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

by Bree Moore

  Who is it? Harper mouthed, moving toward Tyson. She still didn’t know who was on the phone, but she’d probably guessed by now.

  Tyson mouthed Becca back at her. Her eyebrows came together, then relaxed.

  Quinn? She asked silently. Good. She caught that he didn’t want to say their names out loud.

  “She wants to talk to him.”

  A brief second later, Quinn’s voice came over the phone. “Harper?”

  “Just a sec.” Tyson handed the phone toward Harper. She looked at it with wide, hungry eyes, then snatched it out of his hand.

  “Qu-” she stopped herself, swallowing before saying his name. Her feathers trembled with her body, making them rustle. “Hey.”

  She bit her lip and closed her eyes. To Tyson’s shock, a tear fell down her cheek. He wished he could hear Quinn’s side. He leaned across the desk and passed her a box of tissues. She grabbed one and crumpled it in her hand, pressing her lips together like she didn’t want to melt down in front of Tyson.

  “I can’t leave yet.”

  Tyson blinked rapidly, and his stomach clenched. He tried to gesture, cutting a hand across his throat.

  She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, missing or ignoring his signal. “Yeah, no. Just…a friend needs me.” Pause. “It’s not like that! Jerk.” A wide smile spread across her face, more genuine than any Tyson had seen her make. It chased the darkness from her face. As quickly as it came, it left, and her expression sobered.

  “It’s too late for him.” Harper looked down, hand pressing into the desk’s surface. She tossed the tissue ball and it rolled onto the floor.

  Tyson picked it up without a word. It made sense now; Quinn must have asked about Fletcher, about taking him with them. Fletcher would never go.

  “How long?” It was a question, and she looked to Tyson.

  He shook his head and tried to mouth “Aberration Management” and mime getting locked up, but Harper just looked confused. Sighing, he lifted two fingers. Fletcher’s family would be here in two days.

  “Can you wait until then? What should I look for?” She paused. “Uh-huh. Yeah.” She licked her lips. “West side? Okay.” She paused again, then nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. Stay safe until then.” She handed the phone toward Tyson, giving him a “what the hell?” glare.

  Tyson took the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey, me again.” Becca. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to know the plan.”

  Tyson swallowed. Now was the time to tell Becca that Aberration Management was coming for Harper.

  Becca must have taken his silence as agreement, because she launched into another response before he could reply. “Just help Harper get supplies—some non-perishables, toiletries, you know. Unless that’s too much?”

  Tyson made a strangled sound. Everything was moving too fast. He looked at Harper, sitting in the office chair, lazily spinning back and forth, wings practically wrapped around her like a cocoon. “No, I think I can do that.”

  “You’re the best. Take care of yourself.” There was a pregnant pause. Tyson could tell what she was thinking, so he spoke and their words overlapped each other.

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Sure you don’t want to come?” Becca laughed. “I don’t know how you do what you do, spending all your time in that place, day after day. I know I couldn’t do it. I’m glad someone does.”

  “Thanks. I guess.” Another silence. “I suppose I won’t be seeing you for a while?”

  “Unless you change your mind. Or we show up on the news.” Her laugh came off forced this time.

  “Don’t show up on the news,” Tyson replied firmly.

  “You got it.”

  The line went silent. Tyson dropped his arm, phone still in his hand, and looked at Harper. Why hadn’t he said anything? His tongue still felt tied in his mouth, heavy and useless. He closed his eyes.

  Harper tented her hands, fingertips touching as she put her feet on the desk. “How do you do it?” Her eyes found Tyson’s, a little red from being rubbed. “Watch the oppressed accept oppression, begging at the feet of government officials for scraps of freedom? How do you sleep at night?”

  Her barbed tone sank under his skin. “I slept fine last night,” Tyson snapped. “Can you get your feet off my desk?”

  She removed them, shrugging. “Just wondering. You humans are so emotional, it’s surprising to meet one that isn’t. Is that why you’re so good at this? You just don’t feel?”

  Tyson gritted his teeth. “I feel plenty, Harper. What do you want?”

  “I want justice,” she hissed, standing up out of the chair and sending it sliding backwards. She jabbed her finger toward Tyson’s face. “Justice for Fletcher’s wings, for his parents and sister, and for every other paranormal that has had to sacrifice themselves for your comfort.”

  “Oh, so we’re doing this now?” Tyson gestured between them. “Because I can put on my shrink hat. Harper, you know what’s wrong with you?”

  He rushed headlong into the angry words, unable to stop them. “You’re selfish. You want the world to bow to you, like you’re something special. Well, you know what? You’re not. You’re another homeless foster-care product, thinking all your anger is justified because of a tragic past. You don’t see that other people want to help you, that they might care about you. You just see you.”

  Breath huffed through him. Harper gaped, then sat up straight, expression hardening. She spun and strode toward the door. Tyson deflated, the fury fleeing as he watched her leaving.

  “Harper, wait.”

  Her hand twisted the doorknob. Tyson crossed the room in three strides and touched her arm above the elbow. She glared down at his hand.

  If she never talked to him again, this was important.

  “Aberration Management is on their way. Violet called and told them about your unique abilities. They’ll take you to a higher security base. If they come before Becca and Quinn get here…” Tyson swallowed. What could he advise her to do?

  Harper jerked her arm out from beneath his touch. “I can take care of myself.” She ducked her head, avoiding eye contact, then pulled open the door, thrusting past him. Her right wing pushed him back from the doorway, and he stumbled, catching his hip on the desk. Had she done it on purpose? After what he’d said, he couldn’t fault her. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t speak to him at all for the next two days. And then it wouldn’t matter anymore. One way or another, she’d be gone.

  Tyson rubbed his sore hip. He’d only known Harper for a week. Less. But his heart still clenched at the thought of her leaving.

  A knock came on the door. Tyson answered it to find Anita, one of the witches, her lip trembling as she entered. The first of a continuous line of residents needing advice, council, but mostly comfort today while they processed this victory of Fletcher’s. The kind of victory that didn’t feel like a victory to everyone here. And, for the first time since he arrived at Camp Silver Lake, Tyson was among them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Harper

  Harper ditched classes until lunch, still furious with Tyson. It seemed like a day when classes should have been cancelled, but they must have wanted to carry on as if nothing had happened. There were more people than usual littering the halls, and no one seemed to care much about classes, though a few sticklers took up desks, and a small crowd dueled outside with Zeke. Harper wandered through the cabin, avoiding people. Tyson’s office door remained shut, though she’d seen several people go in there. He should have told Becca about Aberration Management being after Harper. Should have told Harper herself. Quinn was coming to get her out in two days, and it might be too late by then.

  When Aberration Management showed up, could Harper fly away? Join the rogues in the forest? Would Lilith help her? The thoughts swirled restlessly in Harper’s mind. Thinking about it made her livid all over again, and the strong emotions made her hungry. She stalked toward the
kitchen.

  It was lunchtime. The kitchen was still alive with chatter. It looked like Fletcher hadn’t gotten away from his crowd of the morbidly curious. He sat upright, but his smile flagged. He winced when he shifted in his chair. He put on a brave show for them. The wounded warrior.

  Harper got her food and skirted around the edge of the gathered circle, finding a seat apart so she could listen in. The conversation had progressed from the polite congratulations of this morning to more in-depth questions with a smaller crowd. He answered questions about the procedure. Did it hurt? Were you scared? How did they do it? He took each one so calmly, one would think it had happened to someone else.

  At one point, Harper glanced up as someone departed from the crowd to grab food, leaving an opening where she saw directly to Fletcher. He met her gaze and their eyes locked. His sadness was so deep Harper was afraid she might drown in it. In that moment, she glimpsed the extent of his injured soul, and then the gap closed, tightening the circle and blocking her view of Fletcher.

  Harper left her plate on the table, still mostly full. She wasn’t hungry anymore. She headed for the forest, planning to stick close to the cabin but needing some time alone. Wind ruffled her hair as she tromped through the grass. Her restless mind flickered between Fletcher and her conversations with Tyson and Lilith.

  When Harper had heard Quinn’s voice on the phone, she’d realized that she didn’t need Lilith’s plan anymore. She could leave the camp without ever touching the orb. But with Aberration Management coming for her, well, that changed things. Could the orb be her emergency plan?

  Harper thought of Fletcher, and Ian and Kamri, and all those awaiting Naturalization like it was the only option. With Lilith in charge, things would change faster than they did with Violet. Lilith would be willing to take the necessary risks. Was Harper willing to risk the price the orb would exact to save them and herself?

  Harper kicked at a rock and watched it bounce into the brush on the left side of the path. In the past, she’d kept to herself. She had bided her time with Quinn, waiting for their chance to escape foster care and find their parents together. Could she be more than that? Could she effect change for everyone in this cursed camp?

  Harper stopped walking, staring at the surrounding trees.

  She could leave. Do nothing but show up at the edge of the warded barrier around the camp and wait for Becca and Quinn to arrive with the device that would interrupt the magical frequency and break her out of here, hoping Aberration Management didn’t show up first. No need to use the orb, and she’d be in the clear.

  On the other hand, she could ask the orb where her parents were, use it for herself. Or she could get Violet and James out of their corrupt position of leadership and free the people that she would leave behind.

  Harper walked forward again, moving a little deeper into the forest now. A rock jutting into the path drew her eye and she made her way toward it. She perched on the hard, cool surface, rubbing her hands along it.

  “Can I sit here?”

  Fletcher’s voice.

  Harper closed her eyes. She couldn’t talk to him about this, and she didn’t want to talk to him about anything else. But that wasn’t fair; she had told Quinn she wanted to be here for Fletcher. Her friend. Perhaps, in another lifetime, something more. But that future was eradicated the moment he’d gone through with the Reformation.

  Fletcher sat down cross-legged with obvious effort and pain, adjacent to her spot on the grass. His fingers picked at the green blades, tugging a few from the ground and rubbing them between his fingers.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” The sun wavered across his hair where it broke through the canopy overhead. Was it just yesterday they had flown over it together?

  “I’ve been around.”

  “Oh, right.” His expression deflated. “I thought you might…want to talk.”

  “I’m not much of a talker.”

  “You talked plenty yesterday.”

  That was different. You were whole, then. I could pretend things were normal.

  Harper said nothing, glancing down at her fingers tracing the orange algae on the rock’s surface.

  Fletcher let out a long sigh. “I was afraid this would happen. You know, they warned me. They said some of my friends would get it and be happy for me, and that others…well, some of my friends have reacted the opposite.” He looked at her, then out across the field. “Some of them won’t even talk to me.”

  “Okay!” Harper stood up. “I get it. You’re upset because you think I’m upset. Well, you’re right, I am. What happened to you is wrong. The fact that you had no other choice, other than giving up your life, was wrong. We shouldn’t have to choose death or compliance. It’s abuse of the worst kind.” Her arms gestured wildly at the forest around them. “This place isn’t some day camp for people who are different. It’s a prison. The walls and chains might be invisible, but they’re there. You can’t convince me this is all good and right and wonderful just because it’s better than being hunted down and killed. We shouldn’t be comparing it with the past, but with what we deserve.”

  Harper had a thick, uncomfortable feeling in her chest as she stared at Fletcher. His face was so still, so calm, far more terrifying than if he argued his side with equal passion. His eyes seemed hollow when he finally responded.

  “You’re right.” A laugh escaped him, a harsh, cold kind of laugh she never expected to hear from someone as kind and cheerful as him. “You’re right about all of it, Harper.”

  “I am?”

  He climbed to his feet, tossing the wilted grass from his hand. “I walked into that room with confidence nothing could shake. I was nervous, nothing more. And then they asked me to shift. I complied. As soon as my wings came out and I saw the looks of fascination and shock on the doctors’ and nurses’ faces, I knew I was making a mistake. I wanted to walk straight out of that room and demand that James take me home. But I knew that I couldn’t come home, come here, to leave that place, without going through with the surgery.” He paused, breathing heavily. He looked down at his hands, then back to Harper. “They had a man in another room with the drugs for euthanization prepared for me. I either left there without my wings and went through with Naturalization, or I didn’t leave at all.” He swallowed, and his eyes took on the strain of someone trying not to cry.

  Euthanization. Lethal injection. What could Harper say to that? She held her face passive, but the emotion welled up inside of her, threatening to burst out in a hail of tears and rage. Her shoulder blades itched fiercely, her wings desperate to stretch and prove that they were there, that she was still whole, even if Fletcher wasn’t. But that would be cruel, to make him see her with wings outstretched, as if she were taunting him.

  Harper’s hand reached out automatically and touched his arm. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  He scoffed, kicking at the ground with his foot. “You don’t have to be. I made the choice, after all.”

  “The choice sucked.”

  “Yeah, I guess it did.” He sounded unconvinced, like he didn’t want to believe it.

  Harper wanted to comfort him. “At least you’ll see your family in tomorrow.” It was a desperate stab, and she was certain it had failed. “You can start life over. Completely new.”

  “Yeah,” he said again. His eyes didn’t light up like they did the last time they had talked about his family. “I talked with my dad on the phone. He says they’re excited to see me.” He choked on the words, and this time the tears escaped from his eyes, falling down his cheeks. His hand came up to his mouth, and he sniffed, then wiped his nose on his sleeve.

  “He said he’s proud of me. Mom too.” His voice was broken, and from the look of things, so was his heart.

  “It’s okay to be hurt.” The words came out of nowhere, but they felt right to say. “You’re going through something unimaginable right now. No one should expect more of you than to let you grieve your wings.
”

  Fletcher held his breath the way people do when they were keeping a dam of emotion beneath the surface. He managed it for a moment before the sobs broke free, and his entire face crumpled into an expression of such despair Harper could hardly stand to see it. He moved forward and practically fell into her. She leaned back, grasping him in her arms. His face pressed into her shoulder. Her hands gently patted his quivering back.

  The bandages beneath his shirt criss-crossed and wrapped his shoulder blades where his wings used to release each time he extended them. Harper’s eyes filled. She sniffed, keeping quiet so she didn’t distract from Fletcher’s grieving.

  No one had ever cried on her like this before; no one ever trusted her enough to bare their soul to her. No one had ever cared like Fletcher cared. It wasn’t right that this happened to him. And if Harper had any say in it, no one else would go through what he had again.

  Harper’s legs trembled, and she wondered how much longer she could take Fletcher’s weight. As if sensing her concern, he straightened. He smiled such a broken smile that she wanted to look away, but she knew that would be hurtful, so she offered a smile back as if everything was all right.

  “I knew you were the only one who could understand,” he said. “Everyone else thinks this is the greatest thing in the world. I want it to be that way for them, so they will make the right choice when their time comes, but damn, it’s hard.” Fletcher’s eyes filled up again, but the tears held this time.

  “You should have thought about that before you allowed them to mutilate you.” The harsh male voice penetrated the trees. Fletcher and Harper looked up at the same time and saw a man standing before them, his pose perfectly at ease, his expression intense. His bald head glinted with sunlight. It was one of the rogues from before—the werewolf that attacked Tyson. Clearly, her death song hadn’t been as fatal as she presumed.

  Harper jumped to her feet, wings flaring out of her back. She did it without thinking. Fletcher stood too. Seeing her wings might not have been the best thing for him, but if they were going to escape, Harper needed them. Her fists clenched at her sides.