Nevermore

by J. C. McKenzie

  “Looks like I’m interrupting a party.” Bane turned to Cole. “I see you’re already attempting to mend bridges.”

  What did he mean by that? Was the whole Underworld following her romantic life? That wasn’t embarrassing. At all.

  The Lord of Shadows stood slowly and pushed back his chair. The wood creaked. More darkness pooled around him. “What are you doing here?”

  The rest of Raven’s family stopped bickering and stared. Oh, so that’s what it took. Two dark fae lords squaring off in their dining room. Good to know.

  “To speak with the Corvid Queen.”

  Cole flinched.

  Raven frowned. Did he get hit in the head recently? Temporary amnesia? She certainly hadn’t forgotten the events of that night. Gruesome images from her memory haunted her dreams. She slept horribly replaying the night she’d taken a life. She’d never killed anyone before, and she planned never to do so again. She set her fork down on her plate. The metal clanked against the smooth surface. “She’s dead.”

  Bane turned to Cole. “You didn’t tell her.”

  The assassin’s hands curled into large fists, more shadows drew into the room and crowded the lord where he stood. His forest scent intensified.

  “Of course, you didn’t tell her,” Bane said.

  “I was going to tell her. I was giving her time,” Cole said.

  “For what?”

  “Adjusting.”

  “How can she adjust if she doesn’t know what she’s adjusting to?” Bane snarled.

  “She needed time.”

  “Um, hello? She’s right here.” Raven waved.

  They turned toward her. Bane spotted the steak knife clutched in her hand and sneered.

  “Tell me what?” Raven asked.

  They blinked.

  “What was Cole supposed to tell me?” She spoke slowly in case they needed to process her question.

  The men exchanged looks—Cole’s furious and Bane’s smug. That probably wasn’t a good thing.

  Bane smirked and addressed Raven. “You’re now the Corvid Queen.”

  Chapter Five

  “I’ve been the queen of dysfunction and made every mistake one can make.”

  ~Janice Dickinson

  Bane’s knowledge bomb exploded in Raven’s brain. The room around her faded, the silence deafening. Her mind played back the events of that night. How she shifted into a giant raven instead of a conspiracy and chomped down on Lloth, the Corvid Queen, to prevent the power-thirsty, deranged fae leader from consuming her powers and using Bear as a battery pack.

  The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. Images of Lloth’s broken body in a pool of blood plagued her mind. Odin’s hairy nutsack, she’d killed someone. She released the steak knife and it clattered on the plate next to her fork.

  Bane’s words repeated over and over again.

  “That’s why neither of you would kill her,” she whispered. Mom’s world class mashed potatoes churned in her stomach.

  The dark fae lords watched her with unnerving black gazes.

  “I couldn’t figure out why two big bad fae lords couldn’t or wouldn’t kill one woman when you so obviously wanted her dead.” That point had always bothered her. “Now I know.”

  “And now you know.” Bane’s smug smile grew. Ugh. If she was a violent person, she’d punch that look right off his face.

  Instead, she ignored him and turned to Cole. So he wasn’t here to rekindle things between them. He’d planned to butter her up before sharing this crucial, life-altering information. Raven knew he kept things from her. She knew she was ignorant of the Underworld and its inner mechanisms. Yet, this felt like betrayal. “Is this why you left me the Scythe of Lloth?”

  “It’s called the Scythe of Corvids.”

  Of course it was.

  “I wanted to give you more time,” Cole repeated.

  She nodded. She got that. He’d said it twice after all, and she wasn’t dense. On top of that, she was the one who’d demanded space, and he gave it to her. She couldn’t direct her anger at him. At least not realistically. Blaming Cole for her actions, or in this case inactions, would certainly be easier and might make her feel better. But no. The temporary reprieve from pointing a finger at Cole wouldn’t solve her problems.

  “So, wait.” Mike piped up.

  Raven jumped. Her awareness expanded to include the whole room. Crap. The family was still there. Her entire family, minus Dad, had witnessed the announcement. Her clothes tightened on her skin and her dark essence demanded release. The same shadowy pull that woke her in the night pulsed as if the conversation awakened it. Only Bear had known what happened that night, and now they all knew.

  “Honey—” Mom reached out only to be cut off by Mike.

  “Whomever kills the Corvid Queen becomes the next Corvid Queen?” Mike straightened in his chair.

  Trust Mike to focus on clarifying facts instead of dwelling on his sister being a murderer.

  Cole nodded. “Or king.”

  Well, wasn’t he a big bucket of information all of a sudden?

  Mike’s face fell. “Does that mean others will now target my sister?”

  Her whole family tensed. Raven’s head snapped back. She hadn’t thought of that.

  Bane barked out a laugh. “Not when—”

  Cole turned to him and glared.

  Bane laughed harder.

  Raven found zero things funny about her impending doom. She braced her hands on both sides of her dinner plate and stared daggers at Cole.

  He turned to Raven. “I’ve extended my protection.”

  Everyone started speaking at once.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Raven asked, not quite loud enough. She went for indignant, but her chest grew warm and her cheeks flushed with the heat. He wanted to protect her.

  “Wait a damn second,” Bear growled over the racket. The rest of the family let their questions trail off into silence and turned to her twin. “So, everyone in the Other Realm now thinks the new Corvid Queen is weak?”

  Oh man, she hadn’t even thought of that. Clearly, she wasn’t the brains of the family operation.

  Cole looked away.

  Well, that answered Bear’s question. Something she should’ve thought to ask herself. Distracted by the dong again. Luckily, Mike couldn’t hear her thoughts. Her youngest brother was merciless.

  “And that’s incorrect, how?” Bane asked.

  “Excuse me?” Bear’s tone grew dangerously low.

  Bane sighed and leaned over as if to speak to a five year old. “How is it incorrect for the Underworld to view your sister-dearest as a weakling when that is exactly what she is?”

  Bear snarled.

  “You’re such an ass,” Raven said.

  Bane shrugged. “Yet, I speak the truth.”

  Cole sighed. “Most who took an interest in the events already investigated you. There’s no hiding your lack of experience with the Underworld. I did what I had to do to protect you.”

  Cole might sugar-coat the situation, but Raven could read between the lines. Basically, she was fucked, but this option at least came with lube. “Does this job come with pay?”

  “Pay?” Bane’s head recoiled as if the very idea of a paycheck was foreign and offended his Other principles somehow. “Of course not.”

  “Then I’m not interested.” She folded her arms.

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Cole said. “You’re probably already feeling the effects of the Shadow Realm.”

  “What does that mean?” Mom demanded.

  “How are you sleeping?” Cole asked Raven.

  Ice flowed along her skin. What did he know about that? Were her sleepless nights caused by more than her traumatic memories? Did he know what caused her unrest? Did he know how to stop it?

  The front door slammed shut and familiar footsteps padded down the hall. Dad called out, “I’m home.”

  A rush of cool night air preceded Dad before he rounded the corner. M
iddle aged and slowing down, Dad accentuated his dad-bod with khaki pants and a polo shirt. His wiry build hinted at his wily antics as a fox shifter and the familiar sight of his brown eyes and receding hairline brought warmth to Raven’s heart. “What did I miss?”

  He stopped short. His gaze darted between Bane, Cole, Chloe and Bear before he turned to Raven. “I guess this is a bad time to tell you someone slashed your tires?”

  Chapter Six

  “Tact is the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip.”

  ~ Winston Churchill

  Raven groaned and pushed past Bane and Dad to run to the front entrance. She’d already reached her quota for bad news. She didn’t need her car vandalized. She threw the door open and hopped down the steps. She needed this car. The autumn air curled around her and the wind rustled through the remaining leaves of the trees lining the street.

  Dad’s spite goat lifted his head from munching grass and bleated. After Mrs. Humphreys, the deceptively evil bigot disguised as a cute elderly neighbour, continued to call animal control regarding repeated sightings of fox in the area in an attempt to have the entire family caged, relocated or euthanized, Dad had scoured the city bylaws and discovered owning small farm pets and housing them on the property was legal. He borrowed a goat from a friend to spite Mrs. Humphreys and the poor thing had been adopted by the family.

  “Hey, Pepe.” Raven detoured off the path to scratch behind his ears. The goat closed his eyes and chewed on grass.

  Right. Car. Slashed tires. Raven patted Pepe and cut a straight path to where she’d parked her vehicle on the street. Jean Claude Grand Am, a piece of crap well past its heyday, sat on the curb with pieces of paper the size of postcards taped to each tire.

  She groaned again and slowed down. As she approached Jean Claude, the dark images on the paper grew clear. Someone had printed a figure on each piece of paper—Slash. As in the musician.

  Wheezing and slapping came from behind her. She turned to find Dad laughing so hard he was red in the face, bent over and smacking his knee like the old boy at the local legion.

  “Dad!”

  “You should’ve…” He cackled. “You should’ve seen your face.”

  Bane strode down the path, gave her father a dismissive look, frowned at Pepe and snarled at the pictures taped to the tires. He turned to focus on Raven.

  Uh-oh.

  “I’d like an audience with you to discuss the increasing threat of Closers,” he said in a disturbingly formal tone.

  “You kidnapped me and held me prisoner in a magically sealed cabin in the Underworld,” she said. Why did Bane think she’d grant him anything?

  Dad stopped laughing and straightened.

  Yeah, Dad, you totally misjudged the situation. Again.

  Dad’s whole body tensed. Realistically, her fox-shifting stepdad had little chance against the Lord of War, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying to protect her.

  “I had a fire.” Bane managed to sound offended. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Yeah, real cozy.”

  “And plaques.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to think about the odd kitschy plaques Bane had hung around his torture hut. Life was not better at the cabin, thank you very much. A gentle breeze slid over her skin, bringing hints of pine, grass and leaves, but doing little to cool the anger rising within her.

  “Oh, like that jail cell Camhanaich carted you off to was so much better.”

  Dad’s eyebrows shot up. She might’ve left that detail out of her explanation of past events. Drat. They were going to have to talk after this.

  “The difference is.” Cole stepped from the shadows to stand between them. “I didn’t keep her there.”

  “Well, neither did I,” Bane snarled. “Technically.”

  Cole stepped toward the other dark fae lord. Pepe chose that moment to walk into the group and head butt Cole in the hip. The lethal Lord of Shadows looked down at the goat and frowned.

  Pepe bleated.

  Cole sighed and scratched behind the goat’s ear. Pepe stretched his neck and strained forward for more. “Greetings, Pepe.”

  “She can’t be coddled.” Bane watched the dark fae and goat exchange with his mouth curled down. “We need her acclimatized, and fast, or the Closers will use the absence of the Corvid Queen to their advantage.”

  “The who?” That was the second time he’d mentioned that name. She’d never heard the term before. Did he mean the Regulators? They were a relatively harmless group of bigots who disliked any being from the Other Realms and wallowed in their own hate.

  “The Corvid Queen will hear your plight in a week,” Cole said.

  A week? Banshee’s bastard, that was barely enough time to prepare for a date. How was she to learn everything the Corvid Queen position entailed in such a short time? She still had to work, too. Bills gave zero fucks about her social calendar.

  “A week!” Bane growled. “That’s too much time. A lot can happen in a week.”

  “Exactly. She needs time to acclimatize and get up to speed,” Cole said.

  As much as she detested someone speaking on her behalf, she had to trust Cole spoke with her best interests in mind. What was the alternative? She had no clue what was going on. If she tried to assert her independence right now, she’d make things worse. Sometimes, it paid to keep her mouth shut.

  “And in the meantime?” Bane asked.

  “In the meantime, you’re the Lord of War. Figure it out.”

  Bane narrowed his eyes. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a disc. He threw it to the ground and a portal snapped in place. Bane turned to Raven and jabbed the air between them with his finger. “One week.”

  He straightened his suit jacket and stepped into the red haze. The portal snapped shut behind him, taking the disc with it and leaving the quiet fall night in the Burnaby subdivision in its place.

  Raven turned to Cole.

  Shadows danced in his gaze.

  “Closers?” she asked.

  Chapter Seven

  “What feels vivid, warm, or near to you at the moment?”

  ~ Anais Nin

  The Lord of Shadows followed Raven and padded down the stairs to her basement bedroom. She turned at the bottom to face him. Her breath caught in her chest. Full of power and muscle, he moved with the efficiency of a well-trained warrior, but the look he gave her had nothing to do with fighting.

  Maybe a different F word, but definitely not fighting. Maybe she hadn’t misread him after all.

  Cole stepped past her, brushing her body with his own and leaving her in the wake of his intoxicating scent—the one reminding her of a mysterious forest filled with dreams and magic.

  She closed the door behind them and turned to find Cole assessing her basement palace.

  “This is your new room?” He turned to take in the cheesy string of lantern-style lights strung up around the crown moulding and the hastily made queen-sized bed pushed against the far wall. The Scythe of Corvids rested in the corner of the room near the bed with a dusty-rose padded bra hanging from the dull edge of the blade.

  “More like old,” she said. “This was my room before I moved out.”

  Cole ran his hands along the back of an armchair in her “sitting area.” One of two, she’d saved the chairs from one of her parents’ attempts to purge old furniture from the house.

  “I should be thankful my dad didn’t turn it into his man cave like he’s threatened to do for years.”

  He let his hand slip from the worn leather and turned to her. Whenever he directed his full attention at her, the black in his eyes bled out and shifted like they contained their own shadows and they were delighted to see her. Or maybe she imagined all of it. Whenever she looked into his eyes though, she fell into the depths. Like a bottomless pool or a portal to an abyss or a giant tsunami swallowing her whole, she lost herself in his eyes.

  “You were go
ing to tell me about the Closers?” Oh look. She could still talk. Point for Raven.

  “They’re an extremist faction within the Regulators hell-bent on re-establishing the barrier between the Mortal Realm and the Other Realms,” he said.

  “Is that all?” She’d kind of already guessed as much.

  He shook his head.

  Of course not.

  “They typically despise Others and supernaturals—even the ones that inhabited the Mortal Realm pre-collapse, like shifters. Closers rely on technology over magic. They have little to none of the latter and until recently, they’ve been nothing more than a nuisance.”

  “What did they do to change that assessment?”

  Cole stepped closer. She backed up and her legs bumped into the other chair. If she reached out now, she could wind her hands in his shirt and pull him closer. Would he resist? Or would he welcome her touch and kiss her?

  “That I cannot tell you, Einin,” he said.

  “Cannot or will not?”

  “Get some rest. I will see you soon.”

  Shadows rose from the corner of the room and shrouded Cole in a whirlwind of motion. When the bands of gray faded, Cole no longer stood in front of her. She was alone in her room surrounded by only his scent.

  Raven bolted upright in bed for the third, fourth or millionth time. She’d lost count. What did it matter? With a curse, she wiped the sweat from her brow and glanced at the clock. Only an hour had passed. Sleep did not come easy to her tonight and it should have. From the work hours she kept, she should be out as if someone clocked her with a sledgehammer. The chain of events and the implications kept circling in her mind, over and over again. Bane’s revelations. Cole’s promises. Her family’s palpable fear for her safety.

  Odin’s desiccated nutbag, her parents had grilled her for hours. The clock may have said the “conversation” only lasted forty-five minutes, but now knowing how much she didn’t know about the world, Raven wouldn’t be surprised if her parents had somehow learned to bend time to extend their lectures. Who was that man? What did he mean? You killed someone? Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t Bear tell us? Who and what is a Corvid Queen? How much trouble are you in? Are we in trouble? In danger? How much can we trust this Lord of Shadows to protect us? Pack your bags, we’re moving. No, don’t pack your bags. Fix this, Raven. Fix this and stay alive. No, wait. Let us handle it. No…no…At this point, Mom deflated and kept swiping away angry tears while Dad wore a helpless expression and shook with rage.