Page 36 of The Scald Crow

The mourners smiled and laughed, and even the priest clapped his hands. The crowd mingled, sharing hugs and chatting. Our job—fait accompli.

“Hi, Calla. Do you remember me? I’m Breda. We met at the wake.” Her voice rose in sing-song notes, turning my head away from the O’Donnell clan.

“Of course. I’m sorry for your loss.” A girl with stunning black eyes fringed with snow-white eyelashes thwarted my escape. White hair tumbled over her shoulders, reminding me of winter’s snow. The black crepe jumpsuit exuded elegance, belted with a glimmering strand of black beads. Flowing chiffon sleeves engulfed her slender arms.

“Thank you for the beautiful songs. Uncle Hugh would have loved it.” Her ruby lips rocked a smiley piercing, the bejeweled barbell sparkling in the light.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad we could be here.” I scanned the crowd, looked for Saoirse, and spotted her standing next to a large gray dog and one of Colm’s brothers, a man named Tadgh, looking in the direction Ciarán had gone.

“We’re off to the pub. I hope you’ll join us. My nephew, Connor, the young fella, plays the ukulele. He wants to marry you.” She twirled her finger through her loose tendrils.

“It’s true what they say, then.” Colm towered over Breda, the circles under those shiny blues hinting at deep sadness. With his hair swept back and the black suit enhancing his muscular build, he looked more than dashing. I stared at his polished leather shoes.

Not my fault. I did nothing to cause his father’s death. Foretelling was a psychic ability—a gift, not a curse. My conscience haunted me, nevertheless. All the shrinks in the world could never convince me otherwise.

“What are they saying now, Colm?” I said with more attitude than necessary. What I would give to be somewhere else. Wrapped in his arms, maybe?

“Your voice. I’ve never heard anything quite like it.” He took my hand, drawing his thumb over my knuckles.

I saw rainbows and unicorns.

“I was after inviting Calla to the pub.” Breda looked quizzically at Colm, her lip ring glinting in the sunshine.

I pursed my lips, exhaling slowly. Do you. Be me. I sang myself to sleep each night with those words running through my mind.

“And I hate to say no, but Niall’s my only ride home.” I ran through the possible options: duck and run or face the reality of an impossible situation, and why was Colm O’Donnell still holding my hand? I stabbed him with my best death stare and yanked my hand away. He suffered from the same psychotic issues as I did.

“Oh, too bad… Connor will be so disappointed,” Breda seemed unaware of our interaction. She smiled at a little boy with shiny copper hair, standing beside a bit of a girl who hid behind her mother’s skirt. “We could give Calla a ride, that is, if you’d like to come.” Breda nudged Colm with her elbow.

“Of course, no trouble at all.” He appeared deep in thought.

That was a collision course with a fucking disaster. Duck and run had always been my motto, but that was before.

“I hope we see you again, Calla. Thanks again for the songs. They were grand.” She turned and walked away.

An army of blackbirds dropped from the branches, descending onto the open earth of his father’s grave. The mountains, purple shapes cloaked with mist, walked toward me.

I waited until Breda was safely out of earshot before I leaned in real close, my mind scattering buckshot in all directions. “Sorry for your trouble, sweet cheeks.”

“Daughter of the wind. It’s so like you. I’ve never seen anything... anyone so beautiful.” His outstretched fingers grazed the starry flowers of my crown.

“Excuse me?” That was my bad. I should have escaped when I had the chance. I stepped back from the dangerous man, the ground squelching beneath my white sneakers.

“The flowers. It makes sense you would choose them.” He whispered, his voice barely audible over the chirping birds.

“It does?” I wondered where the conversation was going.

“You’re one of Them, one of the Good People. Of that, I have no doubt. But you’re something more.” He blinked as if seeing something for the first time.

“What are you talking about?” I lifted the hem of my dress and turned away from his intense stare. ‘One of Them.’ Where did he get those ideas? My confidence slipped with every step.

“You don’t know, do you?” He trailed behind me.

“I can assure you I’m not a Faerie, and I’m not good.” I removed the holly crown and placed the starry circlet on the upturned earth.

“You’re aBean-Sidhe.” His penetrating stare burned a hole through my shoulder blades. His accusation should have scared me, but I was used to the name-calling: sticks and stones and whatnot.

I gathered a handful of earth and then opened my fingers, dropping each granule. One year ago, I stood in his place. I had lost everything I loved.Things cannot replace people.For a time, I believed they could. A giggle tickled my throat. “A banshee? Are you for real?”

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