Flock (23 page)

One girl was hit dead-on by a rather large blackbird, its extended wings folding over her like a curtain. Her scream was frantic and hysterical as the bird’s broken wings became entangled in the straps and sashes of her dress’s layers.

What possessed the crowd — myself included — to remain outdoors was as inexplicable as the event itself. Girls continued to scream and cry, boys hollered for their dates and friends, and another fight erupted. Some kids ran, knocking others out of the way, to take shelter under the trees dotting the parking lots and the awnings of the exits facing that side of the building, but many stayed as if they, too, were held outside by an invisible force. In the ensuing panic, Marik and I became separated.

Wandering aimlessly among the mayhem, I eventually became aware of a few teachers and chaperones barking orders to return to the building. Their authoritative tones dragged me out of my stupor. So much had transpired in such a short time frame — the physical effects of the dark energy, the havoc of the crowd’s reaction, and the realization of its symbolism — that I hadn’t had a chance to wonder about, never mind look for, Jack.

In my defense, the huddle of bodies was so thick and their movements so frantic that it would have been a tough chore to find him. Now, with the crowd herding back toward the school, I looked for him, scanning my eyes left and right.

“Everyone back inside, now,” Principal Henrich shouted, directing traffic with wide arm movements. In the distance, I heard the blare of sirens, authorities having been alerted to the situation. And still the
plonk
of dead birds continued to rain down.

With another sweep of the crowd, I caught sight of Marik frantically waving to me. He was at the corner of the building some twenty or so feet away from me, but the shifting pulse of kids still milling about obscured him at intervals.

When the crowd parted again, I got another look at Marik. His full-arm pumping wave was a plea for me to follow him.

While birds continued to drop all around, the principal had now organized the teachers and chaperones to usher everyone back into the building. They corralled kids into a funnel-shaped formation. With two cop cars already pulled up to the fire lane, it seemed an official get-inside directive.

I looked again at the crowd issuing back into the gym. One of the cops had stepped out of his car. He shielded his head from the aviary bombs and jogged to assist the staff with an orderly procession toward shelter. Finally, there in the midst of the throng entering the building, I caught sight of Jack. Our eyes locked, and he sent me his own waving come-here message.

I took a step in that direction while quickly, with a flick of my eyes, relocating Marik, or where he had previously been. I saw only the flash of a dark suit darting around the building’s corner and out of view. Turning, I signaled a go-without-me wave to Jack. He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place until his entire body stiffened and turned to face the spot where Marik had been. Someone else standing beside Jack came into focus at that moment, too. Penny. She looked at me, confused. Without thinking, I hiked my skirt up and took off, following Marik. Immediately, my heart cramped with the decision. In that fleeting moment, Jack’s face had registered a thousand emotions: surprise, alarm, fear, and hurt. That last one cut me to the quick, but, still, I pounded after Marik.

Already, I was defending my actions. It would do no good for me to be sequestered inside. No matter the danger or consequences, I needed to know what was going on.

It was no easy feat dodging falling birds, even though the aerial pelting had lessened considerably. And the icy presence I had intuited — it, too, was diminished. I lost sight of Marik and ran without destination, following a hunch and heading toward the baseball diamond. In the dugout, I found Marik sprawled, as if spent, across the crude wooden bench.

I collapsed next to him. It was the first moment I’d had, away from the hysteria, to truly process the situation. With pinpoint accuracy, it hit me like a guided missile. Straight to the heart. With the
whack
of another dead bird hitting the flimsy roof above us, I drew my legs up under my skirt and huddled into a knot of pain. In this moment of stillness, I heard every bird’s thud to the ground replayed, only double-time, so that the pounding became a constant beat. The visuals to this track were the grotesque faces of my classmates and, finally, Jack’s clouding over with disbelief and hurt. He had seen Marik, of course. Why else would he have stared in that direction?

“I’m not sure what it was,” Marik said, breaking the silence, “but it’s retreating.”

“I know,” I said.

“You know what it was, or you know that it’s going?” Marik pulled his arms across his chest. He looked bigger and more imposing than ever.

I took a long time to answer him, trying to steady my breath, to wait out my thundering heart. “Both,” I said placing my feet on the ground.

“Not Jack,” he said.

“Definitely not Jack,” I replied.

“Brigid of Niflheim, then?” he asked, a note of sadness in the question.

“Yes. What was here tonight was evil to its core.”

“Not in person, though,” he said. “That’s an important distinction.”

Then, to my utter amazement, Marik popped to a stand and hopped up onto the dugout bench. Though it obviously exerted him, he bobbed up and down with an entirely inappropriate giddiness; he hugged his arms to his sides, smiling and even laughing. Tears welled in his eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked, scooting away from his madness.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said, turning his beaming face to the field and the carcasses littering the infield and outfield with dark spots. “You don’t know what it’s like to live without unpredictability, without volatility. And you don’t understand that to have it — even in its darkest permutation — is like a window of blue sky after an eternity of blank walls.”

“I’ll take the blank walls over what we just went through, thank you very much.”

“You think you would.” Marik jumped down and came to a stand in front of me. “But you wouldn’t. You must have seen a few of the beings in Niflheim, witnessed their shrunken forms, their vacant faces. It’s much the same for Vatnheim, but here”— he stretched his arms out wide, turning —“on mercurial Midgard, every moment is full of glorious, unbridled passion and the thrill of the unknown.”

“What if the unknown turns out to be a tragedy of the worst kind of personal misfortune there is?” I asked.

Marik turned back to face me. “You think I don’t understand personal tragedy?” He clutched at his chest. “I’m out of time, remember?”

Something about his intonation when saying “out of time” was different. Its meaning was altered, deeper.

“Out of time how, exactly?”

“Months ago, when I was sent through to broker the original deal, the portals were vulnerable. What we’ve witnessed is an impressive display, one that would require great magic, but that ultimately demonstrates her limitations. The portals hold, as they had for centuries. Anyway, I knew the risk when accepting the assignment.”

“You don’t mean . . . ?”

He nodded his head slowly. “The portals hold. There is no return.”

“But I thought you were, like, immortal or something.” I could hear the fear in my squawky voice.

“Our lives are very long — by your standards, especially — but, like most things, we expire.”

I stood and paced a few steps away from him, thinking. It made sense, I supposed, given Safira’s quest for an heir. But another point didn’t.

“I don’t get it. Someone once told me you were soulless.”

“We are. And a trade-off, perhaps. Though we enjoy longevity, we do not have a reincarnate spirit form as you do. The best English words to describe the difference is that we have an animus while you have a soul.”

Animus? It sounded primitive.

“So when you . . . die . . . ?” My pacing brought me round-trip.

“It’s permanent.”

“But why would Safira sacrifice one of her own people?”

“To gain something much dearer to her: an heir.”

Thoughts twisted through my brain until they became directional, wringing like a rag mop. “But if you’re not returning — if that was always a risk — how are you to take Leira back?”

“I was never to
take
Leira back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Leira is prophesied to die soon. In spirit form, with your assistance, she will transition.”

“What?” I punched my fists down on my hips. “This was never made clear to me.” The full impact of this pronouncement rocked me to my core.

Leira would die. My mom and Stanley would hold her lifeless body. There’d be a funeral and the kind of grief that altered lives, after which I’d be expected to arrange her passage to Vatnheim. It was unthinkable.

“I won’t do it,” I said, rounding on him.

“I am only the messenger.” Marik lifted his hands, a double stop-sign gesture.

I snapped; I heard it, a popping sound like cracked knuckles.
I won’t do it,
I repeated to myself, but then realized it meant nothing if merely internalized. I spun and grabbed him by both shoulders, enunciating, my voice rising with every word, “I won’t do it. I defy Queen Safira. I break the pact.”

“It’s not so easy,” Marik said, plying my fingers off him. “Do you not remember that the pact is charmed with magic, that a powerful spell connects the essentials of the agreement?”

“I don’t care.” My voice increased in volume. “And besides, what does that even mean?”

“Without a change to one of the three essentials — Leira’s soul, your ability, and my animus — the pact holds as far as Queen Safira is concerned. As long as she senses those three are intact, she remains patient.”

“And were one of those
essentials
to change in nature?” I hated even using Safira’s terminology for the heinous agreement.

“I can only guess.” Marik stumbled backward a step. His eyes grew round, and his face blanched.

“Well, what?”

“Queen Safira would seek vengeance. And without an heir — with the failure of what she claimed was her last hope — there’s no telling what she would do.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Marik walked the length of the dugout; his arms were pulled close into his body and his awkward lunges forward were so different from his usual smooth glides. “But you take chances with everything. Everything! Don’t you see?”

“Yes, I’m taking chances. Who wouldn’t to save a sister? As if I could watch her die. As if I could send her to Vatnheim. You yourself described shrunken forms and vacant faces. Even you prefer it here; you said as much.”

Marik hung his head as if it were too heavy to hold upright. “Do you not understand? Life, all life, is a precarious balance. If one realm fails, all fail. And if a personal sacrifice is for the greater good . . .”

That last bit was a wrench to the heart. Marik, whose animus would go out like a light, still cherished everyone and
everything
enough to vie for life’s continuation.

“It just can’t be Leira,” I said, choking up.

“While the three essentials hold, there is still hope, Katla. Believe this.” His skin had gone clammy and pale, and he clutched at his side in pain. “But Jack, I know now, is poison to me. With every moment in his presence, my life force drains. He alone could ruin everything. You must keep him away from me at all costs. Can you agree to this much?”

“I . . . I guess.”

“I trust you in this,” Marik said, backing a few steps before turning and running off slowly and stiffly, as if in great pain.

With his departure, I was gusted back to the scene at hand. The sensory affront of the immediate situation flooded me, and I lifted my tear-filled eyes back to the school. A cacophony of sights and sounds overwhelmed me. More emergency vehicles had arrived; their flashing lights and blaring sirens hurt my eyes and ears. I was aware also of voices, many more voices than before. A line of arriving vehicles bearing, no doubt, anxious parents made their way into the parking lot. In the distance I could see a news truck pulled up onto a curb, with workers scurrying about with cords and cameras. I knew I should find Jack. I owed him an explanation and an apology at the very least. Others would be worried about me as well. For all I knew, my mom’s car was among the procession pulling into the parking lot. But it was all too much to handle. What could I possibly say? How would I explain my absence to Jack? How could I bear distracting my mom and Stanley, diverting them from Leira’s side when she had, according to Marik, little time left? That last thought had me welling with tears as I sprinted over third base and across left field to the line of trees behind the school.

I hid in the stand of woods behind Norse Falls High for what felt like a very long time. Reliving the chain of events since last spring, I crouched under a tree. I was frightened and sad and exhausted and, above all, ashamed. Had I anywhere to go, I’d have set out for it immediately. California crossed my mind more than once.

What exactly did Marik mean that Safira would seek vengeance? Did he know that Brigid sought her cooperation in unleashing Ragnarök? I already had one queen after me; was a second a mere doubling, or was it an exponential increase? Would Safira truly be led into such an evil and irrevocable act? On more earthly matters: Leira was gravely ill, destined to die, were Marik to be believed. And what of his own dilemma? How much longer did he have? And how would I keep Jack away from him?