem,” I stammer out. “We’re just talking.”
She slides assessing eyes over me and arches a brow. “Not the good kind of talking.”
I glance away as Reece’s scowl turns confused.
“What’s going on, Angie?” he asks.
“I met a friend of yours in the woods.”
“Really?” Brooke’s brows raise. “Who?”
“Hank,” I say flatly.
Reece’s eyes squeeze shut. “Brooke, would you mind leaving us alone, please?”
Brooke lets out a low whistle. “Oh boy. I’d rather not, but…” She shrugs, forgets the water, and leaves with a sympathetic look to Reece.
“You actually…saw him?” he asks with a grimace.
“What’s left of him, yes.” My mouth hardens. “It so happens, he’s a friend of mine, too.” I take a deep breath and steel myself. “But you know that already.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, expression cool. “So I guess you had quite a talk.”
“You should have told me Hank was one of you—a harbinger of death. You should have told me we were friends when we were kids.” I swing my arms wide. “Your name was Troy. I can’t believe you never told me that.”
“I was a little surprised you didn’t remember me at all. I thought…” He shakes his head. Hurt flashes in his eyes. “Anyway, you didn’t. I tried to keep my distance. But I couldn’t, obviously. And after, I couldn’t find a way to tell you about our past that wasn’t weird and disturbing.”
My resolve slips, just a little. I cross my arms, determined to do what I need to do. “You want to hear weird and disturbing? That was my mom I saw in Rafette’s features.”
His brows pull together. “Hank told you that? He knows that’s not—”
“Possible?” I finish for him. “It is. He declined a bargain with Rafette, who stung my mom. And he was turned into…whatever he is now, by some ancient creature who monitors you all and changed him because he pulled her out of a burning building.” My eyes narrow. “You knew Hank and my mother were connected. You can’t dole out a tiny slice of the truth and leave out the rest. That’s just another form of lying.”
Hurt flares in his eyes, but his voice is sharp. “Look, I knew they dated for a while, and I tagged along to see you when Hank visited your mom. He didn’t tell me any more than that. Sure, I could have cornered Hank, pressured his already tortured self into sharing his most shameful secret. Would it have made you feel better to know that no matter what Hank chose to do, he was doomed?” He runs an agitated hand through his hair. “I couldn’t tell you about how we met without telling a story that wasn’t mine to tell. It was Hank’s, and he decided to share it with you now.”
“It wasn’t just Hank’s story, but mine and yours, too. We knew each other long before you moved to Cadence, Reece.” I turn away, shoving the damp clumps of my hair out of my eyes. “You should have told me the truth. All of it. I deserved to know that you are in real danger from Rafette. I deserved to know what this relationship could cost you.”
“I was trying to—”
“If you say ‘protect you,’ I’m going to belt you in the mouth. I swear, I will.”
His lips twitch. “I won’t apologize for trying to protect you from the ugly side of what we are.”
“I don’t want your protection, Reece,” I tell him. “I want honesty.”
“You think you’ve seen it all? That nothing can shock you?” he asks, low and menacing. “You’re wrong. You think this thing with people getting stung by Beekeeper bees and having psychotic episodes is bad. Let me tell you this—very soon you are not going to like what you see around here.”
My palms sweat. My heart pounds like a kick drum. My thoughts are not brave. His buildup to this disaster is scaring me, and I’m all full of scary for the week. For a lifetime. “Okay, enough,” I rasp out. “I get it.”
“You don’t. That’s the problem.” Reece sighs and rubs his palms on his jeans. “Why don’t you sit down?” It’s a gentle suggestion spoken with a sad voice. His anger has vanished.
“No, thank you.” I don’t think I can be here much longer. I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. “Reece, Hank pointed out some very clear, very real reasons why regular people and harbingers shouldn’t mix. He, himself, was exhibit A.” My voice wobbles, but my everything else holds firm. “I don’t want us to end up like Hank and my mom. I don’t want to get stung by a Beekeeper bee and you…” I won’t tell him what Hank revealed to me about Reece’s feelings, or the lengths he believes Reece will go to save me. It’s a shot to the nuts when I’m already doing enough damage. “I don’t want you to become like him. You’re going to leave anyway, so we should just…end this now. Before we start to have feelings for each other.”
He stares at me, dumbfounded. “We already have feelings for each other, Angie. We have so little time left, I don’t want to… I thought maybe we could work out something…for after I left.” I can see his throat working as he swallows. He knows where this is going. Knows there’s no chance of changing the outcome of this conversation, but he tries, anyway, and it hurts so bad to hear it, I can hardly breathe. “I’m not ready to say good-bye, Angie.”
“Well, I am.” I say it firmly. With a clarity that surprises me. “What do we have, anyway? A week? Maybe two? Good-bye is inevitable, isn’t it? You think you can do what Hank did, swing in and out of town in between disasters?” I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
“Hank told you to break up with me?” Reece doesn’t wait for a reply, as it must be written all over my face. A splotchy flush creeps up his neck, into his cheeks. “Let’s not forget that this guy is not exactly human anymore.”
I jerk back. “And you are? If my mother had stayed away from Hank, neither of them would have ended up the way they did. We should learn from their mistakes.”
/> “If your mom hadn’t met Hank, she’d have died in that fire.”
“Maybe she should have!” I shout, hating the words, the guilt curling through me. “She suffered. So did I.”
He comes forward, removing the distance between us. “We can keep each other safe by sticking together. Beekeepers feed on fear and chaos, and they don’t store it well. Rafette can’t stay here; that means after the disaster in Cadence, he’ll leave.” One hand comes up, brushes my cheek. I force myself not to lean in to it. “Don’t do this,” he says softly. “You’re smart enough to know we’re stronger together.”
“I’m smart enough to know this is a lost cause.” I break away from his touch, his warmth. “I’m sorry, Reece. This just isn’t worth it. I think maybe…” There’s a lump in my throat the size of a small boulder. “My feelings aren’t the same as yours.” My voice is an echoey hollow. I cross to the back door, not quite feeling my feet on the floor.
This feels so wrong, it shouldn’t be real. But this is my voice saying, “Good-bye, Reece.”
And this is my body, walking out the door.
Quite possibly leaving my heart behind.
24- definitely for the best
Monday is a grim day at school. The parking lot is quiet, save for the relentless rain. Most traces of last Thursday’s violence have been scrubbed away, but a few bullet holes still pockmark the brick of the north wall. Deno sees me getting off the bus and sidles up alongside me.
“Bussing it?” He pulls open the school door and holds it for me.
“Yup.” I duck under his arm and go inside.
He smirks. “Reece drive too fast for you?”
“Something like that.” I shake the rain off my coat. “We broke up.”
“Seriously? Why?”
I force an indifferent shrug. “You know. We wanted different things and all that. It’s fine. Definitely for the best.”
The vibe in the school is sober, tense. I don’t remember the halls ever being this quiet.
