“You’re covered in branches.”
“And birds. Can’t I be, I dunno… there’s got to be something better than tree.”
“Bird boy and tree, you and me…” Evan said. It took me a second to realize he was even trying to sing. “Um. Were you good at music?”
“I was good at building,” I said. “None of the creative stuff. Those other guys were the artists.”
“Any of them good at singing?”
“Ty’s pretty good at everything,” I said.
“Okay,” Evan said. “I’ll ask him later.”
“Ask him to come up with something better than tree, while you’re at it?”
“Eh,” Evan said, noncommitally.
I shot him a look. He broke apart, becoming a ghost, just to stick out his tongue at me. A moment later, he condensed back into bird form, flapping his way around in a circle before he could find his perch again on the lampshade by the window.
Smiling, I watched what was going on outside.
“Rose is really scared,” Evan said.
“I believe it,” I told him. “Scared is good. The problem is when scared leads to her acting like Molly. We need to do something. Act.”
“We will,” he said. “But we gotta survive first. And, uh, with me being dead and all and you being, um, uh, sorta you? The surviving part is something we should work on.”
“Point,” I said.
It took another minute before the first confirmed Thorburn sighting. Not long after that, they arrived en-masse.
Dad, Mom, Uncle, Aunt Jessica, Aunt Steph, and Aunt Irene, with just about all the kids in tow, minus Paige and Molly.
I wished I’d asked more about Molly’s status.
“Rose!” Evan called out.
The group made their way up the long driveway. Rose answered Evan’s call, coming downstairs. Still wearing grandmother’s clothes, but a different outfit. A blouse with lace around the folded collar, a brooch, and a knee- length skirt, black.
“You smell like mothballs,” Evan chimed in.
“I’ve worn and washed these clothes before,” Rose said. “How can I still smell like mothballs?”
“Here,” Tiff said, walking up behind Rose. “Post it, and a rune, and… a bit of blood.”
“Better already,” Evan said.
Tiff removed the post-it.
This was what I’d missed, being in the drains.
The anger nestled deep inside of me had gone quieter though. Where I might have been inarticulate in anger before, unable to express just how and why that bothered me, even to the point of not fully realizing I was angry, I was able to get a hold on it now.
“Alexis is out back,” Ty said.
“Okay, that’s just not a good idea,” Rose said. “You don’t split up when there’s a horror movie monster after you, and we’ve got at least thirty equivalents in town right now.”
“We’ve had a surplus of horror monsters after us for a while,” Ty said.
“She’s supposed to be smoking in the bathroom with the fan.”
“I think she needed space?” Tiff asked.
“Rule still holds, space is irrelevant. Go get her,” Rose said.
“On it,” Ty answered.
I met Rose’s eyes. Pale, with faint dark circles under her eyes, blond hair tied back until there wasn’t a hair out of place, a white blouse and ivory brooch, her shirt crisp.
I was rumpled, tattered, my skin riddled with dark lines and faint splashes of color. My hair, once blond, was dark with the grime that now impregnated it.
She didn’t say anything. She headed to the door, and as per her earlier request, the others vacated the area. Alexis hurried past, taking the stairs two at a time to get upstairs. Evan roosted on the back of the chair beside Rose.
Rose opened the door.
“Rose. I’d apologize for not calling ahead,” Uncle Paul said, “But-”
“I knew,” Rose interrupted. “We even had time to tidy up.”
That seemed to put him slightly off balance.
Rose was different. Poised.
He seemed a little caught off guard.
“If this is the place after cleaning up, I’m very concerned about what it was like before,” Aunt Steph snarked.
“We had, how should I put it, unwelcome visitors? Something of a break in,” Rose said.
That shut Aunt Steph up.
“A break in?” Uncle Paul asked, skeptical. “I’m more inclined to think you had a party.”
“No,” Rose said. Confident, clearly in control of herself. “It was a break in. I’m guessing you found something in the contract.”
“Several somethings,” our father said.
“Of course. Come in,” she said.
She didn’t wait to see if they’d listen, or wait for a response.
They followed her into the living room.
“You’re wearing grandmother’s clothes?” Callan asked.
“Funny thing,” Rose said. “All the clothes that I had over at mom and dad’s place were, what was it exactly? They just happened to go up in flames?”
“They were packed into the back of the garage for storage, and, unfortunately, the garage flooded earlier this fall.”
Rose spread her hands.
One by one, everyone found seats. Adults took the sofa and chairs first, the younger individuals – Callan, Kathryn, Ellie, Peter, James, Christoff, and Roxanne, all stood, framing their parents.
A show of force.
Evan had apparently gone completely unnoticed as Aunt Jessica sat down. He flapped his wings, fluttering, and she startled, flying out of her chair.
Rose whistled, and Evan flew to her.
I was supposed to feel bothered by that, but I was glad she had that.
“What’s with the bird? And the getup? Why not buy clothes. And act sane? You look weird,” Roxane said.
Roxanne was twelve, her blonde hair normally straight but presently curled, spoiled rotten by Uncle Paul and Aunt Jessica, aware that she was pretty and cute, and fully capable of leveraging that to get what she wanted. She managed to put a lot of bite into very simple criticisms. I imagined she was an unholy terror in whatever grade she was in.
“I’m a little weird these days,” Rose answered.
“I said that badly,” Roxanne said. “You look fucked up. It’s like you’re a crazy bird lady only it’s more fucked because you’re too young to pull it off. Can’t we get the house if she’s crazy?”
“The term is mentally unsound,” Uncle said. “And yes, we could. But we don’t need to.”
“I know false bravado when I see it,” Rose said. “You’re confident, you’re not that confident.”
“And you’re a twenty year old girl with a high school education,” Uncle Paul said. “The house is visibly falling apart. You know the contract terms name you custodian and heir only if you keep things to a certain standard.”
“That’s your plan of attack?” Rose asked. “I thought you’d surprise me.”
“This is preliminary,” Uncle said. “We’re not going to discuss everything we found with you. We would like to give you an idea of what we’d be saying and doing if lawyers were to get involved.”
He dropped the pad of papers on the coffee table. It was thick enough to thud as it landed.