Call of the Raven (20 page)

Mary cleared her throat to let her know she
was still there. Snapping out of it, Miss Ison pulled down the
tee-shirt and inspected the long red scratches, and what appeared
to be teeth marks on her shoulder.

“I can’t believe he clawed me like a girl.
What a wimp,” she sniffed. “The good side of that is your mamma’s
boyfriend might not have anything to worry about after all.”

She stood and limped toward the kitchen,
tossing the sliver of glass into a waste can by the door as she
passed by. “I didn’t have a chance to eat my dinner, but of course
that is ruined now thanks to Julio’s little outburst. I think I
have some boloney and cheese left in the fridge though, if you want
to join me?”

Mary’s stomach lurched at the mention of
food. She had eaten a chocolate Moon pie for dinner and a handful
of dry Cheerio’s, the last few choices in the cupboard. A sandwich
of any kind sounded good to her, even if she didn’t really like
baloney.

Conflicted Mary looked toward the door. She
didn’t want to leave mother too long, especially since she had left
the front door unlocked, but then again, why should she care. It
wasn’t like mom cared about her anymore. Mary listened as Miss Ison
slammed a few cabinets shut in the kitchen. Mary knew she was
upset. Her thug of a boyfriend had really hurt her this time.

“Oh come on in, have something to eat with
me,” she called to her. “And while you’re at it, you can tell me
about that guy at the library today, and hopefully when you’re
through, I won’t feel so bad about getting fired.”

Without even realizing it, Mary had moved to
the entrance of the kitchen. The woman she only knew as Miss Ison
was standing at the counter pulling a loaf of bread from a cabinet.
Wherever she walked, she left a bloody toe print on the dingy white
tile. There were bruises in an assortment of colors ranging from
black to brown to yellow on the backs of her thighs and calves. On
her bicep, there was the red imprint of a hand. Suddenly, Mary’s
heart felt sad. Miss Ison didn’t look very old and even though she
didn’t truly know her, Mary knew she didn’t deserve to be treated
so unkindly.

No one deserved to be treated so
unkindly.

On the tabletop, next to a paper plate, was a
book much like the one that she had read earlier that day to the
kids in the ‘I Read’ book club. Miss Ison liked to read at home on
the fire escape during the warmer nights when her boyfriend wasn’t
home. One night he had showed up unexpectedly, and Miss Ison had
left the book she was reading behind and Mary had taken it.

For the last year, ever since Mary had first
shifted, she had been both frightened and ashamed. She knew no
others like herself until she read about them in the pages of a
book. And for that, Mary had subconsciously reached out to Miss
Ison. The last thing Mary wanted was for Miss Ison to lose her job
on the account of her. When Miss Ison turned around and looked at
her, she met her gaze.

“I don’t know that man, Miss Ison, and I’m
sorry if I got you fired.”

Miss Ison nodded. “Don’t worry about the job,
it wasn’t your fault. I just said that to get you to talk. Did you
tell your mom about what happened?”

“I tried to but she’s…” Mary trailed off. She
didn’t want to talk bad about her mom.

“I see,” Miss Ison sadly smiled, “then maybe
you should tell me what happened, you know, just in case he comes
back again.” She set the bread and the baloney down in the center
of the table, and then gestured to the seat opposite. “Have a seat,
and by the way,” Miss Ison said, “my name is Elle like the
magazine.”

“You mean like the letter
L
?” Mary
asked.

“Yes, like the letter
L
.”

Chapter Twelve

Restitution

Climbing higher the
grey raced for the
ridge above, each step, each stride taking him closer and closer to
the round orb suspended above him in the sky. Once there he stopped
as white puffs of breath exploded from his partially opened snout.
Tilting his head upwards, the grey howled. His lonely cries echoed
throughout the valley and as his eyes fell sadly on the dwelling
below, he noticed the shadow of a man standing in the garden.

Yes, he knew what it was, a garden that once
filled the night with the scent of roses and honeysuckle.
Instinctively, he squatted down, but then something strange
happened. The man changed shapes and suddenly took the form of a
wolf. He recalled him then, the black with the glaring orange eyes.
He couldn’t remember how he knew him anymore then he could remember
how he knew about the garden.

The black started for the ridge slowly at
first then began to run at a much faster lope. He remained his
ground as the black disappeared into the trees below, and even
seconds later when he heard a low growl behind him. Turning around
he saw the orange eyes first as the black emerged through the
trees. The black wondered if he could trust him. Lowering his head
submissively to the ground, the grey waited.

Shifting back Asher stood panting, eyes fixed
on the grey wolf. He took a deep breath but he couldn’t detect
anything in his human form either. Dropping down to his knees,
Asher reached up and removed the hood of his parka so the wolf
could get a better look. Maybe if he could just see him.

As guilt, anger and fear washed over him,
Asher began to cry. He felt the cold brittle wind as his icy tears
spilled down his face, but he could not stop them from coming. He
looked up at the wolf, begging to be seen.

“Grant!” he screamed just as he had in the
church “Please tell me what I’m supposed to do!” With his words
echoing on the quiet night, Asher knew that he had startled the
wolf. It was standing up now acting as though it would dart past
him toward the woods or jump off the ridge in fear of him.

“Please don’t go. I know it’s you. I was
afraid, that’s why I didn’t go after you that night. I don’t know
what I’m supposed to do to bring you back. I don’t know what anyone
wants from me. I tried to tell you that I wasn’t ready.” The more
he talked the more the wolf relaxed.

Lowering down again, the wolf began to crawl
forward on its belly. Little by little the wolf scooted near him
until its snout was just inches from his face. Asher leaned
forward. He felt its cold nose as it brushed against his neck and
its warm breath against his hair. Suddenly the wolf pulled back so
he could search his face. When his gaze made contact with Asher’s,
a sharp pain stabbed through his eyes.

The pain was intense and caused him to fall
forward and press his face into the iciness of the snow. The night
Grant had gone to meet his fate, the very night the mysterious
rings had appeared in his eyes; Asher had felt the same intense
burning as he lay in his bed crying.

“You’ll be all right Asher. The pain will
soon pass,” a voice said. Asher cried out as he sat back on his
haunches. Wiping the snow from his face, he looked up at the man
standing before him with the moonlight glistening upon his smiling
face. Dropping down before him, Grant Lake reached out and pulled
Asher into his embrace. “Don’t be frightened. It really is me.”

Asher relaxed against him taking in the smell
of leather and the familiar scent of his aftershave, both acting as
assurances that he was real and right in front of him. Everything
about Grant was the same as the day he left. Not one day had he
aged.

“I knew it was you,” Asher said

“You’re no longer the puny boy I remember,”
Grant said. “You’re a man now.”

“I came for you Grant every year since you
were called just like you told me to, but you never came.”

“I was never far.” Grant pushed him back and
touched his eyelid. “The rings are part of the spell, it binds us
together.”

“Then I’ve failed you.” Asher lowered his
head guiltily from Grant.

Sighing, Grant put a hand on Asher’s shoulder
and he cringed as Grant gave his neck muscle a firm squeeze. Many
times when he was growing up under Grant’s supervision, he had done
the same and usually it was when Grant was trying to get him to see
something from his point of view.

“You’ve been stubborn and selfish,” he said,
“only concentrating on your own pain and I could do nothing. Your
magic was too strong for me to penetrate except for in your dreams.
In order for you to hear me our wolf natures had to be in touch.
That said, there’s no point blaming yourself Asher, time is as it
should be. It’s taken this long for things to line up with your
destiny. I knew the night I cast the spell that it would be a long
wait. Everything else you need is right in front of you and has
been all along. Asher…”

Grant stopped him just as he opened his
mouth. There were so many more questions Asher wanted—needed to ask
but he could feel it, Grant slipping away. “My wolf form doesn’t
remember anymore who I am and I can’t stay like this too long. Each
day the spell holds me I’m lost even more to the wolf. Eventually,
I will lose all memory of who you were to me…who all of you were to
me. You have to right your wrongs. It’s time for restitution.”

Grant stepped away from him and again he
smiled.” Don’t forget this time Asher. You’re time has come. And if
you really want to help me, then you need to call the Raven or
nothing will ever end.”

“The last few pages—Grant!” Asher jumped to
his feet just as the last traces of him dissipated into the cold
night air. “Don’t leave me to do this alone.” Asher walked over to
the edge of the ridge. Below the grey ran across the snow covered
valley. “I’m not like you. I don’t know how to…love.”

***

Ari lay in
the back seat of the truck,
eyes staring upward. Above him the lights of oncoming vehicles
flashed across the ceiling and Kennedy’s soft breathing let him
know that she was sleeping in the front seat. The dream seemed so
real it left him feeling confused. Turning over he tried for a more
comfortable position on the seat but he knew it was a lost
cause.

“You ok back there buddy?” Nixon yawned. “I
heard you doing a lot of moaning. Hopefully you weren’t dreaming
about Trisha.”

Ari sat up and rubbed his tired eyes. He saw
that they were heading into downtown Indianapolis. He had called
the last known residence in Illinois of Grant’s ex-girlfriend, but
relatives said she had moved back to the city a long time ago.

“We’ll be at the Plaza soon,” Ari said.
“Maybe we can have some coffee and breakfast sent up. I’m
starving.” He pressed his temple against the cold glass and saw
Nixon look at him in the rearview. The flash of his eyes turning a
yellowish color told him that he was looking at him with his owl
eyes. “It’s good to know that you use those scopers for something
other than girls,” he said.

“You’re worrying about Asher aren’t you?”
Nixon asked.

“Why do you ask that?”

“You said his name, and that was about the
time I definitely knew you weren’t dreaming about Trisha.”

“I had a strange dream. It was almost as
though I was seeing him through Grant’s eyes. I was standing on a
cliff and looking down on him and Asher was crying.”

“Boy, you really were dreaming,” Nixon
laughed.

“It seemed so real, like my mind was somehow
linked with Grant. The sight of him crying like that—”

Kennedy suddenly turned his way, her eyes
glowing cat-like in the light of the semi following closely behind
the four-wheel drive.

“You were dreaming about Grant, just now?”
she asked.

“I just said that.”

Ever since their discussion about the thing
he had seen in the studio window, Kennedy had been trying to talk
to him, but Ari didn’t want to listen to her. Deep inside he hoped
that Grant was alive, but to believe it was another thing.

“My necklace,” she said. “It was doing it
again.”

She held up the glowing jewel as though to
make a point.

“Guys,” Nixon interrupted, “now’s probably
not the time to go starting up another argument.” He looked in the
rearview. “Either of you notice how that truck is riding my
tail?”

Ari turned around in the seat and the lights
were bright enough they momentarily blinded him. Nixon sped up, but
the truck matched his speed.

“Get over Nixon, no one’s coming.” Ari
watched as the truck followed them over to the next lane, and then
got even closer to their bumper than before.

“Nixon, did you do something to tick him
off?” Kennedy asked.

“No! Why would you even think that? Why are
you always so quick to lay the blame on me?”

“Stop you two,” Ari commanded. Cautiously, he
put the seat belt around his waist. When the buckle clicked in
place, Kennedy noticed.

“Nixon, do you have your seat belt on?” she
asked. When she saw that he didn’t, she leaned across him and put
it in place. The truck swayed to the right as she got in his line
of vision. Finally sitting back, Kennedy followed suit. “What are
we in for Ari?”

Ari shook his head thinking it best he didn’t
answer her. He gave Nixon directions instead.

“There’s a police station on the corner
right?” Nixon asked.

Ari nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s
gonna matter much. They just want us to know they’re there.”

Nixon drove the truck up over the curb in
front of the police station, and behind them the semi slowed and
came to a stop in the middle of the road. Ari wasn’t a big movie
watcher, but he did however see the movie
Joyride
about the
crazy nut case truck driver, who pursued and tormented two brothers
over a practical joke concerning a CB radio.

Wincing at the thought, with his heart
pounding, Ari opened the truck door against Kennedy’s protest and
stepped out onto the curb. The driver of the semi revved the engine
and Ari took in a lung full of diesel exhaust. Nixon joined him and
together they walked toward the vehicle. Just a few steps off the
curb, the door of the semi opened so Ari stopped in anticipation of
what would come next. At his side Nixon tensely breathed. Instead
of an irate truck driver climbing out to greet them with a ball
bat, a flock of blackbirds flew out and headed straight for them.
Not knowing what else to do, Ari turned tail and raced back to
Grant’s truck. With Nixon on his heels, he jumped in the front seat
and Nixon got in the back. Slamming and locking the doors they both
let out a shiver at the exact same time.