Page 11 of City of Liars

“Get the—you mean ask my grandmother—” She shook her head. “Theo, a DNA test may be simple, but the implications of the results aren’t. They’re like a...like an earthquake. One big impact, and then a heck of a lot of aftershocks, rippling through an entire family. It’s not something you do off the cuff, no matter the circumstances. Getting the ‘evidence’ from my grandmother, as you put it, would be a lot of things. But one thing it wouldn’t be is easy. She’s extremely sensitive about this situation.”

“And you think my family isn’t?” The words came out in a snarl, and Liv flinched. I raked my hands through my hair, bringing my voice under control with an effort. “This ruined my great-grandmother’s life. She fell apart. And the rest of her kids paid the price. The defining story of my family is how the Carters fucked us over. How they manipulated an impoverished immigrant into giving up her child.”

Liv bit her lip. “It wasn’t… They wouldn’t…”

Despite everything, her anguished tone tore at me. I rubbed my chest, trying to dismiss the sting. “You’re so determined they’re innocent? Then prove me wrong. My Grandma Susi’s still alive. She’ll take a DNA test in a hot minute. Talk to your grandmother. Get her to do the same. And then you’ll have all the evidence you need.”

She swallowed hard. “And if I don’t?”

Maybe I should’ve thought before I spoke next. But deep in my head was the voice I’d never been able to get rid of, the one that said See, this is what you get for liking a woman. For waking up with the hope that maybe you could turn a one-night stand into something more. “If you don’t,” I said grimly, “then we have nothing else to say to each other. And I’ll know that I was right. Your family bribed the judges and deep down, you know it, too, or you’d agree to ask your grandmother for the test without thinking twice. Just like I did, because I know my family has nothing to hide.”

She flushed again, this time with fury. Fighting the urge to take the words back, I strode down the hall to her bedroom, got dressed, and walked out.

7

Bird-Men and Beasts - 1927

The girl stood in the middle of the bustling sidewalk, shivering as much from fear as from the cold. It was still snowing, and everything around her looked strange. The bright yellow taxicabs had become humped white beasts, and the fire escapes were covered in a thick blanket, turning them into giant slides that stretched from the tops of the buildings to the bottoms.

“Help,” she tried to say, but no one listened. Miserable, she thrust her thumb into her mouth, seeking comfort. It tasted like dirt and wet wool, but it also tasted like her, so that was all right. Mama had told her not to do this anymore—big girls didn’t suck their thumbs—but the girl didn’t feel very big. The storefronts towered over her, even taller than usual with the snow piled on top of their roofs and awnings, and people brushed by her, jostling her in their hurry, not even bothering to glance down. Maybe, she thought, they couldn’t see her at all. Maybe the snow had made her invisible, the way it hid the stair-steps of the fire escapes.

She peered down at herself, to make sure she was still there. Through the dusting of snow, a rip marred the sleeve of her coat. How had that happened? She chewed on her thumb with worry at the sight. Mama would be angry; the coat was new, and special. She tried to pinch the material together, to make the hole go away, but as soon as she let go, it opened up again, like a dog’s hungry maw. Snow filled the gap, and the girl imagined it coating all of her, until she disappeared beneath its weight. Then, no one would be able to find her.

Panic-stricken, she tried to edge through the crowd, weaving through the tangle of legs that surrounded her. It was so loud here, full of car sounds and yelling and the far-off rumble of the subway. And then, above the hawking of street vendors and the hum of traffic, there came another noise. A caw.

Above her, a shiny black crow perched in one of the snow-laden trees that overhung the sidewalk. Maybe the grownup people couldn’t see the girl, but the bird could; it tilted its head, peering at her as if she might be something delicious to eat, or perhaps a trinket to steal away to its nest, like in all the stories.

The girl’s heart started to pound. Her breath caught in her throat as the bird tilted its head and then spread its wings, plummeting toward the crowd, heading straight for her, maybe to peck out her eyes⁠—

Heedless of the people who surrounded her, the girl began to run. She slipped through the spaces between them, her feet drumming the slick pavement, not daring to look back to see if the crow followed.

And then she smacked into something and fell over on her bottom, right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

Whatever the something was loomed over her, and the girl couldn’t help it: she started to cry, fat tears streaming down her cheeks. But before her bottom could get wet all the way through from the snow, a hand touched her elbow, pulling her to her feet.

“Little girl, are you all right?”

The voice came from in front of her, soft but commanding. A voice that was used to people listening when it spoke. Wary, she lifted her gaze.

There stood a lady in a blue coat and fancy hat. Her face was lined and her chin sharp, but her eyes were kind. “Are you with anyone?” the lady said, her gloved hand gripping the girl’s shoulder. “Where’s your mother? Are you alone?”

The girl knew she wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. She glanced left and right, trying to figure out what to do. There were people everywhere, but none of them belonged to her. They were mirrors of each other: familiar but not, like huge dark bird-men swooping past, the shoulders of their coats and their hats dusted with white. She worried that, like the crow, they would snatch her up in their claws and carry her away.

She was already lost. She didn’t need to be bird-snatched, too.

Desperate, the girl opened her mouth to explain this to the lady. But her mother’s voice whispered in her head, warning her never to speak to someone she didn’t know. She opened her mouth again, then shut it.

The lady made a tsking sound. “Poor lamb. I know a place you can go.”

Bending, she scooped the girl into her arms. The girl thought of struggling, but what would be the point? If the lady didn’t take her away, then maybe the crow or the bird-men would. The thought made her shiver all over with horror.

“You’re so cold, poor lamb.” The lady held her closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you inside and warmed up in no time.”

“Home?” the girl managed, sounding hopeful.

“We’ll sort all that out,” the lady said, her voice soothing. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

A sob bubbled up inside the girl’s chest, and she tucked her head against the lady’s shoulder, to escape the bird-men’s beady eyes. Above her, the crow settled in a tree thick with snow, its skeletal branches bending as the wind wove through them. Together, they watched the girl get smaller and smaller as fate carried her away.