Page 27 of Collected By the Crow

He crossed his lower arms and twinkled his upper pair like jazz hands. “No expectations. I am prepared for any challenge you could propose. As you can see, I can hand-le many things at once.”

Cass barked an unexpected laugh. “And you called me strange?”

He shrugged and hmmph’d, the chasm between them diminishing another sliver.

They gravitated to the table in the adjoining game room, where she’d dropped off the box. Qadaire lifted the lid and started to take everything out, and she set it up as he went. After an overview, Qadaire was quick to take his turn. The game wasn’t a brain buster. It took a bare amount of strategy when played competitively, but it was relatively low-stakes. Cassandra preferred it that way, otherwise she would get into her competitive, hyper-focused, energy-draining state that felt uncomfortably close to working. Definitely not the kind of thing she wanted for her down time.

“There’s nothing to this,” Qadaire half-mumbled, half-scolded. “Where’s the challenge?”

“The challenge is in the tiles.”

“So, it’s luck of the draw.”

“Sort of, I guess. There’s some strategy, too.” She glanced up and spied him scowling at the board like it was chess, his bottom elbows digging into his knees while his top left arm smoothed the feathers on his right, which tapped the game piece on the table. She chuckled. “You’re thinking too hard. Just listen to what the little mandala is telling you.”

He frowned and turned his grimace onto the piece in his hand. “They speak?”

“Oh my god.” Cass palmed her forehead and tried to stifled her laughter. She knew without looking up that he was pinning her with the same deeply etched frown as the poor flowery tiles. “You’ve got to get out more, dude.”

He watched her for a long moment, long enough that her silly grin slipped. She was about to apologize for speaking so carelessly when his mouth turned upward. He plopped the piece down and leaned back, his bottom arms crossing, his top gesturing from his head down to his toes.

“Yes, the human townsfolk would love to see this walking about.” He snorted, but she didn’t join in his laughter. “‘Hello, Sally. Good day, Tom. Did you see the total freakshow they’ve pinned up by the wings at the fair? Oy, I did, what a—”

“Hey, now,” Cassandra said softly. She squeezed the game piece in her hand and kept her voice low. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” His tone was raw and cutting, like a pocket knife trying to slice through rough stone.

“Don’t talk about my friend like that. Self-deprecating jokes are cruel. However you feel about yourself, that body has carried you through some incredibly tough times. Your body, that body, has been there for you even when you had no one. For centuries, in your case.” She cradled her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry for not considering that before speaking. If it’s any consolation, I’m actually quite jealous of all your arms. They do seem rather handy.”

Qadaire’s eyes were dark and foreboding as storm clouds. Belatedly, the hint of a smile appeared, clearing some of the rain. She wiggled her brows in encouragement. When he did, she returned her attention to the board.

“How did you get so wise?” Qadaire asked a few tiles later.

She shrugged. It was one thing to help someone out of a negative thought loop, but it was another to discuss the tangles of her own.

“Everyone deserves to be loved without hiding the bits they think aren’t lovable. I didn’t exactly get that when I was growing up. I lied about lots of things, all the time. It was all eggshells in my house. It was exhausting.” She noticed herself swatting her thighs and forced herself to sit still. “My parents were strict. More than strict. The rural church they went to was so twisted, it was more like a cult. We didn’t have anything over a couple grams of sugar in the house. And when they found out I had a partner who was assigned female at birth, they flipped. When I got my first tattoo, they basically kicked me out of the house.”

She paused. Qadaire sat perfectly still and attentive.

“My brother went to Sweden for school. I was alone except for Ali, before I got Zero. I gained a lot of weight in college.” She took a deep breath and exhaled with a chuckle that sounded more like a sigh. “Basically, I spent a long time hating my body and everything it did. It took a huge perspective shift for me to realize I could be smart, beautiful, and curvy.” She felt suddenly shy, not sure why she was having trouble looking at him. “You can be beautiful, too, if you just let yourself.”

Fissures cracked in his granite features, allowing a brief view of the man inside the statue. Then his right wing ruffled and the gravel smoothed back into stone, his gray skin like a sheen of armor.

“I don’t believe you.”

Her jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever not felt beautiful for a second of your life. And if that’s true, then what hope do I have? Because you are the single most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. But me?” He scoffed. “I’m an abomination. Not human. Not vampire. Not crow. A bag of arms wrapped in feathers.”

Her gut seized, despising how easily the nasty words slipped from his kissable gray lips. She lingered on them, recalling the revelation of their softness on her neck, her jaw, her chest, and wondered for the hundredth time how they would feel on her own.

“You’re wrong.” She forced her gaze back to the pain in his dilated pupils. “You are beautiful.”

He froze as though he’d been struck.

“Once again, you astound me.” His head tilted in that bird-like way. He preened the feathers of his upper left arm with the bottom of his chin. “Two more sentiments I haven’t heard in centuries.”

“Add ’em to the list.”

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