Chapter 8 The Present #2
And Nathaniel… Nathaniel was the one always just out of reach. Controlled. Deliberate. With moments where the mask slipped and I caught something dark and molten underneath.
Never in a million years did I think the three of them would find a way to... overlap.
Never in a million years did I think I’d take that seriously.
Like a girl who actually has something to offer.
A life to live.
I huff out a breath.
I should say something. More than that, I should actually go inside this hospital and say something to all of them. It’s only fair.
But just as I’m about to open my mouth, a loud, obnoxious croak splits the air above us.
I glance up, hand shielding my eyes from the glare. A black silhouette arcs overhead. There are a couple crows circling once before disappearing toward the treeline.
Talon follows my gaze, his expression souring.
“Ah, fuck. Not this again…” He pushes off the rail and takes a few steps back, still watching the sky. “It always starts like this. Then before you can blink, there’s a horde of them.”
He turns away, arm flinging, and just like that, the moment’s gone.
Sure enough, on the far side of the hospital roofline, another crow swoops in. Then two more.
“Those fuckers,” Talon mutters. He jogs down the stairs toward an overgrown bush beside the railing. “I spent the whole morning chasing them off, and they’re already back.”
I watch as he bends into the bush and comes up with a small slingshot, the rubber band stretched tight.
The hell…?
He catches my look and lifts a brow.
“I ain’t gonna shoot the damn birds with real bullets. I just need to scare them.”
Ah. So he has mercy for animals. Fair enough. Animals are better than murderers anyway.
Talon plucks a few pebbles from the cracked concrete and slips one into the sling.
The first crow lands on the roof’s edge and croaks loudly, like it knows what Talon’s about to do and wants to taunt him for it.
“Yeah, keep looking at me like that,” he mutters, pulling back the band and letting it snap.
The pebble whistles through the air. The crow hops sideways, utterly unbothered, and croaks again.
Then another joins it. Then a third. Then… too many to count.
My weird feeling returns… I know it now without a doubt. Whatever this is, it ties back to Pain’s words from before.
I have enemies out there. And I’m not talking about the wraiths.
I step off the railing. “Talon—”
“I know,” he says without looking up, firing again. The pebble pings off the gutter. “But I’ve done this all day. They’ll scatter. Just need to keep at it.”
Except they don’t scatter.
More wingbeats cut through the air, flocks spilling out from the trees, their shapes blotting out pieces of the pale sky. They wheel overhead, a dark vortex, each croak threading into the next until the sound becomes one pulsing, ugly rhythm.
I’d spent plenty of time around ravens and crows before. The ones that loved to sit on the willow tree always seemed like small annoying allies that just liked to breathe down my back from time to time.
These ones aren’t like them.
Talon swears under his breath. “Persistent little shits.”
I don’t know how much longer this lasts. Him, me, the sound of the slingshot snapping, the sharp ping of pebbles hitting metal and stone.
But the crows don’t flinch.
They get closer.
The first drops from the roofline, wings spread wide, swooping low enough that I feel the rush of air against my hair. Another dives past Talon’s shoulder, its black eye cutting straight to me before it pulls up again.
A third comes lower still, so low I actually have to duck.
“Are they… are they aiming for me?” I hiss, moving toward Talon.
“Wait, wha—” he starts, but then one is aiming for me, claws extended, beak snapping.
I yelp and throw an arm up, but before it can land, Talon spins and swats at it with the slingshot itself, sending it veering away.
“Alright, yeah, they’re aiming for you,” he pants. “What the fuck?”
“Watch out!”
Talon pivots just in time as another crow dives for my head, wings beating like a drumroll in my ears.
He swings the slingshot like a club, catching it mid-arc.
The bird spirals with an outraged croak but doesn’t fall—just steadies itself and circles back with two others, tighter this time, more coordinated.
Then the air turns into a storm.
Black feathers. Sharp beaks. An actual attack.
I back toward the building, but every step just gives them more angles. My heart’s thudding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips.
Never thought I’d be scared of a bunch of birds, but this looks like a real death omen or something—and I know I shouldn’t say that. I’m still a Grim Reaper, for fuck’s sake.
One swoops close enough that its claws scrape my blouse.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shout over the noise.
“Get inside, Skye!” Talon yells, snapping the sling at another. The pebble hits square, but instead of retreating, the bird lets out a guttural cry, and the whole flock ripples in response.
I glance up and freeze.
Every beady black eye is pinned on me.
My breath catches.
One drops low, and I swear its pupils dilate when it locks onto me. Another mirrors the dive. Then another. I’m backing up the stairs now, blouse half-pulled over my head like it could actually save my scalp.
“Inside, Skye! Now!”
I try, but another one hits—not a claw, not a beak. Wings.
They slam into my face hard enough to make my vision stutter. Before I can blink it away, a second bird rakes its claw across my cheek.
Pain flares, hot and stinging. I stumble against the railing. Talon’s there instantly, batting one away with the slingshot like it’s a baseball bat, but the rest surge closer.
“Go!” he barks, shoving me toward the doors while he swings again. Before I know it, he drops the slingshot completely and starts swinging his hands. I’m trying to do the same, turning and twisting and doing everything to protect myself. But eventually it gets so bad that I see nothing.
I must turn a few times because I lose track of where the doors even are.
Something crashes behind me. The slingshot? The bush breaking? I don’t know. And then a voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and furious:
“MOVE!”
Cassian.
I catch a glimpse of him barreling out of the hospital entrance. His shoulders are hunched, eyes narrowed, one arm already coming up to shield his head as a crow dives for him.
He doesn’t hesitate. He plows into the swarm between me and the door, swinging something heavy and metal—looks like the leg of a dismantled hospital bed—like he means to break the sky in half.
The blow connects with a wet, awful thunk, and a bird goes tumbling, but another replaces it instantly. Cassian doesn’t slow down. He shoves Talon aside, grabs my arm hard enough to ground me, and drags me toward the doorway.
“Inside—”
“They’re attacking,” I gasp.
“I’ll handle it,” he snaps, shoving me through the threshold. “Go!”
Cassian swings the metal bar at one bird and catches another with his forearm, gritting his teeth as claws rake his skin. Before I can think about whether he’s bleeding, a bruising grip clamps onto my other arm.
Nathaniel.
“You heard them,” he says, voice low and commanding.
“I’m—” I start, but he doesn’t wait. In one sharp motion, he yanks me past Cassian, past the threshold, and past the point where I can see Talon still swinging at the swarm.
He doesn’t stop until we’re halfway down the corridor. Then he turns, pressing me gently but firmly against the wall. His hand stays on my arm, fingers warm through the blouse fabric.
“You are not stepping outside again until I say so.”
I open my mouth, half to argue, half to ask what the hell just happened, but his gaze holds me in place. It’s like a pin through a butterfly.
He leans in, close enough that his breath brushes my cheek.
“They weren’t attacking us,” he says quietly. “They were coming for you.”
Then he lets go, stepping back as if the conversation’s over.
For a moment, it is.
But only for a moment.