The Girl and The Raven

by Pauline Gruber

  The Girl and the Raven

  Copyright 2013 by Pauline Gruber

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Dragonfly Ink, Ltd.

  P.O. Box 2042

  Palatine, IL 60078

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN 978-0-9910774-0-3

  E-ISBN 978-0-9910774-1-0

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Cover Art by Phatpuppy Art

  Cover Design by The Bookish Brunette

  Formatting by Ironhorse Formatting

  Author Photo by Sopho Studio

  In loving memory of my mother,

  Pauline Rohlf,

  who proved that it’s never too late to pursue your dream.

  Chapter One

  This is how life as I know it ends. One minute I’m sitting on the couch, watching my favorite TV show, carefully avoiding the burned crater in the center cushion, a constant reminder of The Incident. The next minute…I hear tires crunch over gravel.

  My head jerks toward the window as a tingling sensation crawls down my arms. I mute the TV and hold my breath, listening. Best-case scenario, it’s Ronny—the unemployed, soul-sucking boyfriend—dropping Momma off early. Or Mr. Bilmer, our next-door neighbor, arriving home from his weekly bowling night. Worst case? Best not to think about that. I reach under the cushion and retrieve my knife. My heart leaps into my throat when whoever it is tears off, sending rocks ricocheting off the side of our trailer.

  I jump up from the couch, knife in hand and fling the door open. Glowing taillights retreat as I step onto the rickety wooden stoop. Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see her.

  Not again.

  Sure enough, I spot Momma dumped in a heap in the front yard. Ronny…soul-sucking scumbag.

  It’s the thirtieth of May and Momma just got her monthly disability check. So what did she do? Buy groceries? Take me out to dinner to celebrate the end of freshman year? No. She couldn’t resist a party, especially one starring heroin.

  “Come on, Momma.” I grab her by the shoulders and try to hoist her up, eager to get her inside. Mrs. Albright and Ms. Bigsby, the nosey bodies across the way are probably watching.

  Momma’s stiff and heavy. And why does she feel so cool? I yelp as she slips from my hands and hits the ground with a solid thud.

  What the...?

  I stand frozen to the spot. I close my eyes against the sudden nausea. Goose bumps break out over my body. I swallow hard. Twice.

  “Momma!” I force myself to grab her again, to shake her, ignoring what I already know to be true. “Wake up!”

  Her body doesn’t move right. Doesn’t feel right. Bile fills my mouth and I lean over and spit onto the crunchy, dead grass. I run my hand along Momma’s throat to that spot where her pulse should be. Nothing. My breaths are jerky, out of control.

  “Come on, Momma! Please!”

  I grab her thin wrist with my trembling fingers and press hard, desperate to feel something.

  No…no…no!

  I lay her arm across her belly and race to the trailer next door, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.

  “Mrs. Bilmer!” I pound my fist on the flimsy door. “Mrs. Bilmer, it’s Lucy!”

  A light comes on and I hear the shuffle of slippers on linoleum.

  “Mrs. Bilmer, please! I need your phone!”

  “Don’t you go beating down my door, Lucy Walker!” she says, opening the door a crack. “What's the matter? Problems with your momma again?”

  “Call 911!” I choke. “Call them right now!”

  Chapter Two

  -Persephone-

  I perch on an old beige Buick that hasn’t run in years and watch the scene warily. No one will notice me. Not in my animal form. My wings ruffle as a breeze passes over me. I wait and watch, as I have for years. A spotted male cat, much larger than your average domestic variety, appears from beneath the car. Henry has arrived. Around his mouth are traces of blood and his tail twitches from his recent kill. I study him for a moment.

  Henry’s green eyes look up at me and narrow. With the slightest nod, I alert him to the approaching ambulance before his sensitive feline ears swivel to pick up the high-pitch wail.

  The ambulance tears down the gravel road, stopping at the correct location thanks to Mrs. Bilmer’s frantic waving. The paramedics make a valiant effort to resuscitate Lucy’s mother. Afterwards, they slam their rear doors and drive off slowly with Donna Walker inside.

  Lucy sinks to the ground, sobbing, her hands stroking the area of earth where her mother laid a few minutes ago. I want to change form. I want to go to her, pull her into my arms and comfort her. But I can’t. Not yet. I need to ease her into this slowly.

  Mrs. Bilmer finally convinces Lucy to go inside. It’s time to call the only family Lucy has left.

  I fly down from the car and Henry and I stand side by side on the ground, shielded between the old Buick and a derelict trailer. I will the change to come on and my body starts to tremble. Glancing at Henry, I see that he is about to change form as well. I close my eyes, but not before I see the streak of lightning flash across the sky and hear the rumble of thunder. I smile to myself. Henry has always been jealous of my effect on the elements.

  “Persephone.”

  I turn at the sound of my name and study Henry. His compact, muscular build is in direct contrast to his intelligent, green eyes and gentle demeanor.

  Disgusted by his lack of control in feline form and nauseated by the smell of blood, I tell Henry to wipe his face. I run my hands down my simple black cotton dress, enjoying the feel of the fabric beneath my sensitive fingertips.

  “My apologies…low on protein for the day.” He pulls a hanky from the pocket of his khakis and wipes away all traces of his recent meal.

  “We should have gotten here sooner,” I tell him, my eyes fixed on the trailer Lucy disappeared into. “Several years sooner.”

  “Vera knew what she was doing.” Henry calmly picks bits of grass off his beige polo shirt.

  “She’s been gone–what–two years now? We should’ve broken our promise…” I close my eyes and cock my head. “Lucy has called her uncles. We’ll need to move quickly.”

  “He’s going to know it the second she arrives in Chicago.” Henry turns to me, his expression grave. “For all we know, he can sense her. Now that Donna’s gone, the protections are gone…”

  “I know.”

  “I can’t believe we didn’t see this coming.” Henry nods toward the grassy spot where Lucy’s mother had been, his voice catching. “I had no idea Donna was—”

  “Oh, Henry…don’t you see? He’s behind this. He finally tracked them down. He vowed not to stop until he found Lucy.”

  Henry rises to his full height. “He won’t hurt her, Persephone. I promised Vera—”

  “Vera died trying to protect Lucy. Clearly her way doesn’t work. If we’re to succeed and see to it that Lucy lives long enough to inherit what’s rightfully hers, then we’ve got to go at this differently.”

  “And I presume you’ve worked something out?” he asks, his eyes shining brightly for the first time tonight.

  “I have, indeed.”

  After watching the Bilmer’s trailer a while longer, making sure that everything is in order, I close my eyes, my body trembling as I f
old down into a crouch. Henry reaches over and squeezes my hand for luck. A moment later, as a flash of lightning tears across the sky followed by rolling thunder, I take off in flight. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I scan the ground until I locate the exotic cat, its camel-colored coat and leopard spots slinking off into the night.

  Chapter Three

  The flight to Chicago scares me to death, mostly because every time I close my eyes I see Momma. The way I found her in the yard. Her lifeless body and pale, cold skin. The hours before when she shouted at me for doubting her. Hands on her hips, face twisted in anger. But I knew she couldn’t stay clean. I knew it.

  I exhale heavily and try to focus on happy memories. I smile as I remember when she worked as a waitress at a diner near downtown Lexington. Sometimes she would bring home leftover pie. Lemon meringue and coconut cream were our favorites. I would race to the kitchen and grab two forks. We’d share it sitting on the couch, Momma still in her uniform, the smell of grease and cigarettes pouring off of her.

  The plane lurches, sending my stomach in a nauseating somersault. I throw my hands out on instinct. With a gasp I jerk them back and tuck them between my legs. My hands are more dangerous than turbulence.

  If Gram were here, she’d hold my hand and promise everything’s going to be all right. I close my eyes and fight the heaviness threatening to suffocate me. Gram’s dead. Momma’s dead. Nothing’s going to be all right ever again.

  I stay like this, eyes closed, breathing four-counts in through my nose and four counts out through my mouth until we land. With my purse and book clutched in my arms, I follow the other passengers off the plane and make my way to the baggage claim, my uncles and my new life.

  “Lucy!”

  Uncle Bernard walks toward me, waving like a maniac, a huge smile on his face. He’s thinner than the last time I saw him, which I don’t like. He’s still a stylish dresser, though, in his short-sleeved, white button down shirt and colorful vest. I pretend not to notice the sadness in his big brown eyes as I fold myself in his embrace and relish the warmth of his hug.

  “It’s so good to see you, Luce,” he murmurs into my hair. “Let’s head over to carousel eight. Sheldon's waiting for us there.”

  “It’s great to see you, Uncle Bernard.” My voice sounds strangled as I fight the sudden urge to cry. I’m so tired of crying, so I try for a happy subject. “I can’t wait to see Lola. It’s been a few years, do you think she’ll remember—“

  “Listen to that twang of yours.” He chuckles as he grabs hold of my hand and pulls me along. I glance at him, offended that he cut me off. He and Sheldon know how much I love Gram’s raven. She’s the only pet I’ve ever had. “I told you, just call me Bernard. For Pete’s sake, you’re almost sixteen!”

  My heart and stomach clench painfully at the sight of Sheldon. His brown hair is heavy with gray, just like Gram’s, and he has her hazel eyes. I miss her all over again. Sheldon, who prefers comfort to style, wears his standard uniform of blue jeans, t-shirt and belt. Today’s shirt features the Golden Gate Bridge. He rushes over, pulling me into a bear hug. His eyes are filled with tears when he pulls away.

  “I’m so happy you’re here, kiddo. I just wish the circumstances were different.”

  “Me, too.” I notice he’s not wearing glasses. I take a deep breath and jump at the chance to change the subject. I can’t talk about Momma. Not here. “Did you get that eye surgery you talked about?”

  “I did.” He grins, winking at Bernard before returning his attention to me. “Bernard finally convinced me and I thank him every day.”

  My small brown suitcase appears on the conveyer belt and Sheldon grabs it for me.

  As we head to the exit, I shift my purse to my other hand, which makes me lose my grip on my book. I bend down to pick it up and as I stand, a man collides into me, rocking me backward. His arm snakes out to grab my shoulder, to prevent me from falling. I’m about to apologize when an electrical shock rips through me.

  I squeal and stumble back out of his grasp. The man is tall, with slicked-back hair, hair so black it looks almost blue. We stare wide-eyed at each other and I see that the color of his eyes matches his hair. My heart beats too fast and I struggle to catch my breath.

  “It’s you,” he whispers.

  Did I hear him right? My fingers twitch and my palms grow warm and I figure if this crackpot comes any closer, he’s in for a toasty surprise.

  “Lucy!” Bernard calls. “Hurry it up!”

  The tall stranger gives me a look I can’t quite interpret. Some cross between anger and curiosity. Everything about him kicks my spider senses into overdrive. He disappears into the crowd. I ignore the buzzing in my head and lumber toward my uncles on spongy legs, following them to the parking structure. As I toss my purse and book onto the back seat of their blue Volvo, a flash of white slides from my book and flutters to the floor. I bend over and retrieve the business card and read the name on its front.

  Jude Morgan

  JM Holdings

  I flip the card over and read the message scrawled on the back.

  Lucy,

  It’s very important we meet. Call me, please.

  Jude Morgan

  I never saw the man slip his card into my book. And there was no time for him to write a note. My breath hitches and a chill dances along my spine as two thoughts hit me at once. How does he know my name? And why was he expecting me?

  I tuck the card back in my book. “Um…did either of you see the man that bumped into me back there, in the airport?” Sheldon cranes his neck around, his face pinched with worry. “No. Did he take anything? Do you have your purse? Wallet?”

  Bernard peers at me in the rearview mirror, his eyebrows scrunched as he waits for my response.

  I shake my head as my heart thump, thump, thumps in my chest. “He just startled me is all.”

  And nearly short-circuited my brain.

  Who is Jude Morgan?

  Chapter Four

  I always knew Momma wasn’t long for this world. The problem is, while Gram died of natural causes, Momma died of being selfish. She swore she was done with heroin for good, that she and Ronny planned to have some good clean fun, whatever that meant. But she lied. She always lied. I close my eyes against the wave of anger clawing at my insides. She could’ve tried harder. Instead she gave into the beer, the drugs…trying just wasn’t a part of her. Guilt slams into me so hard, I’m left gasping for air. I knew she was lying when she walked out the door that night. I knew it and didn’t stop her.

  I squeeze my eyes against the burning tears. She used to be beautiful. I’ve seen the photos. After her last drug binge three months ago, I changed her clothes and cleaned her up. Her hipbones jutted out past her belly and her ribs looked like they belonged to a skeleton. I was terrified she would die.

  Opening my swollen eyes, I glance around the room, taking in the lavender walls plastered with posters of Paramore, Katy Perry and Lady Gaga from summers past. Except for the last two years, I’d spent every summer here at Gram’s house. I’d always wanted to call Chicago—Edison Park, technically—home. I picture Momma’s body lying in a heap and a horrible realization jolts me upright. All those years of wishing…did I have the power to wish her dead?

  I throw off the sheet and jump out of bed. I pace the room, trying to distract myself from the thought. Suddenly I stop and listen. No constant drone from the old air conditioner or non-stop chatter pouring from the ancient TV Momma ran twenty-four-seven. The silence is jarring.

  She’s gone.

  I walk over to the dresser and run my finger along the silver frame that holds a photo of Momma and me, the word Family engraved along the top. I’m reminded again how little I look like her. Her hair was brown while mine is black. Her eyes were brown while mine are hazel, like Gram’s.

  I dress quickly and pull my long hair into a ponytail. After two days in bed crying, I need to escape this room. I pull the business card from my purse. Jude Morgan. Flipping the car
d over I read his message again, unsure if I should call him. I try to remember if I’d met him before. I’m pretty sure I’d remember the shock of his touch if not the man himself.

  Hearing the clatter of pans on the stove and my uncles talking, I tuck the card away and eagerly follow the smell of eggs, onions, and peppers cooking. The thought of eating something other than Velveeta on white bread or Ramen noodles makes my mouth water.

  “Good morning, kiddo.” Sheldon smiles as he sets a plate of cut-up fruit on the table and grabs an extra plate and silverware for me. He hugs me briefly before I sit down. “It’s great to see you out of bed.”

  “Hey, Luce!” Bernard greets me from the stove. “You eat eggs, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I’ll pass on the animal flesh, though.” I nod at the plate of bacon Sheldon delivers to the table.

  “More for us!” Sheldon bounces his bushy eyebrows up and down like a couple of crazy caterpillars.

  I shake my head and smile at his attempt to be silly.

  Sheldon clears his throat. “So, kiddo…we need to talk.”

  Uh-oh. My back stiffens at his tone.

  Sheldon glances at Bernard and then back at me. “We think it would be a good idea for you to, you know, talk to someone.”

  “To work through the loss …” Bernard brings the pan of eggs to the table and doles them onto three plates. Sheldon pushes himself away from the table to get the toast warming on the toaster.

  With a groan, I cover my face with my hands. No counseling. I talked to a counselor once, revealed the truth about life with Momma. The woman promised me she wouldn’t tell anyone what I said. Then she met with Momma behind my back, encouraged her to get help, to think of me. Momma played nice. Said all the right things. I was left with a shit storm. I broke the golden rule. Never tell family secrets.