Fuck you and 'no', I want you to tell me. You're going to take someone away from me and I want to know who it is or…"
He grins. "Or what?"
I slump, defeated and next to tears for the first time in years. For this, I hate him. For all his dark promises, I want to kill him right here and now, regardless of the consequences. Anything to make what he has predicted a lie.
A simple day in the park has turned into a tour of hell.
" You can't do this," I croak.
" I'm afraid I can. There is no vendetta against your town, Kieran. This has happened before. Indeed you can read about such things if you look in the right places and although I have not always been the harbinger, the sparrows have been the signature of many a downfall."
" But why my family? They're not evil. They've never harmed anyone!"
" Haven't they?" he asks, his raised eyebrows mocking the certainty I thought I'd had. "There are lots of things you have yet to know. Until you do, you cannot begin to understand the significance of this day."
The tears come freely then, trickling down my cheeks as I weep and grieve for deaths that have yet to come.
"You have to tell me. Who's going to die?"
" I can't."
" You have to!"
" No I don't. I've told you enough already."
" Then I'm going to stop it."
" You can't."
" I'll try."
" You'll fail."
I stare at him then, my eyes silently begging him to tell me it 's all just a sick joke. For that, I could forgive him. For taking away someone I love, never. He continues to stare at the burnished steel surface of the pond, watching the splashes until they stop. Wiping my nose against the back of my hand, I look up.
The sparrows are no longer falling.
"Why?" I mutter, half-expecting the deluge of dead birds to recommence.
Janus stands. "Thirty of them have fallen. Thirty souls will be taken."
I join him in standing, my fingers twitching as I hold my hands out, not knowing what it is that I want to do or say, but desperate to stop him leaving. "Wait!"
He turns his back on me and begins to collect the birds. I notice then that as he shoves them into his coat the pockets stay flat as if empty.
"What if I touch the bird first? You said I'm not wicked, so what happens then?"
He straightens, his knees popping loudly and turns back to face me. "Would you really want to take that chance?"
" Yes," I blurt, not entirely sure if it's the truth.
" Wouldn't you rather see that sister you hate so much getting her just desserts?"
" No."
He smiles that crooked smile and nods. "We'll see."
With that, he turns his attention back to the birds again, whistling tunelessly as he does so. I watch him for a moment, terrified and helpless.
And then I run, as fast as my legs can carry me, no longer able to watch him collecting his weapons.
I burst in the door at home, almost giving my father a heart attack. The glass in his hand spits whiskey onto the table and he curses loudly. "Kieran. What in the name of God are you doing?"
He seems embarrassed that I have caught him drinking but I don 't care about that now. Instead, I take a moment to catch my breath and then tell him in a commanding tone I would never have dreamed to use in other circumstances for fear of punishment: "There'll be a dead bird outside the house in the morning. Whatever you do, don't touch it."
He stares dumbly at me for a second, his blinking slow and I realize he 's drunk. "What are you talking about?"
" Didn't you hear them hitting against the roof? It was raining birds!"
He laughs loudly and waves me away with a calloused hand.
"You have to listen to me, Dad!" I step closer to him.
" I am listening to you but all I'm hearing is some shit about rain and birds that's making me wonder if you've been smoking something you shouldn'ta been."
He fingers the tumbler of whiskey and looks from me into its amber depths, eager to return to his drinking. His guilt is dwindling, being replaced by the impatience so much a part of him these days. I am keeping him from his