Reaper: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 2) (16 page)

“I’m opening a catering company.” I explained. “I’ve always done a bit of catering work, but the shop took up the majority of my time, and now I don’t have a shop any more until I can afford to fix it, and I foolishly forgot to plant a money tree, so I’m going to try and build up some catering jobs, instead. I thought I’d take some food parcels around to all the function venues in Loamshire, see if they’ll consider promoting me to their clients.”

“It sounds like a good idea,” Libby stepped into the room and eyed the tray of stuffed peppers I’d prepared. “Do you mind if I try one?”

“Sure, go ahead. I made plenty.” I turned back to the stove top to check on the spicy peanut sauce for the meatballs. Everything was nearly ready to go. If Simon was available, I’d be able to drive these around tomorrow, and—

“Holy shit,” Libby exclaimed so loud I dropped the spoon I’d been stirring with.
Great, now I have to wash it.

“What?” I whirled around. “Are you OK? Did you burn yourself?”

Libby was cradling a half-eaten salmon puff in her hands as though it were a precious gem. “This is amazing. It is literally the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, apart from possibly the stuffed pepper I put in it only a moment before.”

“Thanks.”

“You
have
to cater my wedding.”

“Your wedding? But … that’s only two weeks away. Don’t you already have caterers?”

“Of course, but not like this.” Libby jabbed her finger at the puff. “This is what I want to eat on my perfect wedding day, not the prissy French cuisine my stepmother booked. And when my stepmother’s friends get wind of you, you will be booked solid for months, although whether you wanted to work for that brigade of sour-faced old biddies is entirely your own business. I’ll fire the French caterers, and you can do it instead. What do you say?”

I looked over at Libby’s earnest face. She wanted
me
to cater to her four hundred extremely distinguished and partially undead wedding guests? Was my first big catering job really going to be the wedding of a notorious vampire?

The old Belinda would never have agreed to such a crazy proposition. But this new Belinda … this one who heard the voice of a departed raven in her head … she was a real loose cannon. “Sure, Libby. I’d love to.”

She clapped her hands in excitement. “Awesome. OK, I’ll let you finish up those baskets, and then we need to talk about the menu. My stepmother is extremely finicky, and of course all her friends are on no-gluten, no-sodium, no-carb diets. And my Thomas won’t touch pork—”

As she prattled on, I felt my heart sinking down to my shoes. What had I got myself into?

A
s soon as
the sun started to stream through the windows, I knew we have to move. The library opened at 8am sharp, and I figured those librarians as early risers, so they could be on their way right now to date-stamp books or film a dirty movie or whatever it was that librarians did first thing in the morning.

I reached over and shook Byron awake. “Mmmmph.” He buried his head into the pillow, and didn’t move.

“Get up. We should leave.”

“
You
should leave. I’m comfortable.”

I yanked the cushion out from under his head. His body rolled and crashed on to the hard floor. “Hey!”

“Come on,” I was already on my way to the kitchen. “You said last night there was some coffee in here.”

“Fuck you, Cole.”

In the tiny kitchenette, I found the coffee on the bench. There was milk in the fridge, and sugar in an
Libby in Wonderland
bowl beside the microwave. There was even a loaf of bread and some jam on the top shelf. While I boiled the kettle and buttered bread, Byron moaned from the other room. It had been so many days since I’d last slept in the roost, I’d almost forgotten what a prick he could be in the mornings.

When I came out carrying our breakfast, he was lying face down in the pile of cushions, his arms and legs splayed out like a starfish. “I’m so sore,” he mumbled into the floor. “My whole body aches. Why did you make me fly so far?”

“Cheer up, big brother,” I sat down next to him and shoved the coffee under his nose. “If we can find Ingrid, you might be free to sleep in as late as you like before you know it.”

“For now I’d settle for not feeling as though I’ve been run over by a bus.” He sat up a little and sipped his coffee. “That’s disgusting.”

“This is a library, not a Starbucks. I’ve made you some jammy bread, too.” Byron pulled himself up and I shoved his bread slices into his hand. I sat down next to his and we ate in hungry, naked silence. All I’d had to eat yesterday was half a bowl of chips. Bread and jam had never tasted so good.

“That was surprisingly delicious,” Byron wiped his jammy hands on the cushions, and stood up, stretching his hands over his head. I averted my eyes so Byron couldn’t accuse me of staring at him in envy. “It’s amazing what starving yourself can do for one’s appetite.”

“Tonight, I promise we’ll break into a restaurant, or a bakery.”

“I’d even settle for a horrible petrol station pie. It’s a pity your girlfriend couldn’t have given us a picnic basket to go.”

At the mention of Belinda, I stiffened. Byron saw my face. “Don’t look like that, Cole. We’ll be back to her before you know it.”

“Yeah.” I glanced out of the window again. A car turned off the road and pulled up to a space near the library doors. Our first librarian had arrived. “Shit, let’s go.”

As I forced my own shift back to my raven form, I watched Byron change, his face shrinking back into itself, the top of his head flattening out as his bones cracked and changed, forming his curved beak and thick, strong legs. It was strange, like watching myself in a mirror. When we were both back to bird form, we hopped into the entrance alcove and hid behind a potted plant while the librarian fiddled with the alarm.

“That’s odd,” she murmured, as she opened the door and pressed several buttons on the unworking keypad. “I definitely set this last night.”

We scampered out just as she walked into the main room and took in the mussed cushions, the dirty coffee cups on the counter, and the crisp crumbs all over the floor. “What the—”

I soared up into the sky, relishing the wind whipping through my feathers. I looked back and saw Byron struggling along behind me, grimacing as his ring bit into his wing, causing him to list to the right.

“Come on, we’re not far away!” I called out to him in caw-tongue.

“Shut the fuck up.”

I could ignore the pain, as I’d had several days to get used to it. And knowing that I only had to endure it a little longer had filled me with a new-found lightness, a sense of purpose I’d never felt before. I dipped and dived, pulling my wings in tight and spinning down into a barrel roll, laughing as the wind zoomed past my face. I hadn’t had this much fun flying in a long time.

If only I could be free, it was actually pretty awesome to be a Bran.

Byron wasn’t doing as well. As the day wore on, he flew lower and lower, his ring digging deeper into his skin. At one point, his wing collapsed completely and he dropped out of the sky, toppling arse over tit down towards the village below.

Fuck.
I dived after him, but he had no control, and couldn’t slow his descent. He crashed into a tree. I dived in after him. Byron? I called, moving through the branches, searching

Caw ...
He croaked out aloud. I found him in one of the lower branches, his feet hanging in the air and his head and wings jammed in the fork of a branch. He’d managed to land in a tree overlooking a school cricket field. The kids on the pitch were all pointing at him. I grabbed his feet in my beak and tugged him free.

“I hate this,” Byron fumed at me as he hopped along the branch, pecking at the ring. The boys below laughed harder. He glowered at them, but the glower of a raven doesn’t do much to deter a schoolboy. A few moments later, a large pebble sailed past my face.

“Let’s get out of here.”
I flapped my wings and lifted off again.

Byron looked miserable as he struggled alongside me. “I hate feeling like this. I am so weak.”

“We’re nearly there. If Ingrid can help us, you’ll never have to feel like this again.”

“And if she can’t?”

“Then we’ll go back and force Morchard to free you. I’m sure we’ll find a way to persuade him.”

“I like the sound of that,”
Byron moaned. “I’m feeling pretty violent right now.”

* * *

A
fter four hours
of solid flying, Byron was in a sorry state. We’d slowed our pace down so dramatically, I probably could have walked faster, and that was even accounting for the fact I would have been walking naked and would have the police and a long line of desperate housewives slowing me down.

“Cole,”
Byron puffed, his breath coming out in a sharp wheeze. “I can’t … fly … anymore …”

I could see he wasn’t lying. Every breath he took came out as a ragged wheeze, and he could barely keep his wings open. We were so close, but I knew we’d have to stop somewhere for the night before we continued on. That was another night before we would both be free, but better to wait in agony then to be dead.

“Make it to that forest just ahead.” I pointed with my wing. “We’ll camp there for the night.” I figured once it was dark I could break in somewhere and bring us back some food.

“T-t-thanks.”

My own ring tugged on me as well, and my wing muscles ached from the long flight. It would be good to rest. I dipped lower, aiming for a clearing in the trees. Ahead of me I could make out a structure inside the clearing, and a path running alongside it. As I drew closer, I heard the voices of birds. A whole cacophony of different species assailed my senses, chattering news of the day and gossip and calls for potential mates. Only one kind of structure could account for that kind of concentration of different bird species ...

“It’s the shelter.” I swooped down towards it. “Byron, we made it!”

Byron followed, flying shakily. As I breached the tree canopy, he hurtled down in front of me, landing hard on the gravel path in front of a long wire aviary.

“Oh no, did you see that?” A female voice cried out.

“I think it was a bird.” A male voice called back. “Are they starting to come here on their own, now?”

“Maybe word has got out about our excellent continental breakfast.”

Two other voices laughed.

As I watched from the tree above, a black-haired girl raced from the trees. She found Byron on the ground and scooped him up into her arms.

She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her long hair was tied back off her face. And the green overalls she wore did her tall, willowy figure no favours. But I recognised her instantly. It was Ingrid.

She rolled him over in her arms, cooing at him under her breath. “It’s OK, little one. I’ll take you to our infirmary and—”

Ingrid drew in her breath as she felt around his wing, and her fingers located the black ring. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “You’re a Bran. How did you find me?”

That was my cue. Checking that none of Ingrid’s co-workers were in my line of sight, I hopped down towards the trunk of the tree, where the branch was sturdier, and forced a shift. When I’d fully changed into my human form, I called down to her, “Is that a raven on your breast, or are you just pleased to see me?”

Ingrid whirled around, her eyes taking in my naked body. She dropped her arms, and Byron rolled out of them on to the ground. “C-C-Cole?”

I nodded. “Hello, Ingrid. You’re looking well.”

Croak?
Byron moaned pitifully from the ground. Both Ingrid and I ignored him.

“And you look just as sexy as ever. How did you find me?”

“Your online profile, RogueBird69.” Byron said. Ingrid whirled around, gasping as she found him lying naked on his side with his hand behind his head like a tattooed Adonis. “For someone who is supposed to be hiding, you’re pretty easy to find.”

“Keep your voices down,” she hissed. “My colleagues are just at the other aviary. If they hear you … it’ll be very hard to explain why I’m talking to a couple of naked men. Tell me what you’re doing here. I see you’re both wearing the rings still. So, on whose command have you come? Why didn’t Mikael come with you? Is he free?”

At the mention of Mikael, my chest ached. “He’s not free. He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Ingrid sank down to her knees. Tears sprung in the corners of her eyes. “No …”

“He was killed to keep him quiet,” I said. “Mikael and I were working together on a plan to become free, but I made a mistake that cost him his life. I am so sorry, Ingrid, so very sorry. That’s why we’re here. We need your help. We need to know how you freed yourself from the bond. We’ve got to free ourselves before more lives are lost.”

“You’re lying,” she whispered through her tears. “You’re wearing the rings. You’re still working for Morchard—”

“Rest assured, we came here by ourselves,” Byron said, wincing as he held up his hand, giving her a good look at his blackened, swollen finger.

Ingrid held out her hands, and took Byron’s in hers, gently stroking the black ring, her lips moving, forming silent words as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Finally, she looked up at me, and wiped her eyes. “Change back into your bird forms, and come with me. We have much to discuss.”

* * *

W
e hopped
along behind Ingrid as she ushered us inside a tiny potting shed behind the aviary. Inside, a cosy office had been set up, with a computer and stacks of files buried under piles of empty coffee cups, seed packets, and pamphlets about different bird species. Post-it notes, photographs of Ingrid and her workmates with the birds, and bird-related stories clipped from the papers covered the walls. Ingrid took down a map of the different nesting areas around Royal Lewcott and pinned that over the window above the desk.

“OK,” she said, slumping down in the desk chair. “You can change now.”

We did, Byron plonking his naked arse down on top of a stack of bird books, and me leaning up against the closed door. The shed didn’t lock, but I’d be able to prevent anyone from entering and seeing us.

“You know,” Ingrid said with a sly smile. “I used to always wish shifters changed with their clothes, the way they do in stories. But right now, I’m starting to see the appeal.”

“I wouldn’t flirt with Cole if I were you. He’s taken.” Byron pulled a pen out from under his arse, frowned at it, and tossed it against the wall. “It’s his cock that got us into this mess in the first place. My cock, however, is a free-for-all.”

Ingrid laughed. “I’ve missed you guys. So tell me, what’s going on?”

As briefly as we could, we filled her in on everything that had happened since I’d run away from the Morchards. Byron explained how we’d found her on the library computer and decided to come to the aviary.