The Short Life of Sparrows by Emm Cole

Author:Emm Cole [Cole, Emm]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-09-30T14:00:00+00:00

22

ISAIAH

I bring the ax all of the way back, hurling it into the jagged bark again. The blade sticks at the crunch of the wood. I jiggle the handle a bit to pull it free. Flapping birds rush to the neighboring tree branches, dispersing as I make another angled notch in the trunk. The mossy dirt is still glossed in morning dew, and I’m mindful not to lose my balance and slip. As I pause to rest my arm and dry the perspiration on my sleeve, I stop altogether. I don’t have to turn around to know someone’s there—watching me. With a brief glimpse over my shoulder, I take note of Rowe before cutting deeper grooves into the base of the tree.

He just stands there like he’s inspecting my efforts, which I find obnoxious and irritating. “If you came to see Calli,” I call out, “those old coven ladies were already here this morning. Murdoch too. Something about the way the pendulum swayed over her in a certain direction. She should break fever and be fine by tonight, I guess.”

Rowe clears the ten comfortable feet between us. He taps one hand at his leg impatiently as he glances at her windowpane. “Is Lil in there?”

“No, she’s next door—taking a break. Only because Mildred made her. … Why?”

His head cocks at me, which reminds me to focus on my task and disregard him. I don’t owe him anything, especially not when he refuses to abandon his lofty attitude.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he mutters. “People around here never suffer through a fever.”

I prop the blunt side of the ax at my boot, realizing he’s just going to keep talking to me. “Lil doesn’t fancy anyone doing magic in her house. And she says if Calli will be on the mend soon, there’s no need for it.”

He shakes his head and bites at his cheek, visibly aggravated. “Like I said—stupid. And pointless.”

Shrugging, I pick my ax up. “I’m not in charge.”

He reels around, heading for the house. I suddenly feel protective, knowing how exhausted she’s been from tossing and turning. “Don’t go in there and wake her up,” I say, pointing the ax at him. “She’s sleeping.”

Rowe sneers at me, his eyes slits. “You shouldn’t push me. If nobody else has the judgment to do what needs to be done—”

“Rowe.”

“Yeah?”

“Calli is fragile right now. Please don’t mess with her head. Don’t go in there and help her if this is just about you hoping to get into her clothes—”

His cheeks turn up, and he just starts to laugh. “Don’t bathe your question in honey. I’m a man, you idiot. Of course I want to get into her clothes. I’m sure ever since she wore that dress to her Awakening, anybody with working gear wants to.”

What a charmer. There’s crude, and then there’s Rowe.

My face must show that my eggs from breakfast are one more slimy remark away from hitting my throat, because he almost looks regretful. His shoulders give a bit as he squints his left eye.

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