A Murder of Magpies (28 page)

Ward wedged between Marty and me. The tightening of his hand into a fist, the urge
to clock Marty in the jaw, I felt it coming off him, unguarded and unasked for, and
I retaliated by stroking his neck with my fingers and a wave of calm.

All it took to create a panic was one person igniting a fire.

I asked Marty, “What’s stopping you from blathering to everybody? You’ve had plenty
of time to run your mouth, but you haven’t yet. Why now?”

He gave a perverted curl of his lip. “Vayda, how far will you go to keep your little
secret?” He glanced at Ward. “Is that how you got her? ’Cause you found out and the
only way she shuts you up is to get on her knees and beg?”

Ward’s fist moved quickly, but not as fast as Jonah’s arms reaching to pull him back.
I shouted at Marty, cussing him out in my mother’s tongue. The commotion caused enough
noise to draw my father out of the storeroom. “Boy, get outta my shop. If I catch
you hassling these kids again, forget the police. I’ll deal with you myself. You understand?”

A bluish shadow tainted Marty’s skin as Dad tugged on his bicep and towed him to the
entrance, but Marty pulled back, hollering, “If you thought what happened to Jonah
was bad—”

Dad heaved him outside. “Shut your mouth and get out!” He whipped around to face us,
composed on the outside, but his voice gave enough of a quake to give him away. “Listen
to me, all three of you. I want y’all to stay away from him. That Pifkin boy is nothing
but smoke. No fire. But even smoke can do you in if there’s enough of it.”

***

A snowball sailed past my head and wetly thumped against the barn. I smiled at Ward
drying his hands on his jeans. Jonah buttoned a thrift-store trench coat and stood
close enough for his hot breath to skim the crown of my head. “You don’t have to do
this, Sis.”

I chucked a snowball, watching it splat beside the remnants of Ward’s, and wrapped
tighter in my own coat. “I can’t live like this. Marty’s scared. Animals attack when
scared. This stops tonight.”

The energy balling in my fingertips intensified, supplemented by my every shiver,
and I clenched my hands to dim the electricity sneaking out. A spark and snuff like
flint steel striking against itself to procure a flame.

Save the energy for later
, Jonah intoned in my mind.

I’ll be fine
.

I thought the dark mornings and darker nights of winter couldn’t get any blacker,
but the cold and storms had been unrelenting. Hills of snow and ice buried Black Orchard.
Ward pitched another snowball, this time into the woods.

“I know you’re pissed,
gadjo
. We’ve been over this. It’s the only way Marty will let us be,” I said.

He didn’t believe me. Hell, I didn’t believe myself, believe I’d gone back on a promise
I’d made to myself. After last spring, I swore I’d never let myself be alone with
Marty, but what else could I try? He wouldn’t leave us alone. Even if he wound up
serving time, in the meantime he could set a hundred tiny fires that would become
an inferno.

“Why’s Marty after you?” Ward asked. “Even before he knew what Jonah can do, he’s
sniffed around you. He said he went out with you. Was he messing with me?”

I kicked at a discarded snowball near my feet. “After we came here, we didn’t know
anybody. Marty knew Chloe, and when Jonah and Chloe dated last year, Marty asked me
out.”

“You really went out with him?” Ward’s nose wrinkled in disgust, and he coughed.

“No one had ever taken the time to get to know me. I didn’t know any better. I get
tired of being alone. We were hanging out with Jonah and Chloe at a park, and they
went off. I was alone with Marty.”

I blinked several times, cracked my knuckles poking through my fingerless gloves as
my shoulders went tight. “He was nice, but I wasn’t into him. He knew it, and we were
waiting for Jonah and Chloe. But it was taking a while so Marty made a move. He kept
putting his hands on me. When I told him to stop, he didn’t listen and it wasn’t okay.”

“Did he hurt you?” Ward asked. The tightness had worsened, making my muscles feel
like stretched bands ready to snap. I didn’t answer him, and he took my hand. “Did
he hurt you?”

I didn’t want to tell him what Marty did, how he’d gripped the back of my neck when
I told him no, how he twisted my wrist hard enough to leave a bruise. Jonah had never
explained to Chloe how he knew to come running after me, but they’d found Marty dragging
me toward a wooded walking trail as I struggled against him. A bulb in a lamp post
exploded. It was the first time I shattered a light. I’d been hurt. I’d been scared.
I was hurt and I was scared again—but not of Marty, rather what he could do to my
family, my life.

“Don’t put yourself through this,” Ward pleaded.

“I know how to handle him.”

“Vayda…”

“I have to do this.”

Marty’s SUV snaked along the snowy drive, following the tracks etched by Dad’s Chevy
when Jonah came home from taking him to work. The SUV came to halt in front of the
stone house with an exhaust cloud from its tailpipe as Marty stepped out of the car.
He checked over me, as if assessing my value. I buttoned my coat.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

My pulse tom-tommed between my ears. Get in, get out, and hopefully, I’d have a palm
full of Marty’s memories stuffed in my pocket when I returned home.

“Come on, Vayda.” He sounded irritated as he reached for my hand.

I didn’t let him touch me as I opened the passenger door.

“Wait.” Ward put his arms around me. His lips were beside my ear, his voice a whisper.
“You can walk away right now.”

“I can’t,
gadjo
. He’ll always be there. He hurt me. He hurt my brother. He threatened us. I can’t
let him get away with that. Not anymore.”

Ward gave a low growl. As he pulled back, his fingers lingered on my wrist and elicited
a spark before he trudged toward the barn.

Jonah tipped his face to the sky. “Pifkin, you’ve got no chance with Vayda. Give it
up.”

What was he doing? Trying to give me an out? No. I was tired of always being afraid.

Marty ran his hands over his hair. “This isn’t about trying to get with Vayda. I wanna
make her squirm. I’m gonna have a hell of a lot of fun doing it. You might have some
kind of power, but I’m the one calling the shots.”

“Don’t even try to play me,” I said through the ache of my jaw, molars grinding together.

Easy, Sis.
Jonah rubbed his feverish hands on my arms. The heat sank through my coat, underneath
my flesh, and into my bloodstream.
I’ll be right behind you. Everything’s golden.

Time to go. From the car, I stared out the window, first at my brother and then Ward
as Marty drove the gravel path to the street. I was alone with him. My fingers dug
into the leather of my seat, and my back was stiff.

I kept my face on the evergreen corridor. “Where are we heading?”

“Someplace to talk. We have a score to settle.”

For ten minutes, we wound through Black Orchard, not saying much over the hip-hop
music on the stereo. It was heavy on the bass and shook my seat. He parked at a playground
near our school. During the summer, the lot teemed with my classmates making out.
That night, the park was still. Shadows whisked over the snow, ghosts and memories
of the last time I was alone with Marty in this park.

He dropped his hand from the steering wheel. “So are you actually wet for that Ravenscroft
punk?”

“Crude, much?” I asked.

“So aren’t you gonna ask what I want?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re so subtle.”

“I understand why you were scared off before. I’m a big guy, but maybe Ravenscroft’s
broken you in by now.”

I recoiled and leaned against the passenger door. “Oh, my God, Marty. Shut up.”

He reached over to the glove box and withdrew a flask, offering me a swig of whatever
was inside. No way. I didn’t trust him not to have spiked it with something, even
if he did uncap it and take a long slug. His hazel eyes surveyed the park, his lips
shiny as he ran his tongue across the lower one. I checked for headlights. All the
tightness in my neck and shoulders writhed down my veins to my fingers, but I sat
on my hands. I had to store up that energy. Just in case.

The park was empty, but the park rangers wouldn’t begin patrols until ten. A car,
hard to tell the color in the faint lights of the playground, was parked at the other
end of the lot. Snow covered the slides and swings and blanketed the ground. Jonah
and Ward should pull in shortly.

“Let’s do this.” Marty sighed and unclipped his seatbelt before popping the lock on
mine.

I exhaled as he pulled me near. I had to let him get close, closer than I’d ever want
him. His lips, slick and cold from the rim of his flask, found my neck. I didn’t move,
didn’t push him away. Ward’s face, hurt and jealous, lodged in my brain. Though he
and I talked the plan over, we both hated the idea. I felt ill and guilty, and my
pulse rose in my ear, beating hard and fast like frantic wings. Energy looming and
threading, faster, mounting. Filling me until it swam under my skin.

Still, I was patient. All I needed was for Marty to peer into my eyes.

His lips snaked up the side of my neck, his tongue slipping across my ear. I writhed
away from him. “Stop!” Writhing under his anger, I muttered, “I’m not into that.”

He moved his face to my neck once again but didn’t kiss me. Instead, his breath, which
smelled bitter—bourbon—blew against my cheek. “So what is your brother, some kind
of mutant?”

“Marty Pifkin, your wits have been damaged by too many comic books.”

Glowering, he drew a lighter from his pocket. The flint scratched. A flame stretched
up from the lighter only for Marty to let it die out. Again, a scratch of the flint
and hiss of butane as the flame wavered between us. Then darkness. Without warning,
he stepped out of the car, stalked around to my side, and yanked open my door. “We’re
taking a walk.”

Marty’s hand extended to me, but I wouldn’t let him touch me if I could avoid it.
His energy was awful enough; I didn’t want another physical touch to overwhelm what
I already had stored inside and kept a foot of distance between us as we strolled
along the icy walkway toward the playground. I needed to stay calm, but edginess needled
me. Headlights illuminated the street leading to the park, and my stomach sank: not
the Chevy, but a minivan rolling toward the subdivision beyond the park.

“You see the cuts on Sister Tremblay’s face? Jonah jacked her up, didn’t he?” Marty
asked.

“He didn’t do it. My brother’s got a temper, but he’s not a psychopath,” I snapped,
wetness from the snow permeating my jeans. “Why do you hate him so much? All he did
was stop you when you were out of control.”

“He thinks he’s better than everyone.” Marty glimpsed over his shoulder. I glanced
around, only the shadows of the playground looming across the streetlamp-lit snow.
“He told me I’m not good enough for you.”

His energy hopped, one moment bogged down with spite and the next a blip of excitement.
This wasn’t right. His thoughts weren’t clear or easy to track—could have been the
booze—and my feelers instead extended toward my brother but only found frustration.
Something messed up Jonah’s plan. If I kept Marty distracted, I’d find my opening
to his memories, a vulnerable blink.

A breeze blew loose snow in my face, and I asked, “Why would I be too good for you?
If it’s because I’m
Rom
, well, I’m with Ward and he’s not like me.”

Marty snorted. “It’s because Jonah thinks he’s special. He moves things without touching
them. I can guess why Chloe fell for him, but he’s one twisted bastard. You’re like
him, right? Show me how you do it.”

Nausea battled my stomach. He roosted on a park bench and motioned me to sit, though
I stayed at the opposite end. The streetlamp cast dark slashes across his face, the
angles of cheekbones and the cleft in his chin turning to black gouges.

“So, Vayda”—his voice was a raspy scrape in the night—“did your mom scream as she
burned alive?”

I launched to my feet. My eyes bulged, heart pounding. I ran, but Marty’s meaty fingers
snatched my wrist and wheeled me around against his body.

“Yeah, I know about it.” He backed me toward the bench, his feet clumsily crushing
mine. “Maybe with this little game changer, I will have more than tonight with you.”

“H-h-how’d you find out about my mom?” I fought against his grip, and the more I struggled,
the more energy leaked out of me in small shocks, heat that melted the snow around
our feet. He knew not only about the Mind Games. He knew about our past. How long
had he known?

He bent forward to touch his nose to mine. “Sister Tremblay left your file wide open
on her desk. I’m not much of a reader, but that was interesting. Your family has lots
to hide, more than I imagined.”

He shoved me, and I fell against the bench. For a moment, all I saw were flashes of
red and white, pain blinding me. Marty stood over me with his legs spread wide to
block my escape, and he reached into his pocket, flicking on his lighter. The flame
quavered in the wind. “Scared of fire?”

I couldn’t show weakness. He’d pounce if given an opportunity. I blew out the flame.
He had to try harder to make me flinch.

A sickness, something twisted, oozed out from the playground. Marty’s energy had a
far reach, and this gripped me so hard and close that I wanted to puke.

Suddenly, the left side of my head banged against the bench. Blood gushed from my
scalp as I dropped to my hands and knees. I touched my head and tried to stand, but
I was too dizzy to hold myself up. “Mother of God, that hurts.”

Marty squatted beside me, though I couldn’t see his face. My forehead ached, my brain
ached. I had to get into his head to take his memories, of all that he knew about
us.

Jonah, where are you?