Someplace to Be Flying (34 page)

“What do you say, Kerry?” he asked. “You want to take your chance in this war zone they’ve put you in, or will you let me take you someplace safe?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said.

Well, that settled that. Outnumbered as he was, he couldn’t exactly snatch her anymore. Thing to aim for now was to get out of here with his own skin intact.

“Okay,” he told her. “Your choice. But if you change your mind, come see me. I’m living right across the street, second floor.”

He saw Chloë‘s eyes widen slightly at that and would have taken pleasure in the fact that he could still slip in under their noses if it didn’t also point out how totally unprepared they were for one of the cuckoos simply walking in on them. But that was their problem. He’d watch out for Kerry, even if she didn’t want his help, but the crows could fend for themselves.

“We’re done here, right?” he asked Chloë.

He could see she didn’t like it. None of? them did. Not letting him walk away. Not his living right across the street from their roost. But what were they going to do? There was no percentage in trying to take him down. Not while he was the only one standing here with a gun in hand. They had him outnumbered, but somebody was going to die along with him if they pressed the point.

“We’re done,” Chloë’ said.

“And I’m walking?”

She nodded. “No one will harm you.”

Zia was the only one with a weapon in view. Shrugging, she snapped her switchblade closed, then it disappeared back up her sleeve.

“Obliged,” he said to Chloë, tipping a finger against his brow.

He put the .45 away and returned to his car. The skin prickled at the nape of his neck as he walked the short distance, but he knew he could turn his back on them. Whatever else you might say about the crows, they didn’t break their word.

He got in the car and started it up, pulled away. He could still see them in his rearview mirror, standing where he’d left them, watching him go. They’d be looking for him now, but that was okay. He’d work up a different skin, maybe take a note from Annie’s book and dye his hair. Black, he decided. Crow-black.

He only drove as far as the corner, turned right onto Lee, then made an immediate right again onto the lane that ran behind his building. When he parked behind the house, he sat in the car for awhile, thinking. He wasn’t doing so well—two strikes against him so far. First Cody, now this business at the crow’s roost. For Kerry’s sake he’d better not strike out when he had to go up against the cuckoos that’d be coming for her. Because that’d be it. Game-over for both of them.

“What was
that
all about?” Rory said as they watched the red-haired stranger drive away.

Kerry nodded in agreement with him, but no one seemed to be in much of a hurry to explain things to either of them. Brandon had already stepped around the corner of the house, vanishing as quickly as he’d appeared. Annie had her hands on the small of her back, stretching, her gaze still on the end of Stanton Street where Ray’s car had turned out of sight onto Lee. The crow girls were obviously just bored, now that the excitement was over. Chloë stood on the porch with Rory, eyes narrowed, a frown on her brow.

Since she’d been the spokesperson during the confrontation with the stranger, Kerry really expected her to be the one to answer at least some of her most pressing questions. Like, who was Ray? Why did Maida say he was her grandfather? What had Chloë meant when she’d said that Kerry had been under their protection since the day she was born? Who were Cody and Raven? What were cuckoos?

But all Chloë did was turn to Rory and say, “I’d really appreciate it if you would call your friend Lily as soon as you can tomorrow morning.”

Then she stepped back into the house, the screen door banging shut behind her. And that was it. No explanation—not even a hello, Kerry, nice to see you made it here safely, how was the trip.

“Are you okay?” Rory asked.

She nodded as he came down the stairs to join her. He really was the nicest man.

“I didn’t go away,” she found herself saying.

“Nobody was going to let him take you anywhere,” Rory said.

She didn’t bother to correct him. She’d meant she hadn’t withdrawn into herself, curled up into a ball like a hedgehog and pulled the curtain down tight between herself and the world. That was the biggest surprise of the morning, that she could have had an experience such as this and still be standing here, completely functional.

“Can we go now?” Maida asked.

Looking at the crow girl brought back a glimmer of confusion. She and Zia were like kids again, smiling brightly at her, all the darkness fled as suddenly as the knife had up Zia’s sleeve.

“To feed the cousins,” Maida said, holding up the paper bag with the toast inside. “Remember?”

“Can somebody tell me what just happened here?” Kerry said.

Rory shook his head. “Damned if I know.”

“It’s just old business,” Annie told them. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Ray talks a lot, but he’s not dangerous.”

“That gun looked awfully dangerous,” Rory said.

“Guns always look dangerous.”

“Maida said he’s my grandfather,” Kerry said.

Annie shot the crow girl a sharp look, but Maida only shrugged.

“Well, he is,” Zia put in.

“I’ve seen pictures of both my grandfathers,” Kerry said. “That man didn’t look like either one of them. He’s not even old enough to be my grandfather.”

Except, she thought, he had the red hair and dark skin. He was as red-haired and dark-skinned as she was. As Nettie had been.

“It’s a complicated story,” Annie said, “and not really mine to tell.”

“Then who can tell me?”

Annie sighed. “I wouldn’t necessarily be in such a hurry to find it out.”

“Why not?”

For a moment Kerry thought she wasn’t going to answer. Annie looked up into the dark canopy of the oaks above them, her gaze focused on something Kerry thought only she could see.

“Because stories are like mirrors,” Annie said finally. She turned to look at Kerry. “When they’ve gone dark and the glass is obscured, it’s maybe for a reason. Polish them and you might not want to accept the person looking back at you as yourself.” She touched her chest. “We carry those stories inside us— mirrors we can look into, or show to other people. But I don’t want to he your mirror. I don’t want to be responsible for what you see.”

“You never let on that you knew anything about her,” Rory said.

“I didn’t know that I did. It wasn’t until Ray showed up that I realized I knew as much as I did. But it’s not anything I can talk about.” She looked at Kerry. “I’m sorry.”

As she started to turn away, Kerry touched her arm.

“Please,” she said. “I need to know.”

“Then ask Jack.”

“Who’s Jack?”

“He’s kind of a hobo storyteller,” Rory said. “He lives up on the edge of the Tombs in an old school bus.”

Annie nodded. “Jack tells stories—that’s what he does—and your story is one he knows particularly well.”

“But I’ve never even heard of him before. How can he know anything about me?”

“Well, Jack’s like that. Stories stick to him like burrs and who knows where he gets them all from in the first place?”

This wasn’t helping at all. Kerry remembered telling Maida about Lewis Carroll’s Alice earlier this morning and found herself wondering if she hadn’t fallen down her own rabbit hole. None of this made any sense. Nothing had made sense since the moment she’d woken up this morning to find Maida peering down at her. It was too much like she’d stepped into somebody else’s life. Even the way she was dealing with things was alien. It was the way other people seemed to deal with their problems, not the way she ever had.

She took a steadying breath.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll talk to this Jack. Would I find him at this school bus?”

Annie shook her head. “Let Jack find you. He’ll know when the time is right. Meanwhile, why don’t you go feed the little cousins with the girls? Think about other things. Let them teach you how to not let things worn? you so.”

“But we worry, too,” Maida piped up.

Zia nodded. “We worry all the time. We’re excellent worriers.”

“And what do you find so worrying?” Annie asked, smiling at them.

“Just things,” Zia said.

“Important things.”

“Worryful things.”

“Like what if we can’t find something to worry about when we’re in a particularly worrying mood?”

They all had to laugh and suddenly it felt like yesterday afternoon again when Kerry had found everything so refreshingly normal and stress-free.

“The crow girls to the contrary,” Annie said, “worrying does nobody any good.” She laid an arm across Kerry’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “I don’t mean to make this all seem mysterious and awful. It’s just that I really believe we all need to take responsibility for what we say and do, and holding up the mirror of your history to you is not something I can comfortably do. Do you understand?”

“I suppose so …”

“Good.” She stepped back. “Well, enough with all this excitement, already. I was in the middle of recording a demo when Ray showed up and I need to get back to it before I lose the tune completely. You guys go off and have some fun.”

“Sure,” Kerry said.

“You’re not mad?”

Mad angry, or mad crazy? Kerry wanted to ask, but all she said was, “No, it’s okay. I understand.”

“I don’t,” Rory said, but Annie only gave him a playful punch on the shoulder and went back inside, this time using the door instead of the window above the porch that she’d come out of earlier.

Maida held up the bag of toast and gave it a shake.

“Can we go now?” she asked.

But Kerry wasn’t going to be so easily dissuaded. If Chloë was going to ignore her and Annie wouldn’t help, then she planned to keep looking until she found someone who could.

“Can you tell me?” she asked Maida.

The crow girl gave her an utterly guileless look. “Tell you what?”

“Well, for starters, how about why you think Ray’s my grandfather and why you think my mother had red hair.”

Maida’s only response was a shrug, so Kerry turned her attention to Zia. “Can you explain any of this to me? Maida said you’d know.”

Zia shook her head. “Chloë thinks we already talk too much.”

“But we could make something up,” Maida said.

“Oh, good idea,” Zia said. “That’d be ever so very much more interesting.”

“I need to know the truth, not something you’ve made up.”

“But what’s true?” Zia wanted to know. “Sometimes even Jack gets confused. Some of those stories he tells are old and true, but some of them haven’t even happened yet. He just tells them like they have.”

“He can see the future?”

Zia laughed. “You’re so funny. Time’s something you made up—same as property.”

“What are you saying?”

“What are you hearing?”

Kerry sighed and knew she had to give up. For now at least.

Maida plucked at her sleeve and asked, “Can we go for real now? You promised ever so solemnly that we would.”

Agreeing to do something wasn’t quite the same as a solemn promise, at least not so far as Kerry was concerned, but she didn’t have the heart to put a sad look on that sweet earnest face looking so expectantly at her.

“Of course we can,” she said. Turning to Rory, she added, “Do you want to come?”

“Sure, why not? I can tell you about this dream I had last night.”

They walked down to River Park on the far side of Battersfield Road, the crow-girls bounding far ahead like eager puppies, unable—or perhaps simply unwilling—to contain their excitement. Kerry started to feel tired just watching them skip and dance about. She and Rory followed at a slower pace, more suited to the hot, sleepy day it had turned out to be.

Anyone seeing them might think they were a couple, Kerry found herself thinking and that made her blush. Luckily Rory was too busy describing the odd dream he’d had of her last night to notice.

When they got to the park, they found a shaded bench from which they could watch Maida and Zia skip about on the grass, tossing minuscule bits of toast into the air at the birds that came flocking around them. For some reason their antics didn’t disturb the birds at all and the pair soon had a busy cloud above them, darting and swooping about, snapping up the toast. It was a playfully odd sight—two small and exuberant punky-looking girls, surrounded by a crowd of feathery courtiers. Odder still, no one seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to them except for Rory and her.

“Do you believe in magic?” Kerry asked suddenly.

Rory gave her a confused look. “What do you mean by ‘magic’?”

“Well, like Maida and Zia. They’re magic to me. You can almost believe them when they say that they’re crows.”

“They said that?”

“Well, not exactly.” Kerry had to search for the word. “I think Maida said they were corbæ. Annie, too, except she’s a blue jay.”

“I don’t know about that,” Rory said. He spoke slowly, as though choosing his words with care. “But I do know that they’ve looked around fourteen in-all the years I’ve known them.”

“They don’t look fourteen to me. They
act
like they’re fourteen—or even younger.”

“And Maida told you that they were really birds?”

Kerry shook her head. “It was more like they could look like certain birds. Or that they were the”—this time the word came more easily—“corbæ equivalent of certain birds. Crows, blue jays.”

“Of course, this is the crow girls we’re talking about,” Rory said. “Who eat jelly beans for breakfast and claim to live in a tree.”

“But what if they do? What if there really is something magical about them?”

Rory gave her a sharp look. “Something happened to you with them, didn’t it?”

Kerry wasn’t sure how to reply. To explain Maida’s healing touch meant she had to drag out all the old baggage and place it here on the bench between them. She’d lose the chance for it to be the way she’d imagined it could be yesterday—that she could simply invent who she was and that was how everybody would take her. At least it wouldn’t be like that with Rory anymore.