Page 69 of Following Their Heart

“He-heh, just kidding, big guy.” He slaps my back while I scowl at him. “Hey, lighten up. We just raised the dead.”

“That bird was dead?” Of course, I assumed it was dead when I saw it lying on Grim’s hand, but when it flew away, I figured I was mistaken. It was just stunned or something.

“As a doornail,” Doc says. “Let’s do another one!”

He picks up a tiny sparrow. I wince as the head lolls from a clearly broken neck before Doc can settle it in the cup of his palm. “Here.” He holds it out to Grim. “Be very still, and I’ll slip it onto your hand like a spatula.

“The fuck you will.” I jut my arm between the two men like a barricade, and I make Doc back up. I’m very aware that Grim’s bare hand is perilously close to me. “Put that goddamned glove back on.”

“I helped bring…life?” Grim says. I think the guy’s in shock.

Doc laughs. “Yeah, man! We worked together, like Rev said. After last night with our girl, our Gifts are stronger.” He’s beaming from ear to ear.

That gets my attention. “Really?” I say. “That bird was dead?” I sound like a broken record.

“Yes!” Doc says on a laugh. He looks like a maniac smiling like that while holding a tiny dead bird.

“Grim and I did it together. By listening to our Gifts. But it only worked when we were both touching the bird, so you gotta step back, man. Let the professionals do their thing. Sunlight’s a-burnin’.”

I look between him and Grim. They make quite the contrast. Doc is tan and elated, and Grim is pale and frowning. At least he’s no longer staring at his hand. It’s in his pocket now, as if he’s realized how dangerous it is that his glove is tucked in his belt instead of covering his deadly skin.

“I don’t like it,” I say.

“It will be okay.” This comes from Grim. He meets my gaze, completely serious. He knows exactly how dangerous this is. “We will be careful. We must do this to learn our Gifts better.”

“Hey man,” Doc says. “If he kills me, he can just raise me from the dead, too.”

“Don’t joke about it,” Grim snaps.

“He can’t raise you, moron,” I tell Doc. “If it takes both of you to raise the birds, how will he do it alone if he accidentally kills you?”

Doc sobers. “Good point. Sorry. I’m just giddy. I’ve never helped raise the dead before. It’s cool, ya know? Seriously, though. We’ll be careful.”

Cautiously, I take a step back. Folding my arms, I motion for them to go ahead. I want to watch and make sure they don’t take unnecessary risks. Though if you ask me, this whole thing is an unnecessary risk. Bird lives don’t compare to the lives of men.

But as I watch, I’m transfixed. Holding his hand several inches above Grim’s, Doc slides the small bird onto the Ukrainian’s palm. Grim becomes so still I don’t even think he’s breathing. The two make eye contact, then Doc touches the bird with a single, slow-moving finger. Both their faces are masks of concentration.

The upward wing of the bird twitches. Then, in the blink of an eye, the fluffy little thing jumps onto its twig-like feet and zips into the air as if nothing happened.

“You’re welcome!” Doc calls after it. I make a fist in the back of his shirt and tug him back. He’s too close to Grim to have his attention on something in the sky.

Doc shrugs off my grip. “I got it, man. Jesus.”

Grim’s gaze is on his palm again. “I can’t believe it,” he says, as if the first time might have been a fluke, and this time proves it wasn’t.

“Believe it, man,” Doc says. “We’re the dynamic duo.” He shifts his grin to me. “Believe us now?”

I harrumph. It is a pretty neat trick. “Just be careful,” I grumble, and I reluctantly leave them to it. If Doc ends up dead, at least I can say I tried to stop this madness.

About the time Doc and Grim are on their twentieth bird—not that I’m counting…or patrolling extra heavy on their side of the lodge or anything—Scrap comes out and waves to get my attention.

“Hey, man,” he says. He’s holding out an earpiece attached by a thin wire to a blocky receiver with a chrome antenna that reminds me of the earliest cell phones. “Can you help me with something? I have some ideas on the whole ‘Test your Gifts’ thing.” He makes air quotes around the phrase Rev used earlier.

“I’m on patrol,” I say.

“No shit, Sherlock. That’s why I picked you. Here, put this in.” He hands me the earpiece and comes in close to clip the receiver to my belt.

I freeze while he gets it latched on. I don’t even think I’m breathing. For some reason, my heart races, and my face gets hot. I lick my lips, my memory calling up that kiss between him and Rev last night.

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