Page 25 of Elora and the Crow

“You don’t need to write it down?” she asked.

He tapped his temple. “It’s in here, and my brain is a vault.”

She laughed. “You couldn’t remember your own brother’s phone number.”

“I didn’t have to. It was in my phone.”

She laughed again, and his annoyance and anxiety melted away. “Be safe, Jonah, okay?”

“I will. I’ll text you later today.”

“Okay,” she said.

He wanted to do something ridiculous like kiss her, but instead, he climbed out of her car and shut the door. He trudged to the front door, each step weighing on him as he got further away from Elora. He punched in the code for the door, a part of him hoping Caleb had changed it and he’d have an excuse to stay with Elora a little longer.

To his disappointment, the light turned green, and the door unlocked. He opened the door before turning to wave at Elora. She returned his wave and drove away. What felt suspiciously like panic flooded his veins. He shook it off and walked into the house. So what if this was one of the few times he’d been away from Elora in the last two years? He wasn’t a crow anymore and couldn’t keep clinging to her. He had a life, and he needed to return to it.

It wasn’t much of a life.

He ignored his inner voice as he stepped into the house. He closed the door behind him, studying the foyer with its high ceiling, crystal chandelier, and white walls. There was no warmth or comfort in this room. It wasn’t like Elora’s apartment, which lacked a foyer and instead opened into a living room that was vibrant, colourful, and alive.

“Caleb?” He shouted his brother’s name, listening to the echo in that grand, cold foyer before he walked the entire bottom floor. It was empty, without any signs of Caleb anywhere. That wasn’t all that unusual. Caleb was as neat as Jonah, and the weekly cleaning service quickly took care of any mess they might have left.

He studied the living room with its high-end leather couch and the 65” television mounted over the gas fireplace. You could fit two of Elora’s living rooms into this room. The matching bookshelves were filled with books and knick-knacks. Both were purely for aesthetics and design. It wasn’t like the sagging bookshelf in Elora’s living room. The one filled with potion books and spell books, and ancient leather-bound books that sometimes screamed when you opened them. Instead of knick-knacks, Elora’s bookshelf had old candle stubs, bits of burned parchment paper with spells written on them, jars filled with strange coloured liquid, and - he grinned to himself - a rat skeleton. Elora’s living room smelled of dried herbs, candle wax, and sulphur.

He inhaled deeply. His living room smelled like nothing at all. The room had about as much personality as a hospital room. Hell, the entire house was devoid of personality.

He headed back to the foyer and up the wide staircase to the second level, his footsteps a hollow echo. If Elora lived here, the house would be filled with magic, candles, and mysterious jars full of dangerous liquids, and he’d need a fire extinguisher in every room. There would be char marks on the ceiling, and wax melted on the hardwood, and her laughter would banish the quiet.

He walked past the library and the guest bedrooms and knocked on Caleb’s bedroom door. “Caleb? Buddy, are you in here?”

When there was no answer, he opened the door. A grin crossed his face, the first one since he’d left Elora, and he studied Caleb’s bedroom as a wave of love washed over him. Here was the warmth and the personality. He studied the posters of Caleb’s favourite musicians that plastered the walls, the multiple guitars on display stands, and the sheet music that covered the small desk in the corner. A television stand ran along one wall with a flat-screen TV, an X-box console, and game controllers on its smooth, shiny surface. He and Caleb had spent more than one night in his room, playing video games while eating take-out and ragging on each other as only brothers did.

Jonah crossed the room to the electric keyboard on a stand in front of the window. He turned it on and pressed a few keys, the sound melancholy in the empty room.

He stuck his head into Caleb’s bathroom, even though he already knew he wouldn’t be in there, and frowned a little at how neat and clean it was. Caleb was tidy and didn’t make a mess, but it looked like the bathroom hadn’t been used in weeks.

Tamping down the disquiet curling around the base of his spine, Jonah left Caleb’s room and walked to his own. He stepped into the bedroom. It was as large and lavishly decorated as the rest of the house and, unlike Caleb’s room, just as cold and sterile. Generic art - expensive but with no real meaning to him and purchased by an interior designer - graced the walls, and his king sized bed was covered in a masculine looking blue and grey quilt. The walls were painted a warm blue in a desperate attempt to give the ample space some warmth, but it didn’t quite get there. Not when there was nothing in the room to provide it with any personality.

A book on his nightstand, an old western he’d been reading before his life was turned upside down, and a picture of him and Caleb were the only signs of Jonah in the entire room. That hadn’t bothered him before. His house had been a place to sleep and eat and, if Caleb was around, spend time with his brother.

He stared out the window into the backyard and sighed with relief. The greenhouse was still there, the windows now cloudy and dirty and the roof covered in a fine layer of snow. Not that he’d thought Caleb would have gotten rid of it, but he couldn’t help feeling a little nervous about it. The small glassed-in house felt more like a home to him than his actual house did.

His father had loved gardening and after Jonah escaped the Academy, he’d been anxious to have a relationship with his father. Spending time in his father’s greenhouse, helping him grow flowers and fruit and vegetables, had been the easiest way to bond with him.

When his father died, Jonah had his own greenhouse built and kept gardening. He’d assumed it was his subconscious way of keeping his father’s memory alive, but at some point over the years, he’d realized that he actually enjoyed it. No, scratch that. He loved it.

Growing the plants from seeds, tending to them, and making sure they received the right amount of sunlight, water, and nutrients didn’t just bring back the few good memories he had of his father. It also soothed something deep inside of him. Something that despised how efficient Jonah was at killing.

See? Elora was right - you’re good for something other than killing.

He snorted and turned away from the window. Growing flowers and food was easy. Anyone could do it. Beyond a love for reading and gardening, Jonah had no other hobbies or interests to occupy his time. Any interests not related to becoming a more efficient killer had been strictly prohibited at the Academy.

He walked to his bathroom and turned on the shower before stripping off his borrowed clothes. He studied himself in the mirror. He was twenty-eight years old and a blank and boring slate. There was nothing of interest about him because he’d spent nearly his entire life as a killer. The only good things in his life were Caleb and Elora, and while Caleb loved him very much, there’d always been a distance between them that Jonah could never quite breach. That was entirely Jonah’s fault, but he had no idea how to fix it. Caleb was a pacifist who knew the monster Jonah was, and Jonah supposed he should count himself lucky that Caleb even had anything to do with him at all.

He stays with you because his parents are dead, and it’s free rent in a giant house, and he’s a struggling musician. You think he’d still be here if he had anyplace else to go? Don’t fool yourself into thinking you mean as much to Caleb as he does to you. How could you? There’s nothing good about you. You’re a monster, Jonah. Don’t ever forget that.

The steam fogged up the bathroom mirror, hiding the self-pity he was sure covered his face. What did it matter if Caleb was using him and cared for him only a little? Jonah would take whatever scrap of affection Caleb gave him. He might not reciprocate Jonah’s love, but Caleb was still the only person in his life who cared even marginally about him, and without him, Jonah would be completely alone.

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