“Which is why you need to go and tell that giant chicken how you feel about him.”
“We don’t know that he likes me at all.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve seen the way he acts around you. The fact that he lets you anywhere near his precious chickens. He trusts you. He like you. He’s smitten.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“He spends a lot of time with you, and only you,” Lucy says. “You know why?”
“He’s a loner?”
“He’s smitten,” she insists.
“Lucy.” The whine I hear in my own voice is embarrassing. “I’m scared!” I admit much quieter.
“You wanna see something really scary?” Lucy smiles wide, and maybe it’s my imagination—but were her teeth always that sharp?
She takes two steps through the living room towards me. The room seems somehow darker; she seems a little taller. I instinctively back up. With inhuman speed, she’s directly in front of me. She laughs; the sound is chilling. Like hearing the call of a predatory animal emerge from a dark night.
“I’ll show you just how scary vampires can get if you don’t walk out that door and find Eggward tonight.” Her smile seems sharper, more angular than it did moments before.
I laugh cautiously. I know she’s all talk, she’s just playing a game, she wouldn’t really hurt me.
I don’t think.
“Oh, it’s such a relief!” She announces, stretching her arms wide and cracking her neck disconcertingly loudly. “I can finally act normal again in my own house. Now, I’m going to sit here on this couch, drink my dinner, and grade eight-year-olds math homework. I want you out of this house and I don’t want you coming home before midnight! I’ll see you in the morning preferably!” She’s pulling me now, her grip around my arm like iron as she tugs me toward the door.
“I get it!” I protest lamely, letting her open the door and push me outside into the quickly fading evening light.
She shuts the front door behind me. Leaving me with just the frog-song and a satisfied feeling in my stomach.
I guess I’m doing this.
Chapter Seven
Ihave to walk to Birds of a Feather. The barn is already closed for the night when I get there. It’s not too late but the lights in Eggward’s office are turned off. For a moment I wonder if he’s actually left home for the evening, and then I see every window in my dad’s old house is lit up. Like little golden memories floating through the evening dusk towards me.
I take a deep reassuring breath and then walk toward the brightness calling to me.
The front door has a fresh coat of sage green paint and the knob is unlocked when I test it. My heart is pounding when I take the first step inside in more than a month.
It’s like stepping back into the past, and experiencing something completely new simultaneously. The front room is well-lit. It’s set up like a dining room, with a long dark wood table and six mismatched chairs, the alcove under the stairs has been repurposed into a neat desk area. The floor is refinished, and crude curtains made from a drop cloth hang from the front windows.
Through an expanded doorway the kitchen is in a similar state. The fireplace is cleaned and straightened. There’s nocounter installed but the new cabinets look very appropriate next to appliances with plastic stickers still on the front.
To my left is the door to the living room, with nothing much in it but a cheap used couch shoved against freshly painted soft lilac walls, and there’s a new light fixture hanging in the center of the room.
In its half-fixed state this house still feels more homey than my current living situation. My chest swells with the pain and joy of nostalgia.
“It’s not done yet.” Eggward’s voice appears in my ear and when I whip around he’s walking down the stairs. He’s not wearing his cloak now, his brilliant plumage on display. The light is glancing rainbows off his dark feathers like an oil spill. The hard line of his beak is a perfect contrast to his soft feathers. He looks beautiful.
“I—It—looks really—lovely—great.” The words come out of my mouth all jumbled.
“I was waiting to show you until it was finished.” His clawed feet finally clatter against the wood floor.
“Should I go?” I step toward the door, even though I really don’t want to.
“Stay, please!” His plea comes out almost panicked. He reaches for me, and I find myself pulled toward him without meaning to. “When you went home, I thought maybe—that it was too much for you.”
