Grim Tidings by Caitlin Kittredge Page B

I’d forgone my shoes and kicking myself that I hadn’t helped myself to Tanner’s gun.
    Lady howled at me again as she rose up, crouched like a mountain lion who’d cornered a deer. The full extent of her injuries was apparent—her abdomen was dark and distended from internalbleeding and there was a heavy boot print on her chest, across her left breast, where someone had held her down.
    Held her down and fed her blood, like a vamp, the hound whispered to me. But poor Lady hadn’t been that lucky. She wasn’t a vamp, pale and sickly as a junkie looking for their next fix, kitten-weak unless they had fresh blood in them.
    I’d seen something like Lady only once before, and even as she screamed, pink foam flecking her lips, I resisted the thought.
    I lit on a jar of dirty instruments sitting in the deep-basin sink in the corner of the room and I lunged for them, but Lady was faster. Faster than me, and a whole lot faster than the ones I’d seen in the camps. She landed on me, slamming me into the sink so hard I felt a rib give and fireworks exploded in my field of vision. I pushed back, throwing her off me. She slipped in some of her own blood, pinwheeling and smacking the light fixture so we were plunged into darkness. Before she could lunge again, the door banged open and I saw a tall figure backlit in the hall. Lady turned on him, her mouth unhinging so wide it tore at the edges, and she screamed loud enough to rattle the light fixtures.
    The shotgun was louder, and the first shell spun Lady halfway around. The second dropped her like a heap of dirty laundry and she stayed perfectly still, like someone had discarded her on the floor.
    Tanner ejected the spent shell, turning to me. “You want to tell me why I just shot a naked dead woman?”
    I prodded my side gently and groaned. My rib was definitely broken. “You tell me. You seem like you’ve done this before.” The spots where the shotgun pellets had hit Lady were curling black smoke, like tiny candles, the flesh around them turning ashy andnecrotic. The smell was somewhere between burning trash and rotten meat. I couldn’t resist reaching out and touching her cheek, just to make sure she was as cold and dead as she’d seemed a minute ago.
    â€œEight times,” Tanner said. “First time she almost got the jump on me. Margaret Taylor.” He leaned against the wall, massaging his forehead. “The Walking Man gets ’em dancing, and I put ’em down. But I don’t know why, and I think you can help me out in that area.”
    â€œYeah, I think you’re wrong there,” I said as my fingers chilled against Lady’s skin. Her jaw lolled open, and one of her feet trembled and twitched. “You seem like you’ve got this under control.”
    Tanner swallowed hard, grimacing at bile as it went back down. “I’m happy I have you fooled.”
    He shut his eyes for a moment and as he did I caught sight of something small and white inside Lady’s mouth, jammed so far back in it was practically down her throat. I pulled out the small piece of bloody paper and uncurled it, my hands shaking.
    Fly to me, little bird.
    I shoved the paper deep into my pocket, then wrapped my arms around myself, protecting my broken rib. Protecting myself from the cold. “Tanner, trust me, this isn’t something you want or need to look any deeper into. This isn’t about you.” The smell from Lady was overpowering, and I felt the sting of the wet, filthy snow on my skin all over again, even though we were indoors, in Kansas, miles and years removed from the camp.
    â€œYou okay?” Tanner said, then shook his head. “Dumb question. I ain’t ever been okay with this and I’ve been doing it practically since I could walk.”
    â€œI need air . . .” I tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come. I clambered up, snatching my shoes and tugging them on as I