Page 65 of Following Their Heart

Cora frowns at him from under my arms. But she says, “I’ll go back, if Rev wants me to. I’ll even go alone. But please, don’t lock me in.”

It’s her voice that does it. The anger melts from Doc, and he really looks at her for the first time since the arguing began. His shoulders round forward, and he wipes both hands down his face.

“Christ,chér. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just worried about you.” He stands alone and ashamed in the middle of the room.

“Multiply that by six, and you’ll know how I felt down there,” she says coolly. But then she gets up and goes to him. “It’s okay.” Her tone is forgiving as she goes up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

He bends to meet her partway. When he hides his face in her hair, I wonder if he’s whispering to her.

“We’re strongest together,” Rev says evenly. “And when we’re using our Gifts. Understanding our Gifts and using them to the fullest—that’s what’s going to make or break this fight. Clearly, Raptor has a strong Gift of his own, and he used it to great effect. His birds distracted us and blinded us. And there’s another guy on his team that can jam our equipment. If we’re lucky, both of them were in that downed chopper, but if they weren’t, if there are others on their side with strong Gifts, we’ll have our work cut out for us. That’s why I need you all to test your Gifts. Learn as much as you can about them, and fast. Because in a couple days, we roll out.WithCora.

“Now.” He claps his hands together then clasps them with an air of wrapping up the meeting. “There’s a lot to do before we leave. Everyone, get to work.”

Five minutes later, I’m outside with Doc. The dull, whitish eye of a raven stares sightlessly at me as I contemplate Rev’s instructions to us. Doc stands a respectable distance from me, feet spread, hands on his belt. Between us and the side of the lodge is a pile of feathery carcasses stacked five-feet tall and stretching around the entire building.

There are small songbirds of every color, carrion birds, and birds of prey, and they are all tangled together. They have begun rotting. I can smell the souring aroma of spoiling meat, and late-season flies are laying their eggs.

I shake my head. I hate death. These deaths, in particular, were utterly senseless. These poor souls were forced to kill themselves as nothing more than a distraction so Raptor could look for Cora. When he couldn’t find her, he took the one person who dared to venture outside during the chaos. Jud. Most likely, our enemy will try to negotiate a trade. That is what my gut tells me. But I don’t like that line of reasoning. It doesn’t end well for Jud.

Raptor has to know we would never give up a woman for a man, no matter who that man is. If I were Raptor, and were as hard-hearted as this dead mound suggests, I would begin taking away pieces of Jud and sending them to us.Give us the woman, or we will remove more parts.That is how these things go. Or maybe that is just the Ukrainian in me speaking. I have heard horror stories about Russian negotiation tactics. Maybe the person who sentenced all these birds to death is more reasonable than Russian politicians. For Jud’s sake, I hope that is the case.

“Guess we should get to work,” Doc says. His tone is dull, defeated.

“Doing what?” I say. I’m in my usual layers and gloves. There is no part of my skin Doc could come in contact with unless he tries to kiss me, and he is not that kind of man. Neither am I. Apparently, that is more Rev and Scrap’s thing. To each his own. “Should we use shovels, or shall I get the front loader?”

“Neither,” Doc says. “Shovels and front loaders don’t require our Gifts.”

“I still don’t understand what Rev wants from us.”

Doc is the healer. Maybe there are some wounded birds in this mess who Doc can help with his Gift. But why ask me to use my mine?

“I think I might know what he has in mind,” Doc says. He peels off his leather jacket and tosses it over the mound so it lands on the porch. “Take off your gloves.”

“No.” My reaction is automatic. I will never endanger one of my brothers with my Gift.

“Yes,” Doc insists. “Come on. Time’s a wastin’. The sun’s getting warmer. It’s gonna start stinking to high heaven out here unless we get to work.”

“I work with my gloves on.”

“No dice, amigo. Rev said we gotta touch ’em.”

I shake my head no. “I still do not understand.”

Doc sighs and rolls his eyes at me like an annoyed teenager. In that moment he reminds me of my lost Anechka, and my heart aches. “Have a little faith, brother,” he says, and he lifts the stiff body of a crow. The feathers are glossy and black, and the feet stick out like gray twigs.

I wrinkle my nose. “You should not handle them without gloves. They will make you sick.”

“I’m the Doctor. I don’t get sick.”

He has a point. I haven’t heard him referred to as the Doctor in a long time. He, Jud, and Rev started out just the three of them. The Judge, the Reverend, and the Doctor, they called themselves. They found Scrap along the way, and me, Shep, and Brawn came upon this place, each of us attracted to this spot for reasons we can’t explain. But the three of them, they were the original group. Their titles mark them as a close-knit team, the first three of us, the “The’s.” I suppose I should be honored that they sometimes call metheGrim Reaper, including me in their elite group within the group. Although perhaps I flatter myself.

I watch the Doctor close his eyes and hold the bird with reverent concentration.

“What are you doing?”

“Listening,” he says.

“To what?”

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