Conspiracy of Ravens
Page 1
Table of Contents
Conspiracy of Ravens (Raven Crawford, #1)
Praise for novels of J. C. McKenzie
Books by J. C. McKenzie
CONSPIRACY OF RAVENS
J. C. McKENZIE | COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Raven’s List of Server Pet Peeves
GLOSSARY Of TERMS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
About the Author
Sign up for J. C. McKenzie's Mailing List
Further Reading: The Night House
Also By J. C. McKenzie
Raven shuddered and completed the final steps to stand at the man’s table. She slipped the menu in front of him and smoothed down her thick cotton apron. The entire time, his focus remained trained on the now-silent, mini-frat party.
Raven cleared her throat.
Nothing.
“Welcome to Dan’s Diner. Our special tonight is—”
The man turned his attention to her, and the music and lighting returned. His Otherness rolled over her in a sweet, dangerous wave. His skin shone like smooth porcelain, contrasting sharply with his dark features and ink-black hair. His gaze enthralled her—piercing eyes, pools of black, as if the pupil bled into the iris, leaving only a sliver of silver along the edges. She could easily fall into the murky depths and not care if she ever resurfaced.
Eyes of the Underworld. Like hers.
Praise for novels of J. C. McKenzie
Shift Happens
“SHIFT HAPPENS has excitement, intrigue and lots of danger. I love the whole cast of characters and how they played a part in the story” –Fresh Fiction
Beast Coast
“I loved this book as much as the first. There are secrets, surprises, and all manner of supernaturals.” –Paranormal Romance Guild
Carpe Demon
“The story keeps the adrenaline pumping and spine tingling tension building throughout the story with well written scenes full of vivid details that capture the imagination and make it easy for the reader to become engrossed...” –Literary Addicts Book Community
Shift Work
“It’s a terrific series and if you like supernatural reads, with a side of romance, the sort with solid and intense plots, gripping and very real dangers, hard choices, supernatural people some of whom can be selfish, cruel and bloodthirsty...You’ll be hooked.” –Jeannie Zelos Book Reviews
Beast of All
“This time out, J. C. McKenzie has outdone herself with high-velocity action, soul deep emotions and one of those finishes that you want to replay over and over!” –Tome Tender
Dangerous Dreams
“This new world promises to be an adventurous one full of snark, passion, thrills, romance, danger and wonderful characters and I can’t wait to read the next one.” –Stormy Vixen Reviews
Dangerous Liaisons
“Loved this story and loved Raf and strong, stubborn Lara and I can’t overlook Lara’s dragon who brought humor to this story.” –Paranormal Romance Guild
The Good Griffin
“THE GOOD GRIFFIN is as addictive as a double shot of espresso, only without any of the withdrawal symptoms.” –N. N. Light
The Shucker’s Booktique
“Is there anything sexier than a man who wants to do more than just twine his aura together with another woman? Because if there is I simply don’t know if I can handle that kind of blatant sexuality.” –Romance Novels For The Beach
Be My Love
“When this book ended I think I actually sighed. Not because I was happy it was over! No, it was just so darn sweet I couldn’t help it." –Romance Novels for the Beach
Books by J. C. McKenzie
Conspiracy of Ravens
Nevermore
Queen of Corvids
Shift Happens
Beast Coast
Carpe Demon
Shift Work
Beast of All
Dangerous Dreams
Dangerous Liaisons
Dangerous Decisions
The Good Griffin
The Shucker’s Booktique
Be My Love
CONSPIRACY OF RAVENS
A RAVEN CRAWFORD NOVEL, BOOK ONE
J. C. McKENZIE
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Conspiracy of Ravens
COPYRIGHT © 2018 by J. C. McKenzie
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: jcmckenzie@jcmckenzie.ca
Cover Art: Eerilyfair Design
Raven artwork: Yauheniya Piatrouskaya
Raven in nest artwork: Chad Keith
Publishing History:
First JCM Publications Edition, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-9992394-0-4 (print)
ISBN: 978-1-9992394-1-1 (ebook)
To my friend Megan,
She’s nothing like the Megan in this story
(my Megan is way more awesome),
but she let me use her name anyway.
Author’s Note
As I’m Canadian, and this story is set in Canada, I will subject all my fabulous readers to the wonderful, and sometimes confusing, world of Canadian spelling. We use a combination of British and American spelling in the True North. It’s “colour” not “color” and “organization” instead of “organisation.” We love the letters U and Z. Please keep this in mind when you’re reading. It’s not that I can’t spell or didn’t have a fabulous editor, it’s that I’m demonstrating complex Canadian spelling.
Also of note: Although we are technically a metric nation, our proximity to our American neighbours (see how I spelled that?) means we are well versed in the imperial system. Many of us still use feet and inches to describe our height and pounds for our weight. I’m not being inconsistent in my world building, I’m being realistic and reflective of the community I was born and raised in.
Canadians...we’re complex and full of layers.
Like onions.
“I fly upon the blackest of wings,
I soar through the dark night sky,
I answer to no call but my own,
I alone forge my reality,
for I am the Raven,
Child of Odin.”
~ Viking Proverb
Chapter One
“The trouble with the rat-race is t
hat even if you win, you're still a rat.”
~Lily Tomlin
The bell above the entrance door chimed and Raven’s impending doom walked into Dan’s Diner. She froze with a coffee carafe in one hand and an empty mug in the other.
The cool night air washed into the twenty-four-hour restaurant in North Burnaby. Anywhere else the breeze would be welcomed, bringing in subtle hints of late summer, like the honeyed perfume of fragrant night-blooming flowers. Not here. Instead, gasoline and gloom from the neglected division of the city accompanied the oily scent of Dan’s Diner with the arrival of their newest customer. Victim was more accurate. But neither customer nor victim described the latest patron.
Tall, dark and dangerous. TDD.
A shiver ran along Raven’s spine as she took in the late-night patron. Well over six feet, with broad shoulders, his presence commanded attention. The sweater’s hood covered most of his face, but dark jeans and a hoodie failed to hide his powerful build or how he moved with the confidence of a well-trained fighter.
The lights flickered and the music playing over the speaker faltered briefly before the static cleared and the low voice continued serenading the customers.
“My coffee?” The surly customer at the table in front of Raven scowled. He wore a stained wool sweater and smelled of sawdust and old coffee grounds. This particular regular never tipped and always looked at her as if everything he hated about his life was somehow her fault.
She plunked his mug on the table and straightened to greet the newcomer. “Grab a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you.”
TDD nodded and stalked past the counter, his black boots meeting the cheap tile without a sound. His silent progress mesmerized her. She got the impression he’d take care of everything and anything. If mountain trolls attacked the diner at this very moment, he’d eliminate the threat with cold, quick efficiency.
“Waitress.” The surly regular lifted his empty coffee mug and waved it in the air.
Oops. Raven flipped her long ponytail out of her way, the dull black hair trailed greasy strands along her neck. Her mane’s lustre disappeared a while ago, along with hope. She turned back to the customer and his potent glower and forced a smile on her face.
Snatching the customer’s ring-lined mug, she filled it. If only she could wave a magic wand and look her best. Her power didn’t work like that, though, so instead, her forearm shone under the artificial light with a thin layer of grease from working close to the kitchen. She smelled like vat fat even when she wasn’t working.
She needed to drop off the carafe and pick up a menu for the new customer. And perhaps deliver a better greeting than staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“Miss?” A woman snapped her fingers a few booths over.
Raven clamped her mouth shut and turned to the middle-aged woman and her miserable husband. She’d drawn the short straw for customers tonight—and every night—but she needed this job and the potential tips that came with it. She repeated her “be nice” mantra in her head and smiled at the customers.
The woman raised both hands and mimed writing on paper. There should be a degree in waitressing sign language—probably the only qualification Raven could now afford. She’d given up her dreams of getting an actual degree years ago. Now, she busted her ass to pay off someone else’s debt.
“I’ll bring the cheque right over,” Raven told the woman. She returned the coffee carafe, printed the cheque and slipped a menu under her arm. Her skin prickled with unease as the tiny hairs on her arms stood. Was TDD watching her every move?
Get a grip. He wanted a menu.
TDD took the small booth on the far end of the restaurant. Table Fifteen, used mostly by late-night lovers for tonsil hockey or loners for brooding. She gulped and resisted the urge to look at him. Act normal.
Normal? What in the Underworld was that? Stale coffee coated her tongue. She popped another mint in her mouth and walked like a drunk lumberjack toward the table with the demanding wife. The loose change in her apron jingled with each step.
The longer Raven served the general public, the more she hated people in general. The drunken frat boys at table six yelled at each other over the static speaker crooning oldies. Their excessive banter appeared to impress the young women hanging off them but did little to endear them to Raven.
“Here you go.” She placed the cheque down on the table along with two mints in front of the middle-aged couple, and left before the woman could demand anything else. Taking a deep breath did little to quell Raven’s nerves. She pulled the menu from under her arm and turned in slow motion to the booth across the diner. With a pace closer to a shuffle than a hustle, she made her way over to the new customer’s booth. Her black pants grew tight and her white work blouse suddenly felt frumpy.
Instead of staring her down, as she expected, the man’s gaze focused on the window to take in the nightlife of North Burnaby. The corner of his full lips tugged up in a slight smirk as if he found something amusing. Raven found nothing about working at this crappy restaurant amusing.
Unfortunately, any decent job these days required a bachelor’s degree at minimum. Dan’s Diner required the ability to speak passable English and had flexible hours that allowed her to work for the family business on the side.
Raven clutched the plastic menu tightly and closed the distance. One of the drunken frat boys spoke as she walked by. Something about her ass. Her step faltered. It wasn’t the first time, nor the last, a customer commented on her body. Positive or negative, it was always unwanted, but she needed the tip, so she let it slide. The size of her ass had never prevented her from taking orders or delivering food. Fitting into certain clothes, maybe. Avoiding table corners that seemingly jutted out of nowhere, certainly. But never waitressing.
The others at the table snickered.
Screw them.
TDD stiffened and his gaze flicked first to her and then to the rambunctious, entitled group of wealthy students behind her. His face darkened and an eerie sense of foreboding filled the diner—as if rage itself flowed from his pores and radiated through the grease-laden air. The lights flickered and the room dimmed. The music stopped.
The table behind her went quiet.
Raven shuddered and completed the final steps to stand at the man’s table. She slipped the menu in front of him and smoothed down her thick cotton apron. The entire time, his focus remained trained on the now-silent, mini-frat party.
Raven cleared her throat.
Nothing.
“Welcome to Dan’s Diner. Our special tonight is—”
The man turned his attention to her, and the music and lighting returned. His Otherness rolled over her in a sweet, dangerous wave. His skin shone like smooth porcelain, contrasting sharply with his dark features and ink-black hair. His gaze enthralled her—piercing eyes, pools of black, as if the pupil bled into the iris, leaving only a sliver of silver along the edges. She could easily fall into the murky depths and not care if she ever resurfaced.
Eyes of the Underworld. Like hers.
Raven’s scalp prickled as if all the hair on her head decided to stand up and say, “Take me!” Mom had kept her and her brother away from anything remotely connected to the Underworld, and all the realms within its domain, going as far as making them wear contacts to hide their nature. Raven and her brother grew up pretending to be fox shifters like the rest of the family.
The man’s black brows rose. “You were saying?”
His deep gravelly voice danced along her skin.
Oh, sweet baby Odin. No. The low rumbling timbre made her want to do all sorts of things. Dirty things. Naughty things. She squeezed her thighs together.
Within five minutes, not even, this man turned her into a mewling kitten with three words. Raven mentally cursed. Instead of what? A bitter, late-twenty-something waitress with a mountain of debt? Ugh.
Grandma Lu always said Crawford women had strong backbones, not wishbones. She’d throw punches in her cask
et if she saw her granddaughter now.
Raven smoothed her apron. “The special is—”
“I’ll have a coffee, black.”
“Like your soul?” The thought slipped through her lips before she could stop it.
He blinked.
“Any food?” Good save.
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head.
“One black coffee, coming right up.” Cheap ass. She snatched back the menu and walked away to get his order. The weight of his gaze pressed against her skin like a strong wind.
Server Pet Peeve Number One, Campers. Raven hated customers who ordered one of the cheapest items on the menu and nursed it through her whole shift—essentially taking away a perfectly good table where other, potentially higher tipping customers could’ve sat. Campers pitched a tent, laid claim to their campsite and stayed for a relaxing, extended vacation.
Raven slapped the useless menu back on the pile. Making numbered lists helped soothe her and the restless dark energy she harboured inside. It was an old habit. She wrote down all sorts of lists in her notebook at home, and if she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, she could see the lined page containing all her Server Pet Peeves as if it lay in front of her. Raven lacked many skills, but memory wasn’t one of them.
Raven’s gaze scanned the near-empty diner and sighed. One good-looking, if not ominous, camper wouldn’t destroy her already-dismal tip prospects tonight.
Or any night.
Raven grimaced. At this rate, she’d never pay her way out of the hot mess money hole her useless sack of an ex dumped her in.
Hot coffee spilled over the mug’s edge and burned her hand.
“Odin’s balls!” She sucked in a breath and pulled her arm back. Flapping her hand in the air didn’t help. The skin stopped screaming and settled to a dull ache while the surface bloomed a lovely shade of red. Raven slammed the coffee pot back on the burner.
After sopping up the mess with a rag and delivering the cheque to the now mute party table, she made her way back to TDD.
Behind her, the frat guys and their groupies slapped money on the table and cleared out of the diner in under a minute flat. No jeers, leers or otherwise typical behaviour of the early-twenty-somethings trying to use alcohol to find themselves.