39- the bitter sting
I open my eyes to a colorful honeycomb grid set against a blue sky.
A puffy cloud in the shape of a penguin reshapes into an elephant.
And then a dog. And then…
Despair.
Rafette brought me here, which means I’m going to die soon. I may already be dying. I should be more upset about this, but whatever Rafette did to my neck has given me the mother of all headaches and a weird tickling all over my skin. I couldn’t run now if I wanted to. Just turning my head is a chore, as if my spine has rusted solid.
I recognize my viewpoint from the underside of the monkey bars dome in the playground of Cadence Elementary School.
The cloud turns into a leering clown face.
I sense someone to my left and spot Rafette. He sits on the ground, knees up, back resting on the metal bars. “You can sit up, if you like.” His shaky voice is gentle. “But do it slowly. You don’t want to make them nervous.”
Make who nervous? I roll to my side and prop myself on an elbow. Then I see them.
Bees. Dozens of them. No, hundreds.
And they are silent. They crawl along my arms and legs. That explains the itching sensation. I feel them now—in my hair, between my fingers, crawling around under my pant legs. A whimper slips from my lips. I make my body go still. I’m afraid to open my mouth, in case a bee should crawl inside. I’m afraid to do anything.
“You have been stung only once.” He touches a fingertip to my right wrist. “Here. But they will deliver more stings if you move suddenly.”
Stung? I convulse at his words. My mind feels intact, but the sting is fresh. All I feel is bone deep weariness and a sickening dip in my stomach. I’ve been stung, like my mother. I can’t even process the sharp, profound sadness rolling through me. It leadens my limbs and fills my eyes with tears. I let out a sob and the bees buzz nervously.
“Relax, please,” Rafette urges. “They can sense your agitation.”
Relax? Is he on crack? There’s no way to be not agitated in this situation. “So I’m doomed, then?” I rasp out. My mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton balls.
“No.” Rafette rests his forearms on his knees. “Your harbinger may choose to save you. He may choose to let the venom destroy you. It’s up to him, really. Personally, I am hoping he chooses to save you. My bees don’t want to sting you. They sense, as do I, that your mind is strong. We don’t like to hurt strong people.”
“He won’t.” My voice is slurred. “You’re wasting your time.”
“I don’t think so.” A bee spirals from Rafette’s mouth and lands on his eyebrow. He closes one eye as it crawls over the lid and down his cheek. “You know, I learned something from what happened with the last harbinger. You sting the loved one before asking them to take the curse. The motivation is so much greater that way.”
I shudder at sudden stabbing pain behind my eyes. My mother had headaches. So it begins: the breakdown of my mind. “You’re sick. Cruel. Hideous. Sadistic. Disgusting.”
“I know,” he says. “Can you now see why I am so eager to be rid of this curse?” He looks…tired. The features of his face shift sluggishly. His shoulders hunch. It’s hard to imagine this creature is exhausted, but he appears to be. “Centuries ago, you would not have called me hideous. I had a beautiful face,” he says. “I was more beautiful than your harbinger. Everything I once was became swallowed up by all this.” He gestures harshly to his face. “If you were me, would you not do anything to end it?”
“Not like this.” But I have no idea what centuries of living like this would do to me. Maybe I would be that desperate, but it doesn’t matter. I’m on the wrong side of this equation.
He sighs again, rubs the back of his neck in a very human gesture. “If your harbinger accepts my queen bee, all those who have been stung will be released from the effects of the venom. You and your friend will be saved.”
Saved? Am I hallucinating? A bee wanders over the curve of my ear. I stifle another whimper. “How is that?”
“I have it on good authority that the magic in the bees dies with me. Anyone stung would be restored to normal.” He closes his eyes—pale green with red lashes—and bares his teeth in a terrible smile. He turns slowly, hearing something behind him. “Ah, it appears your hero has arrived to rescue you.” His faces shift furiously, changing so fast they blur together. The bees on me suddenly beat their tiny wings and let out an angry hum. It’s a terrifying sound. Like imminent agony and inevitable death.
Reece stalks across the playground, all fury and clenched fists. A crow keeps pace above him, flying in agitated circles as if trying to make him turn back. It lets out distressed squawks, plucks at his shirt with those sharp talons. It’s him—Hank. I can just make out his white feather.
Reece waves a hand, brushing off the bird, and pins hot, red-black eyes on my captor. “Rafette.” His voice is menacing.
“So nice to see you, harbinger.” Rafette folds his arms. “You are late.”
“Let her go,” Reece snarls.
“I would be pleased to,” Rafette replies. “But as you can see, you must offer me something in order for her release.”
“And what’s that?”
“You must accept my queen bee into yourself,” Rafette says. “I will be free.”
“You’re delusional if you think that would work,” Reece sneers.
“It will work. One of the ancient Strawmen gave me the secret.” The Beekeeper presses a finger to his temple. “He put it all right in here, without saying a word.”
This sounds like made up nonsense to me, but Reece visibly pales. His entire body deflates. When I first met Reece, I remember glimpses of profound grief. Desolation so deep it made me shudder. It eased as we spent more time together, but I see it now, stripped down and exposed, in the lines of his face, the curve of his body. He hunches with the weight of loss. The burden of every death and horror he’s witnessed. With the truth in the Beekeeper’s words and the magnitude of the choice before him.
I sit straight up, fingers digging into the soggy earth. The bees drone in disapproval. Another stinger sinks into my flesh, making my ankle jerk. “Don’t even think of it, Reece.”
Reece does not look away from the Beekeeper. His lips thin, then turn down at the edges.
“Thank you, harbinger,” Rafette says gently. “After a millennia of this torment, I will finally be allowed to die.”
My heart smashes against my ribs. The bees buzz faster in distress, but I don’t care what they do. I’m already stung. Their venom is moving through my tissues, sending it deeper, to my bones. Soon, to my mind. “Not him!” I beg Rafette. “Don’t do this to him.”
Rafette finally turns to me. He has the nerve to look apologetic. “But it must be him. Only another creature of the lost magic can accept the curse. I’ve waited a very long time to find a harbinger with something to lose.” He turns knowing eyes to Reece. “He wouldn’t walk away now, even if I begged him. Isn’t that right, scavenger?”
Reece stares at the thick red welt on my wrist. He shakes his head.
“Do not become one of them for me,” I say, willing him to listen to me. “I’m not worth losing your soul over.”
Reece’s gaze turns to me, all blazing eyes and determination. “You’re worth all that and more.”
“No!” Tears streak from my eyes. What is wrong with him? “Do not do this. Please.”
“I can’t let you die, Angie.”
“He’s going to kill me with these bees either way,” I shoot back. “He told me so.”
It’s a total lie and I feel zero guilt about it. I will say anything, at this point, to get him to leave.
The Beekeeper raises his brows. “My word is true, and he knows it.” He turns to Reece. “Now, harbinger, shall we get on with it?”