AlcyLeyva_AndThenThereWereCrows_EbookFormatting_Nook

by And Then There Were Crows (retail) (epub)

  He kept staring. I remembered right away the last person to stare at me that way.

  From behind me, a cheery voice started speaking. He was larger in size and had red hair. “Okay, Phil. Just waiting for you lawyer … to … call … me—”

  Then he stopped and started staring, too.

  My nerves got the best of me. I felt like I was being strangled again, being beaten on. The way their eyes bugged out of their faces, that slack jawed expression—the last guy to stare that hard ended up a demon-doggy treat. Then a cellphone went off.

  “RUN, BITCH. OMMAGAHD. RUN, BITCH, OMMA-OMMAGAHD.”

  Phil slowly picked up his cellphone and said, “I’ll call you back,” then hung up.

  “No need. It’s your phone call. I was actually leaving,” I said, and pushed through them. I was banking on them not attacking me out in the open, but who knows if a demon would care about that at all.

  Luckily, I found a few cops nearby that were busy trying to arrest Barnem in the dog park as he kept shouting, “But you let the mongrels do it!”

  A few minutes later, I picked up the public indecency ticket, my stern-faced Seraph, and hauled ass with him to the train. As we made clear of the park, behind me I could spot Phil and his friend talking to the other cultists who also began to stand and stare.

  We rode the train to Queens in silence. He didn’t seem to be in a talking mood at all, opting instead to rest his head on the edge of the window. I sat there, not being able to tell if I had forgotten how much of an uncaring bastard he could be or if he had mastered the practice in the weeks he had gone missing.

  He was still wearing the same clothes, and still smelled of wet feathers, but now laced with other fine fragrances such as month old armpit funk and, for some reason, brie.

  Halfway home, Barnem gave me the good news.

  “You’re going to hell.”

  I shook my head. “Yeah. Hi to you, too.”

  Barnem didn’t blink.

  “Whoa! C’mon now, Barnem. That’s kind of harsh. Even coming from you.” Taking in the serious expression on his face, I backed away. “Wait. You mean it? I’m going to hell? ‘Hell’ hell?”

  “Saying it twice doesn’t make it worse,” Barnem groaned.

  “Yes it does! Especially hell, Barnem. The hell. Lake of fire, valley of moaning souls hell! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “What is it with humans and their places of endless torment and suffering?” Barnem mumbled to himself. “You all describe hell like it’s a small town in Wyoming. I’ve been to Wyoming and I’m sure hell isn’t half that bad.” Spotting the blank expression on my face, Barnem sighed. “Yes, Grey. Hell.”

  An older woman boarded the train car. She wore a beige wool sweater and perfectly ironed gray skirt. “Hello and God bless,” she started, in her thick Caribbean accent. She held stacks of neon-colored pamphlets in her hand, written in font that screamed homemade. “I come to talk to you about the Bible, about the words in the Bible, and the everlasting love God has given to you this afternoon.”

  Hearing her sermon was making things infinitely worse. Barnem went into his coat pocket and whipped out a small pack of sunflower seeds.

  “You didn’t want to know before. Didn’t want anything to do with this whole mess you started. And now you’re all ears, eh?” He grabbed a handful and dumped them into his mouth. “You entered a pact with a demon, Grey. What else was supposed to happen?”

  I waved my hands about because I had nothing to say.

  “The Beast is evil incarnate. The embodiment of unspeakable evil. The Shades, the pieces you scattered around after killing Gaffrey Palls, are poison to the soul. Whatever good is inside of you, whatever light you carry, gets snuffed out. I’ve seen it. People possessed by a Shade go mad, crazy, within days, some in only a few hours.”

  “But I’m not …” I didn’t want to say it. I have always sworn off the word.

  “Yeah, you’re not,” Barnem replied. “But the other folks out there aren’t so lucky. I made the mistake thinking that the Shades you let loose would get the fuck out of Dodge. But if what you’re saying is true, they haven’t. They’re here in New York. And they have their sights on you.”

  The preaching woman spoke over us, getting louder and louder. Sweat broke on her forehead and a croak grew in her voice, but she soldiered on about the worry we carry on ourselves, on the fires that await the fallen.

  I had never felt so much pressure, in my chest, my shoulders, my head. I was used to beating down the worries of getting mauled to death by a tiger while hailing down a cab on 50th and Lex. Now I had to deal with being sent to hell when I die. This was on an entirely different plane.

  I tried to keep the words from knotting in my throat. “So then why? Why bother coming back if I’m such a lost cause?”

  “Ah … because, you fought off not one but two attacking Shades, Grey. Two. And call this a hunch, but you don’t seem like the kind of person that’s going to take a little thing like eternal damnation lying down.” Barnem smiled. “And I’m here to help.”

  “He’s eyeing you,” the woman said emphatically as her MTA sermon was drawing to a close. She was staring at me. “He’s looking upon you. Watching over you. Powerfully. The Bible says He’s infallible, He’s powerful, He’s mighty. The source of all Salvation. And He has angels who bow down and serve him. The messengers of His light.”

  “I’ll take one of those pamphlets,” Barnem said, raising a hand. The lady seemed as shocked as me. I tried to read Barnem’s face, his eyes, the crook of his mouth, but I couldn’t tell anything from looking at him. He looked tired, run down. A typical non-caring New Yorker.

  “God loves you,” she said, handing him the pamphlet, voice trembling.

  Before I could ask what the hell that was about, Barnem sloppily spit the mangled shells into the bright green paper, right on top of the words, “His Word Is Love”.

  He turned to me and said, “I’m your best shot at surviving all of this, Grey. Trust me.”

  CHAPTER 11

  As we boarded the elevator to my apartment building, I fetched my cell and fiddled with it. Barnem had left me alone the rest of the ride, maybe so that the weight of the entire shitstorm could hit me all at once. I didn’t let it, though. I couldn’t risk falling apart, and I managed to quickly bury the voices swirling in my head. And this is major. Like earth shattering. Because this was coming from me—someone who once saw another kid carving into a tree and I threw my boot at him because I felt he was carving into me.

  I’ll admit that it was Barnem who made it possible. He was crass, uncaring, and pretty high on the asshole scale—hovering around a 8.5-8.7—but he had a point. Sure, there have been some seriously shitty moments in my life, but I’ve only gotten this far by never throwing myself a pity party. My mom taught me that. There are better ways to spend your time. I learned while having to navigate every damn public place like a live minefield. It taught me that I wasn’t going to survive worrying about my screwups for too long because there are billions of other things to worry about. I had started this and even if I was going to be eternally damned, I needed to make things right. For my parent’s sake. This was my fault and I had to step up to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else. It was going to take the two of us.

  Barnem stopped the elevator door with his hand before it closed. “Say, Grey. That sister of yours. You tell her anything? About doomsday and the demon and so forth?”

  “Don’t worry. She’s on a need to know basis, and that’s how she’ll stay.” I flicked the phone’s screen on and saw that it read ten missed calls from the she-witch herself. “Besides, she stays away from this place like the plague. It’ll be easy to avoid someone when they are nowhere to be found.”

  “Right …” Barnem slid out of the elevator and back out into the main hall. Scratching the back of his head, he grumbled,
“I’ll take the walk up if you don’t mind.”

  “Wait! What happened to being the only person that could help me?” Flustered, I kicked the door as it closed. Leave it to Barnem to have me regret even a shred of goodwill toward the guy. I went back out in public for what, easily the most half-assed angel on the planet? I felt like an exposed nerve as the familiar chill seized the side of my head, my jawline. My panic can come in two forms. Either I exploded in large, blossoming, fiery fucks across the sky or, and this is when things get really unbearable, a thick paralysis sets in, molasses in my bones. I started pacing, breathing, trying to shake it free.

  I was able to dump most of it off by the time I reached my poncho door. But as I pushed it aside, what was there to greet me plunged me right back into the cold cement.

  Ten sets of luggage sat around my tiny apartment, surrounding a pudgy little woman who stood as I walked in. Even though I knew she was younger than me, the blue dress drenched in a heavy fur coat, the caked on makeup, the doily thing on her head that was so small that it could only be a hat for a small section of her hair made Petunia “Ingrid” Grey look more fifty-two than twenty-five.

  Saint, the rat dressed as a dog, narrowed his little beady eyes at me as his owner asked, in natural fashion, “Amanda, dear. How are you? Why aren’t you picking up your phone? And what happened to the door?”

  A couple minutes later, I sat with my spine so straight that it was painful, palms melded to my knees, fingernails ripping into my flesh, and a terrified smile on my face.

  “What do you mean, you’re staying here now?”

  Petty rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.”

  She was still dressed like she was born around WWII: conservative skirt, small blazer, a tiny hat, all in this ash gray color. As much as she reminded me of mom, she dressed older than her in every way.

  “This isn’t funny,” I said, “Not as a joke. Not as anything. What happened to the—?”

  “Oh, honey, please don’t mention that God awful hotel. I will not speak of that awful place.”

  “Fine. But you can’t—”

  “It was like hell on earth, if hell was a half star room with a four star price tag. I specifically asked to check on the bed sheet thread count. And they lied! Just tossed out some number. As if I couldn’t tell! No decency in this world, I tell you. Zero. None left.”

  “And another hotel?”

  “All booked, I’m afraid. Plus they’re charging price is outrageous.”

  “Price has never been an issue before. What about what’s-his-face?”

  “If you’re referring to my husband Brad, dear, he’s away on business. He moves where the money moves, I suppose, and I don’t care to ask. He has our finances on a short leash during this trip and I would rather shop than argue with another secondhand servant at some glorified hovel.”

  As I set my nails into my palms and caught Petty looking at them, she added, “You still do that thing with your hands?”

  Infuriated, I popped right up and shouted, “That’s it! You can’t stay here, Petty!”

  “Oh, I know.” She looked around. A breeze blew in from the hallway and lifted my poncho door up. “It’s a risk, for sure.”

  “No,” I growled. “I’m saying you can’t. Cannot. No space at the inn.”

  Petty looked back at the closed door leading to the room she and I shared as kids. Mom and dad always slept in the living room in the fold out bed in the couch. Petty perked up a painted eyebrow. And as she looked back at me, something snapped.

  That was it.

  It’s funny how thoughts of pure, unadulterated evil can make you laugh, make you cackle like a witch deserving of a house dropping on her. My odd, side of the mouth huffing, the glazed look in my eyes, must have made me seem like I had gone from zero to full psycho because Petty leaned away from me.

  “Why didn’t I think of it before,” I asked out loud.

  “Well, I don’t know,” my sister started to say, but I shhh’d her. I shhh’d her hard.

  “Stay,” I begged her. “Stay, stay. Stay-right-there.” Saint gave me an odd look like I was talking to him.

  I walked slowly to my roommate’s door and placed my hand on the doorknob. I was still laughing when I gave it a turn. Throwing it completely open and knowing the ramifications of such, I walked back to the living room, feeling the demon trudging behind me, probably half asleep, but still towering over me.

  I took a seat next to Petty.

  And I waited.

  I thought about how ridiculous I was about the whole thing. Barnem, Petty, Donaldson. All of these people shoving themselves into my life when I absolutely didn’t want or need them to. And here I was, hiding the one thing that was a sure fire way of giving them the full flaming middle finger. Maybe I was delirious, but here was my “Get Out of Jail Free” card to trump all cards. Petty would run out screaming and I could carry on with the usual terribleness of my life without her. This was one thing that I had learned early to never do, and the one thing I had decided to throw to the wind in that moment: never show people your demons.

  The tall, lanky shadow yawned and then sat cross legged on the floor, rubbing the lazy sheen out of its large yellow eyes.

  A tremble ran through Petty as she looked at him.

  He sat slouching off to the side, dozing off again.

  Petty didn’t scream. She only blinked at him.

  Then, finding the words, she pointed at him and said, “You got a roommate?”

  Realizing that I had been holding my breath the entire time, I exhaled before nearly passing out. Through the coughing fit, I said, “What the hell!”

  “Hel-lo,” she said right into its face. “Can-you-please-move-your-crap-from-that-room?”

  I snagged Petty by the wrist before she could continue and pulled her through the poncho and out into the hallway.

  “You don’t see a major problem with that … thing in the living room?”

  “Of course I do,” she said earnestly. “I mean it’s kind of you to offer— um, I want to say an Egyptian immigrant— to room with you. But if mom and dad find out that you’ve rented out your room, they’ll flip, Amanda. Absolutely. Flip.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and Petty, sweet dumb Petty, put her hand on my shoulder. “Was it money concerns? Did you fall behind? May I offer—”

  I slapped her hand away. “I don’t need your money, Petty!” I was so shaken up, I was trembling. I wasn’t crying. I was furious.

  “Oh,” she said and laughed. “I’m not giving you money, dear. I was offering to help you check Mom and Dad’s backup savings.”

  I gagged. “Their backup? What backup?”

  “You don’t remember? Mom and Dad’s backup savings. It’s on a bank card, probably in the closet of the room your ‘guest’ is staying in. Mom stored it for a rainy day. I say you should find it and I’ll check how much is on it first thing in the morning. If it’s enough, I’ll use it for a flight back home— no harm no fowl, I can tell where I’m not wanted— and the rest can go to you getting that guy of yours to move out. Soon as I get back abroad, I’ll have hubby replenish the savings and Mom and Dad will never know.” She patted my back. “How’s that sound? You’ll be okay here? Can you stand a dinner with your younger sister tonight?”

  She called for Saint whose little paws skidded across my wood floors and through the poncho. She fetched him from the floor and tucked him under her arm. Just before she walked away, she spun around.

  “Oh and I’ll swing by Lou and see what he can do about this door. Fix it up for you, okay?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Dealing with Petty had always been a chore. I wasn’t sure what was going on.

  “Petty.”

  “Ingrid, dear. That name…” She lightly tapped her ears.

  “Why’d you come? Why’d you come all the way h
ere?”

  She smiled, forcing her makeup to bunch up on her skin. “To check on my big sister of course. Now don’t forget to bring the card tonight at dinner. A place nearby. I’ll text you the address.”

  I pushed aside the poncho and stepped inside my apartment feeling emotionally spent. Had I been wrong about Petty this entire time? Had I been too hard on her? I shook this off as I stood over the body of my demon roommate, dead asleep, mouth wide open and its fat gray tongue plopped out onto the floor. Petty hadn’t been able to see him for what he was, and this made me nervous.

  Taking the opportunity to look for the card, I finally got to take a look inside the back room. The walls were painted black with purple curtains lining the only window. The bed— the one that used to be my bed— was covered in a soft, crimson bedsheet. A cheap lamp, sans a shade, sat in one corner of the room. But other than that, nothing totally out of the ordinary. Honestly, from the makeup of the room, I couldn’t be sure if I had rented out my room to a hellspawn or Prince. No sacrificial altar. No phantom blood stains. And this always drove me crazy about the shadowy bastard. The few times I felt like I was going to step into something truly dark and awful, there was absolutely nothing to show for it. Nothing. Until of course something truly horrible landed on my lap in a way I couldn’t see coming, like getting attacked in an alleyway.

  As I looked through the baskets in my closet filled with my mom’s manilla envelopes, the ones she had dumped all of her important papers into, I couldn’t help but feel like Petty had somehow given me an out. This money could have set everything straight. She would be able to leave and I could go on living in the apartment without a demonic-sourced income. Sure, according to Barnem, I was going to hell and I couldn’t avoid it. But at the very least, if I was going to help Un-end the world, my life needed some traction.

  As I contemplated the proper ways to break up with a roommate from the seventh ring of hell, I found an envelope with my mom’s writing on it entitled “Family Funds”. Petty wasn’t lying. In the envelope was a bank card rubber banned in a pizza menu with the pin code written on the flap.