Raven Born: An Urban Fantasy Shifter Series (Lost Souls Series Book 1)

by Bree Moore

  The thoughts slipped through Tyson’s brain like water down a drain. he squinted at the screen and picked up his nearly empty coffee cup. Time for a refill.

  Tyson clicked out of the report and scanned the rest of his emails. His eyes slid past one from his cousin Becca that he’d already read, then drifted back to it.

  He clicked into the email, dated over two months ago. In it, Becca prattled on, as usual, about her work in her dad’s Cryptozoology museum. It was doing better now than when they had been kids; ever since the Reveal, tourists swarmed the place to learn more about the myths become reality. Tyson’s uncle, Jerome Belinski, was in Egypt presenting at a seminar and furthering his research. He had gotten Tyson the counseling job through Tom, whom he met at a conference.

  Tyson skimmed the rest of the email, and his heart grew heavy. He hadn’t seen or heard from Becca since she visited last month. She disappeared at the same time as Quinn, and several people cried foul, but Tyson knew her better than they did. Becca never intended to stay at the camp long. She was data collecting for her dad, and then one of his colleagues contacted her with some information she needed and she left. Her disappearance had nothing to do with the rogue paranormal who had rejected the benefits Naturalization had to offer. At least, that was the official story. The longer she was silent, the more likely it seemed she could be involved...somehow.

  Tyson brought up Quinn’s file again, scanning the session notes Dr. Hartford had taken. He could have switched it with Harper’s and hardly known the difference, though Quinn seemed more calculating and less prone to outbursts. He’d never tried to attack anyone while here, and his first escape attempt had succeeded, against all the odds.

  A knock at the door startled Tyson. He minimized the screen and spin around in his chair.

  “Come in.”

  Fletcher ducked his blond head into the room. His blue-feathered wings were tucked against his back, but the edges still brushed the doorway as he passed. His normally cheerful face creased with worry. “Sorry to bother you, Tyson.”

  “It’s not a bother. Please sit.”

  Fletcher closed the door and sat without leaning back to avoid crushing his wings. He stayed silent for a long moment, twisting the chair back and forth, clasping and un-clasping his hands. He rubbed his palms on his jeans, and his eyes flickered from Tyson to the floor.

  Tyson hadn’t seen him this agitated in a long time, and he could guess the reason.

  “Is it about your Reformation appointment?” Tyson asked quietly.

  Fletcher swallowed and cleared his throat. “Sort of.”

  Tyson’s stomach clenched, but he kept his face passive. This close to a successful Naturalization, doubt was a normal part of the process, but it still made him nervous. Fletcher’s success would be Tyson’s success. And his key to promotion, but Tyson couldn’t think about that now. Fletcher needed him. He had to stay focused.

  “What is bothering you about it?”

  “Has anyone ever regretted going through the Reformation? I mean, long term?” Fletcher’s voice wavered.

  Tyson hesitated. “You’ve been preparing for a long time for this. It’s a big decision. But you have some great role models. Both of your parents and your older sister have been through the program. When was the last time you talked to them?”

  “I got an email from them last week.”

  “What did they have to say?”

  “My mom and dad were encouraging, as usual.” Fletcher adjusted his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs. “My sister, though. She’s been getting more negative. Saying cryptic stuff, like how I have no idea what I’m doing, how it will affect the rest of my life. I always thought she would support me the most, you know, since her Reformation allowed her to get that position at the aviary, but now…” He trailed off.

  Tyson made a note in Fletcher’s chart to talk to his parents. These last days were critical, and his sister shouldn’t be allowed to email him if she was unstable. Tyson could recommend psychological evaluation for her, as well.

  “Have you met that Harper girl yet? She was in Petrov’s class.”

  The question startled Tyson, and his pen drew an errant mark on the page. “Ah. Yes, I have. She checked in last night.” He frowned at the pen mark. Harper seemed like the type of person who ruffled feathers wherever she went. He focused back on Fletcher. “What did she say to you?” He watched the shifter’s body language.

  Fletcher rubbed his middle finger, and his wings shivered.

  “Well, not to me, exactly. She called Mr. Petrov a monster when she learned what…what bird shifters go through for Naturalization.”

  “The Reformation.”

  Fletcher leaned forward, resting his forearms on the tops of his legs. “Yeah.”

  Tyson paused, breathing in through his nose, then slowly out of his mouth. He had to phrase this in just the right way, or it would go off in a direction that wouldn’t serve anyone. “Fletcher, do you remember the first time you learned about what going through with Naturalization would require of you?”

  He tilted his head. “Yeah, but I didn’t freak out like she did.”

  “You were prepared. Your family was an example to you. You could see they were okay, so you did better with the idea. Harper doesn’t have that. She’s been on the run her entire life. Her family is gone. She’s afraid of all the unknowns.”

  “I’m not afraid of the process. I just don’t know if I’m going to regret it.”

  “What are you looking forward to about completing Naturalization?” The air hovered between them, fragile and uncertain.

  Fletcher leaned forward. “Seeing my family, I guess. And fitting in with everyone. Being normal. I wanted that my whole life.” His face cleared, and his shoulders relaxed. “I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

  “It’s going to be hard. You still have the surgery and recovery to go through. But you won’t be alone.” Tyson smiled, and to his relief, Fletcher smiled back. The pressure in the room eased.

  “I feel bad for Harper, you know?” Fletcher said after a moment. “She doesn’t have anyone. I don’t want her to end up like Quinn.”

  “What Harper could use right now is a friend who can show her that she doesn’t have to be afraid. How would you feel about being that person for her?” It just might work if the information came from a peer rather than someone she perceived as a threat, and Fletcher could affirm his conviction to go through with it. Two birds with one stone, as the saying went.

  A wide grin spread across Fletcher’s face. He slapped his hands on his knees. “Yeah, man! I can do that. I see what you mean. I could talk to her, right? Reassure her.”

  “Absolutely. And if she says anything that upsets you, remember that she doesn’t know what you know. You can see me again if you need to talk it out.”

  “Thanks, Tyson.” Fletcher had relaxed since he came in, but some tension remained in his expression.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Fletcher’s brow furrowed. He shifted his seat, feathers rustling. “Is it…is it a problem if I find her…attractive?”

  Harper, attractive? Tyson remembered her crouched in the corner of this room the night before, wings spread, a grimace on her face. Some might find her attractive. The camp had rules, of course, about resident relationships. They were supposed to get cut off if they got too serious. In this case, however…Fletcher’s elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward, waiting for what Tyson would say.

  Tyson sighed and looked him in the eye. “You’ve had all the lectures, Fletcher. I won’t repeat them. Just remember that your Reformation appointment is this week. You need to focus on moving forward.” He had every confidence in Fletcher. They’d worked together through Tyson’s entire internship. Meeting Harper today just shook him up a little. Tyson forced a smile. “That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this time you have to get to know her. We encourage friendships. And your f
riendship could be what gets her to where you are.”

  A plant could have thrived on the light in Fletcher’s smile. He stood, shaking out his feathers. “I can do that. Thanks for the advice.”

  Tyson spread his hands. “It’s what I’m here for.”

  Fletcher walked out with a spring in his step, and Tyson’s heart soared. That was why he had gotten into paranormal psychology in the first place. He could do a world of good here.

  After Fletcher, Tyson got a steady stream of residents from the class Harper spoke out in. Apparently, she said a bit more than what Fletcher mentioned. Everyone wanted to know if she was going to ruin their chances at Naturalization, and Tyson had to explain over and over again how Naturalization applications were based on individual merit, not what their classmate thought.

  The clock read close to 2:00 p.m. when he closed his door behind the last resident and slumped against it, finally catching his breath. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten lunch. He cleared the clutter from breakfast off the desk and his hand bumped the computer mouse, waking up the screen. An email notification popped up on the desktop. Tyson maximized the internet window and froze.

  A new email from Becca. He licked his lips and tapped his mouse nervously with a finger. The door was shut, so no one could possibly see. Were they monitoring his personal email? Probably not, but one could never be too sure.

  Tyson clicked the subject line, which was blank. There was only a single line.

  Safe. Wanted you to know. See you soon.

  His breath whooshed out of him.

  “What have you gotten yourself into now, Becca?” he muttered, opening a blank email to reply and give her a hard time about being cryptic. He stared at the blinking cursor so long he started to see spots. And then, for the sixth time since noon, a knock came at his door. Two fists banging instead of one. He knew that double knock.

  James and Violet Petrov.

  Tyson’s heart skipped a beat, and he pressed the power button without thinking, hard crashing the desktop. Becca wasn’t guilty, but one of the people knocking thought she was. They had already interviewed Tyson since no one could get a hold of her, but he didn’t know anything except that he was certain she was innocent.

  “Come in.” Tyson spun around as the door opened, a mysterious wind whirling through James’ and Violet’s hair like a special effect in a movie.

  “You’re working rather hard,” James said.

  “Just passing time. Is my new lanyard ready yet?” Too much to hope for, but he had to ask.

  James straightened his glasses. “It’s in the process.”

  “We came to speak with you about Harper King,” Violet intoned, a mysterious, heavy weight to her voice. With James here, Violet must have Seen something, something that involved Tyson or one of his clients. He’d seen one of her trances only once. Scary stuff. He swallowed past his fear as Violet continued. “This Daughter of Raven brings mayhem to our sanctuary. She has disrupted many of our residents with her rage over Naturalization.”

  “We’ve had difficult residents before. There’s a transition period for all of them.”

  “We have reason to believe she is a particular danger to herself and others.” James stepped forward, urgency on his face. “She isn’t just a bird shifter. The Raven sings from her blood.”

  “Raven born,” Violet hissed, her gaze still caught in the clutches of her prophetic Sight.

  Tyson crossed his arms, feeling his hackles rise. “Whatever she is, we can handle it. No different than your pet banshee.”

  That jibe would have normally gotten him a sizzling glare from Violet, but she was still entranced, her stare flat and emotionless.

  James raised his eyebrows, and Tyson reconsidered Violet’s word choice. Raven born. Raven was a significant figure in the beliefs of the Inuit. Nana brought Tyson up with stories of the mischievous creator of light. Some even said Raven created man.

  “You both keep referring to this ‘Raven.’ Are we talking about a god? I didn’t know the great Raven had daughters.” Tyson shifted his weight from foot to foot. If they were dealing with a half-deity, a demi-god...

  “I don’t believe Raven is classified as a god, although it’s a near enough definition. With your Inuit heritage, we assumed you would know more than we do about her kind.” James sort of shrugged. Tyson had never seen him so stumped by a mythology question. James knew more about the hundreds of types of paranormal and supernatural beings than Tom, who was the resident expert.

  Tyson put his hands up in the air. “Look, I may have Inuit grandparents, but all I know are fragmented stories told as bedtime tales. Nothing about Raven people, though I’m not surprised they exist. Is there any evidence she’s related to a deity?” His mouth went dry. His training had covered deities and demi-gods. As counselors, they were instructed to avoid them whenever possible and to report any interaction with divine beings for the directory being created for reference. If Harper was one, she couldn’t stay here. A team would be brought in, more specialized than S.T.F. It wouldn’t be pretty.

  “We…we aren’t sure. We need you to find out. There is very little literature available, and Violet has had a premonition of sorts, though it’s harder to read than most of the others she’s had,” James explained. “You are in a unique position to talk to Harper and draw out information. She may not know herself what her abilities are. It’s imperative we find out, while at the same time keeping her calm. Help her feel safe here. We don’t want any errant powers manifesting if we can help it, and we can’t afford for her to escape.”

  “If you’re that worried, why not transfer her to higher security? We don’t have the resources to contain her if she’s that powerful.” Tyson straightened in his chair, uncrossing his arms, then crossing his legs. He couldn’t seem to sit still.

  James pressed his fingers against the edge of the desktop. “We’re trying to impress key players in the Administration. Since the other raven shifter escaped, we intend to keep a tight hold on this one and find out everything we can.”

  Tyson could play this angle to his benefit. He steepled his fingers, swiveling my chair slightly. He pointed his hands at James.

  “You’re willing to put a lot of people at risk for this information and to improve your reputation with the state. I’m not sure I agree with your methods, though.”

  James hesitated, glanced at his wife, whose expression remained stony, and drew his lips in a thin line. “Your full cooperation would be appreciated, of course. And we could guarantee that our appreciation takes the form of two essential signatures.”

  “Two?”

  “Tom and Lilith are not our puppets, Tyson. We can put in our word for your recommendation. Your influence on them is up to you. We do ask that you don’t tell them about Harper, at least not yet.”

  Dr. Hartford, Tyson understood. He would insist on shipping Harper off to another facility. Tyson wasn’t sure about Lilith, but by James’ insistence not to tell her, he assumed the warlock had a good reason. Perhaps it came down to who would take credit for unlocking the Raven born’s secrets.

  What James implied was risky, but if successful could turn into more funding, more land, and more benefits for everyone working at Camp Silver Lake. And Tyson wanted this promotion. As a full-time counselor at the camp, he would help more paranormals achieve a normal life. James’ and Violet’s signatures would otherwise be the hardest to get.

  Tyson clapped his hands together, a satisfied smile coming to his face. “You can count on me.”

  Violet broke out of her trance and wrapped Tyson in her familiar, fiery gaze. “Do whatever it takes, Miller. Make her think you have something on her, her family, whatever it takes to earn her trust.” She pursed her lips, never taking her eyes off his as she tilted her head.

  Together, they turned to go.

  “Oh, and you have an appointment with her in fifteen minutes,” Violet said without looking back.
>
  Fifteen minutes. Tyson groaned internally. Fifteen minutes to eat lunch, use the bathroom, and book it back here before he missed an appointment with a possible demi-god, or near enough.

  “Thank you,” he said sarcastically to the closing door.

  Chapter Six

  Harper

  There was a glass door leading outside at the end of the hall. Harper pushed it open and stepped onto the grass, chest heaving.

  How far could she get if she took off now? She searched the skies. They were a dark, stormy gray and lightning crackled from the clouds with a frequency that made her nervous. Never fly in a storm. The ever-practical Quinn. Would he give the same advice if he were here?

  Worse than the storm, someone would certainly spot her before she reached the clouds. She’d have to hike through the woods for a couple of miles to get out far enough to reduce the risk of being seen. Lilith’s warning about rogues in the woods rang in her head. But how else could she leave this place?

  Harper cocked her head at the sound of something scraping against metal. To her left was a large white box truck. Burly men went in and out with loads no normal human could lift. She recognized Zeke among them. The others must have been from his pack.

  She jumped down the steps and headed toward the driveway where they stacked crates. Produce and various foods peeked out of the crates as Harper drew closer. Dozens of massive cooler chests sit next to them, she guessed for meat and dairy.

  A guy with a clipboard stood on one leg near the garage. One pant leg was tied off beneath the knee of one leg as if the leg had been amputated. Harper recognized him from Zeke's table at breakfast. The guy spotted Harper and gave her a huge, teeth-bearing grin. Did all werewolves smile like that? She inched toward him.

  “Harper, right? I'm Beckett.” He held out a hand, which Harper ignored. He wiped his hand on his pants and retrieved his pen, then looked over at the others still unloading and checked a few things off on his clipboard. “Finishing up grocery delivery here. Almost didn't make it before the rogues today. We'll have to change the delivery time again. Hello, Lilith.” He said it without turning around.