Flock (33 page)

“You are altered, Katla,” Hulda said.

There was such melancholy in her voice as she said this that I felt glum, too.

“And Jack,” she continued, “I believe, has shared in your fate, as he was destined to do.”

The mention of fate and destiny knocked the wind from my pipes. Just yesterday it had been Leira’s fate to die and take her rightful place in line for Vatnheim’s throne. Yet here she was before me, squirming with life. And, once upon a time, Hulda had told me a Native American legend about Sky Girl, who, by destiny, had been drawn to an apple tree as the ground split open. According to the tale, she had been saved by being borne away to Water World by swans. So many elements of that legend — a part-bird, part-female creature, deliverance by swans, a Water World, apple as the tree-of-life symbol — were significant. And Jack. He had once told me of an unshakable sense of fate since the moment he laid eyes on me.

“Is it permanent?” I asked, reaching for Jack’s hand.

“Yes, I suspect it is,” Hulda said. “Let this sacrifice during an act of great heroism be your consolation. I myself shall be sorry not to witness one of such potential rise in our ranks. I felt sure you were the harbinger of change our flock awaited. But your powers were meant to serve other purposes.”

Leira stretched and began a fresh volley of wails.

“It is time to return this one to the hospital,” Hulda said. “Suspicions will be roused already.”

I hadn’t thought about that. What possible excuse could I have for running off with her? The truth — healing her at a power place — wasn’t going to fly.

“Let’s go,” I said to Jack. “I’ll think of an alibi on the way.” I turned and gave Hulda a wave. Something in the sad nod she returned made my eyes well with tears. Grim stood stonily at her side. After all we’d been through, with everything I was willing to risk, I’d hoped for some small sign on her part. Oh, well. I could save the world, but other things, like Grim, were beyond my control.

Driving back, a hundred possible excuses as to why I took off with Leira ran through my head. None of them were any good and were a distraction I really didn’t need while driving. Leira had already been through one scrape with death that day, as had Jack and I. It took Jack’s jerk on the wheel and the blare of a passing car’s horn to jar me back to reality. I gave up on a feasible story; we’d just have to wing it, a prospect that seemed dicey now that I was no longer “bird girl.”

I parked as close to my original spot as possible. Jack lifted his brows but didn’t say a word when, after gently removing Leira, I chucked the infant carrier into the backseat of some random-to-him car we passed on our way into the building.

Luckily, the hospital was still teeming with people. It appeared that the newer, multilevel wing had been completely evacuated, and the security detail had been reassigned to deny admittance to the upper floors. Having hatched a pretty thin plan, I described it to Jack, found my way to a standing-room-only waiting room, located an out-of-the-way corner, and slunk down against the wall.

“Good luck,” I said to Jack. “You know where to find me.”

I still don’t know how much time transpired between then and my mom shaking me awake. As much as I’d like to proclaim it a thorough acting job, I really had nodded off.

“Kat, wake up. What on earth are you doing?” my mom said.

“What? Huh?” I noticed Jack standing behind her.

“Where have you been?” She scooped up the also-slumbering Leira and pressed her to a wet cheek. “I was so worried. No one knew what happened to you two. Betty had seen you up on the floor, but . . . Why were you even there? If I hadn’t bumped into Jack, I’d still be looking.”

I rubbed at my eyes. I was having a hard time keeping track of who was aware of my double life and who wasn’t. It was a lot to do when just coming to. And now I had to fabricate.

“They said there had been damage to the hospital,” I said. “There was no cell coverage, either. I rushed over to check on her. They were moving everyone off the wing because of possible structural damage, but at one point she’d been left in the hallway unattended.” Because I had kicked over a cafeteria cart, but it was no time for unnecessary details. “So I brought her down here,” I continued. “She seemed better while I was holding her. She settled down and slept, so I just found us a safe corner.”

“She does seem better,” my mom said, her eyes growing big. “A lot better.”

“I hope I didn’t get anyone in trouble,” I said. Meaning me, most of all.

“But I’ve walked through this waiting room at least twice.” Frown lines pressed her forehead into waves. “I would have seen you.”

An all-white-clad figure with a crisply starched smock over polyester floods and lace-up, mall-walker shoes appeared before us. “I see you’re awake now.” The stern voice first addressed me. “I’ve taken it upon myself to check on the two of them from time to time,” Grim said, then leveled that steady gaze of hers upon my mother. She straightened her volunteer badge.

“Oh, you’ve been here?” my mom asked.

“All evening,” Grim said with authority.

OK, so that uppity clack of hers had its advantages. And for the first time ever, I sensed we were on the same team, flock as Hulda had so recently called it. Too bad such solidarity had to come post-suspension, post-loss of powers.

Another figure, one with a clipboard, hurried up to Grim and reported to her like a new recruit to a general. “I have another three volunteers arriving who need assignments,” she said to Grim.

I had to blink back my surprise. This subservient do-gooder was none other than Dorit, our expelled-for-revealing-secrets former Stork, who — last I’d heard — had left town amid a cloud of shame, distrust, and suspicions. I started to open my mouth but received such a quick flare of nostrils from Dorit that I clamped my lips, biting my cheek in the process.

“I will be right with them,” Grim said. “As long as everything here is fine.”

“Yes,” I mumbled.

“And thank you,” my mom added. “Thank you so much.”

Grim nodded to my mother, nodded to me, and strode away with Dorit scurrying behind her.

A lump formed in my throat. So I hadn’t been right about everything. Life, people still had the capacity to surprise me. And Grim looked good in white; it flattered her features, rendered her softer, prettier even.

“I should find Stanley and let the nurses know everything’s fine.” Again, my mom hugged Leira close to her. “I just can’t get over how robust she looks, though I hardly dare say it.” She walked away, cooing to a pink-faced Leira.

Jack lowered himself to sit beside me on the carpeted floor. “I caught a bit of CNN while I was roaming, trying to bump into your mom.”

“What’s going on?”

“A lot of head-scratching over the coincidence of so many natural disasters.”

“Like?”

“Earthquakes in Australia and California. Electrical storms along the eastern seaboard. An avalanche in the Andes. A wildfire in China.”

“So our storm?”

“Just a blip on the world’s radar.”

“A blip,” I repeated.

He nodded his head yes.

“I think I could get used to being a blip.” I tucked my hand under his.

“Me, too,” he said, cupping his own around my fingers and squeezing.

“Wanna be blips together?”

“Sure. One thing, though.”

Uh-oh.

“What?” I asked.

“No more secrets, no more heroics, no more asinine, self-sacrificing plots.”

Asinine. Ouch.

“How could I, anyway? Just a blip, remember?” I said.

He didn’t look convinced.

I dropped my head on his shoulder. “You know I did what I thought was my only option, but I’m sorry if it . . . excluded you.”

He lifted my chin with his finger. “Don’t ever . . .” He had a hard time continuing.

“What?”

“Just promise you’ll include me in your travel plans next time.”

“I promise.” I laughed and then melted into him for a kiss. It was sweet and hot and promise-worthy. I definitely intended to include him in my future travel plans, all plans, for that matter.

Saturday morning I headed over to Afi’s to help out. Jack, I knew, was at his parents’ place doing his part in their cleanup. This shared activity felt like a small connection during our day-after duties.

Upon arrival, I couldn’t help exclaiming, “Whoa. This place is a —”

“Damn mess,” Afi finished for me.

I surveyed the scene before me. A tree limb had crashed though the front window. Daylight streamed through its jagged edges, casting a zigzag reflection upon the merchandise-littered floor. A broom-in-hand Ofelia came around one of the aisles, sweeping as she went. Dust floated up like mist, obscuring the space between us. When it had settled, I found her giving me a puzzled look, which turned quickly to surprise, then disappointment.

“Did you hear about Leira?” I asked her, diverting attention from me.

“Doing better, I hear,” Ofelia said.

“She’s being discharged today. The doctors are calling it a remarkable turnaround.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ofelia said. “Your mother and Stanley must be so happy.”

“Over the moon,” I said. “And back again.” I pointed to the dark light fixture overhead. “Any word on power?”

“Sure,” Afi said. “The word is
out.
”

“What does the back room look like?” I asked, biting back a smile.

“That’s the worst of it. If I’d wanted a gosh-darn skylight,” Afi said, shaking his head, “I’d have put one in myself.”

My eyes popped open. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“That’s what the insurance agent said.” Afi scratched his stubbly chin. “Could be the damage exceeds the value of the place.”

“That sounds even worse,” I said.

“If it comes to that, I’ll take it as a sign. I needed this like I needed a hole in my . . . roof.” He swiped at the air with his hand and turned on his heel, heading for the back.

The front door chimed; Jinky and Penny walked in. Penny’s knee was bandaged, but her limp was already improved from the day before.

“Hey, guys,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“We came to help,” Penny said. “Jinky told me she was on her way over, and I volunteered.”

“That’s so nice of you guys,” I said. “But are you sure that’s a good idea with your injury?”

“It’s just banged up. Besides, it feels good to get out of the house and do something.” Penny tugged a rope bracelet back into position. “Keeps me from worrying too much.”

“About what?” I asked.

Penny exchanged a look with Jinky. “Marik. He’s just not himself. I keep trying to get him to go to the doctor, but he won’t listen. He’s just so stubborn.”

“It’s a guy thing,” Jinky said, nudging her shoulder into Penny’s. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

It seemed a promise Jinky couldn’t keep. I wondered how much she understood of what had transpired yesterday. Not the full story, it would appear.

Marik was my biggest regret. Because the shell-game dream and my subsequent suspension were both followed so quickly by Idunn’s grift, I never had the chance to snag him a soul. And I would have, dang it all.

“What’s the word around here?” Penny asked. “It doesn’t look so bad.”

“The back took the brunt of it,” Ofelia said. “A sizable chunk of the roof was blown away.”

“Oh, no,” Penny said.

“Unfortunately, it could be the final straw that forces him out of this place,” I said. “And I can’t imagine Norse Falls without the store.” I covered my mouth with my hand. “Oh. I hadn’t thought about how this would affect you, Ofelia. What would you do?”

She leaned on her broom. “You know, Jinky came to me for advice on that New Age shop she and Penny designed. It’s not a bad idea. Something to think about for the future.” She lifted her mischief-filled eyes. “And I know of a multitalented individual who would be an ideal . . . consultant, coworker, whatever she could manage.”

Jinky smiled. It may have been the first time I’d ever seen her gums. They looked pink and healthy. She obviously had excellent dental hygiene. Another surprise.

“I guess the whole thing could have been worse,” Penny said. “Pinewood’s the one that got hammered. Besides the high school, I heard they lost their post office, a bank, a grocery store, not to mention the fatalities. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and a silence fell over us. No one had brought up the dead all day, as if it were a jar best left sealed.