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Birdie regarded me with shining eyes. “I like her,” she said to Kane, before turning back to the crow. “You heard the woman. Now, off you go.” She flicked her fingers, ushering him away.
The crow took off into the air while the remaining crows continued to feast.
I wasn’t sure what the next step was. “So, I guess you’ll call Kane and let him know what the crow delivers?”
Birdie snorted. “Oh, we’re not done yet, honey. Would you like lunch while you’re here? I may not have Kane’s goulash, but I have enough to feed a host.”
“Aren’t you the host?” I asked.
“A military host, hon.”
Kane opened the back door, and I heard a mild buzzing sound as Birdie rolled herself inside. Thanks to the oversized blanket across her lap, I hadn’t even noticed the wheels on the chair until now.
I entered the house behind our hostess. The rustic kitchen had a natural, cozy feel, with a flagstone floor, warm wooden cabinets, and vintage dining furniture.
Birdie motioned to the heart of pine table. “You two sit while I get lunch ready.”
Kane remained standing. “You know I won’t eat if I can’t help.”
“Oh, you’re a stubborn one, aren’t you? Fine. You get the bowls and cutlery.”
She moved around the kitchen with ease. I hadn’t noticed until now that the space was designed with her in mind. The counters and cabinets were lower and the controls for appliances were mounted in the front for easier access.
“You can talk to me while I work, you know. I won’t get distracted and slice off a finger.” She picked up a knife and cut a loaf of bread into thick slices.
“Have you always had an affinity for crows?” I asked.
“They found me first. My mother once told me they’d circle overhead whenever she walked outside with me in my pram. She assumed they’d targeted me as prey. Poor woman didn’t understand their nature. Now they’re my regular companions.”
Kane nudged me. “You should consider some animal companions. You’ve got plenty of space for them.”
“I think I’m all set.” Two ghosts were more than enough.
Birdie observed me. “A dog is often a good fit for a woman living on her own, though I get the sense you’re able to take care of yourself.”
“Dogs don’t like me,” I said. Many animals didn’t like me; they were afraid, but they didn’t know why. Death and darkness had that effect on creatures.
“Why not? My crows didn’t seem to mind you.” She set a platter of bread on the table, along with a plate of olive oil dip.
“Crows are different.” Crows symbolized death and were related to the underworld in many cultures. Naturally, they didn’t mind me.
The old woman’s eyes narrowed as she joined us at the table. “Ah, yes. I thought as much. You’re like my friend Kane.”
“I’m not from hell,” I said.
“But not entirely human either.”
I wondered the same about Birdie.
She motioned to the bread. “Eat.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I dutifully dragged a slice of bread through the olive oil dip and tried not to drip it everywhere.
“I associate crows with Apollo and the Morrigan,” I said. And there was no chance Birdie was either one of those deities in disguise. I would’ve sensed that level of power, plus neither god would condescend to live a small life in Fairhaven and consort with the likes of Kane Sullivan.
Birdie’s smile revealed a set of slightly crooked and tea-stained teeth. No dentures for her. “A student of myths and legends. What else do you know about Apollo?”
“That’s a broad question. He’s the god of music.” That one was easy, given that music had a heavy presence throughout my childhood. “Also healing.”
