Authors: M. R. Pritchard
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, nervous, 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.
Sparrow knew the words he said to her were not nice, but he liked the way fire lit her eyes when she was angry.
She didn’t offer her arm to him this time; instead he closed the space between them and took her narrow wrist in his large hand. Her heartbeat beckoned him, and he knew the pain he’d caused her moments ago by saying those words would taint her blood. He could taste her emotions as he drank; there was pain, but there was more—something that made his leather pants feel impossibly constricting.
Slowly, he was getting better at this. When she ordered him out of her room, he smiled inwardly, anticipating the next time he’d see her.
Sparrow was finally full. Pain tainted her blood—sated his hunger faster than her fear had on previous occasions.
. . .
Meg
“Did you figure out who was in your room?” Noah is lying on the floor doing sit-ups.
“No.” I roll to the edge of the bed. “Why are you exercising?”
“Gotta keep fit for the ladies.” Noah grunts as he does another sit-up.
“Did you find a pretty one with scales and horns?”
Noah starts doing leg lifts. “No.” His face is turning tomato red.
“Don’t give yourself a hernia. I don’t know what health care is like in Hell, but I get the impression the deductible is sky-high.”