House of Vultures by Maggie Claire (read my book TXT) 📕

“She spoke to me andGrouse during your self-imposed break from each other. In the end,she knew that you were trying to protect her. Warbler loved you,Mynah. She admitted as much to me. You were the mother she neverknew, and she regretted saying otherwise.” Bittern gently pushesagainst my arm in an effort to urge me to move. “She had forgivenyou.”

“Then why didn’t she sayanything to me about it?” I wail, pounding my bed with afist.

“She was ashamed of herown actions,” Bittern answers softly. “She didn’t know how to makeamends.”

“Me neither,” I mumble, mytears collecting on my pillow until Bittern pulls me over to herlap. I don’t know how long I sit with my head on Bittern’s knee,bawling as I confront my pain.

“You both were so muchalike. You’d forgiven each other, but neither one of you managed toforgive yourselves.” Bittern taps my nose to make sure she has myattention. “Warbler would not want you to blame yourself anymore.She’d want you to honor her memory, not waste away in thisbed.”

When I finally sit up, I see Condorhovering at my door. “Will you come?” he questions, waiting insilence for my response. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy under hismask.

“Were you crying?” Iexclaim, incredulous at the very idea. “I thought you didn’t careabout anyone in this House.”

Condor’s mouth jerks, but rather thanfight, he simply repeats his question. “Will you come,Mynah?”

“For Warbler,” I mutter,pushing myself out of the bed. I lean heavily on Bittern as we makeour way down the stairs, Condor close behind us.

In the front yard of theHouse, at least a thousand candles flicker. Grouse, Goldeneye, andWren are stationed in a partial circle around the sidewalk. Falcon,I notice, has chosen not to participate in the ceremony.Good. In the backyard, Ican see telltale glow of more candles from the others who claimmembership of our House but live in nearby shelters. Even Pantherhovers on the porch, unsure of his place in thisceremony.

“Tonight, we honor thepassing of one of our own,” Condor announces to the gathering, hisblack feathered mask gleaming with the firelight’s iridescence. Itgives him an otherworldly demeanor, like he is some kind of deathbringing spirit, a harbinger of doom. “Warbler’s life was cut shortby another, a soul too broken and evil to be remembered. Wecelebrate the memories we hold of her in life.” Condor raises asilver dagger hidden in his belt. “And for those who truly knewher, we mourn her loss wholeheartedly.” He slides the tip of theblade along the fleshy pad of his thumb, the blood poolinginstantly. Raising his thumb to his own mask, he draws an X on thefeathered surface. Then he passes the dagger to me.

The sharp edge bites myfinger as I follow the ritual, my mind far away.Warbler would not want this from us. She wouldnever have wanted us to spill our own blood, nor would she wantthis ceremony to occur in the middle of the night. She was theexact opposite of this place. “How didWarbler end up here?” I mumble to myself as I draw the mark on mymask, passing the blade to the next person.

“What do you mean?” Condorstares at me confusedly.

“How did she end up in theHouse of Vultures?” My voice grows stronger as my question gainsmerit in my thoughts. “She was the only one of us who was bright,cheerful, and fun loving. The difference even showed in hercolorful mask. Everyone else here is predominantly drab: whites,grays, browns, blacks. We are neutral, but she was sunlightitself.”

“She came here because sheneeded a place to be, just like you, just like everyone else inthis House, Mynah,” Condor reassures me, his hand reaching towardmine.

“Do not touch me,” I snap,unwilling to believe that Warbler chose this place out of sheerdumb luck.

Condor’s hand falls to his side withan irritated growl. “Mynah, now is not the time or the place forthis.”

“I think it is!” Iscreech, pointing at the silver dagger that has almost made its wayaround our circle completely. “Nothing about this ceremony isreally about Warbler. She would have wanted something different.She would have wanted us to celebrate her life in the middle of theday, with song and dance! She would have—”

“Wren, continue theproceedings,” Condor demands, his fingers curling like claws aroundmy elbows. “You and I are going to have a chat,” he snarls in myear, dragging me inside the House.

Condor practically dragsme up the creaking stairs. A shudder of terror racks my bones whenhe tosses open his bedroom door. I am face to face with his rumpledbedspread. Is Condor just as bad asCreeper? Is hegoing to hurt me? “What are you going to do?” I gulp, my eyes darting aroundthe room for any weapon I might use.

“Nice, Mynah. Good to knowyou think so little of me,” Condor scoffs, insulted by my fear. “Weare going up to the roof. I have a secret entrance through theattic, and we are taking it. I don’t want anyone else to hear ourconversation.” Condor jerks on a rope tied to a plank in theceiling, and when he does, an old metal ladder lowers. “Ladiesfirst,” he motions to me.

Had we not been fighting, I would findthe scene below us beautiful. The way the candles twinklesporadically across the grounds makes it seem like we are in themiddle of a swarm of fireflies, or we have transported ourselves upto stand among the stars. I think even Condor notices, because fora few moments we both stare at the grounds in silence, too absorbedin our own wishful dreams. In this one moment there isharmony.

Then Condor shatters that peace withhis open mouth. “Don’t ever ambush me in front of the entire Houselike that again! Keep publicly challenging me like that, and I willbe forced to punish you publicly again. And despite what you mightbe thinking about me, I do not enjoy it! Now, if you have somethingto get off your chest, I’m listening.”

“Come on, Condor! Youcan’t really believe that the wake ceremony has anything to do withWarbler! She was so upbeat and positive. She would not havewanted—”

“The wake ceremony is notjust about her, but it is also for those that