“What’s wrong with you, beautiful?” I asked. The raven tried to lift its wing, but could only move it a tiny bit. It hung its head, squawking again as if to assure itself that I was a friend. It was then I noticed that the beautiful jet-black feathers around the wing were matted with blood.
“You poor thing,” I cooed, feeling foolish. As if the bird could hear me. But my voice seemed to calm it, for it hung its head again, and with a squawk of effort, lifted the edge of its wing to reveal its leg. I saw a nasty wound near the top of the thigh, a long gash that was oozing blood. Many feathers had fallen out, and those that hadn’t were snapped and coated with blood. It had clearly been attacked by something – a dog, perhaps? Sometimes people left their dogs off the leash in the park, even though the council signs prohibited it.
The bird blinked as its eyes followed my gaze, and it gave a sad caw. My heart broke to see such a beautiful creature in pain like that. I can’t believe some bastard let his dog do this and then just walked away and left the raven to die. Well, I wouldn’t leave the bird alone. I would do my good deed for the day, after all.
I glanced around me, but there was no one else in the park. Thinking quickly, I rushed back to the bench and grabbed the empty bread box. It would be a tight fit, but I might be able to get him (I was already thinking of the raven as a him, even though I knew nothing about raven anatomy) inside.
“Here you go, big guy.” The raven’s eyes followed me as I set the box down beside him. He didn’t try to move as I pushed my fists into the ends of my jumper, shoved my hands underneath his body, lifted him gingerly from the dirt and placed him in the box. His feathers felt soft and silky through my jumper. He looked up at me with pain-filled eyes, and let out a little squawk of thanks.
“C’mon, boy. Let’s get you out of here.” I ran back to the seat, picked up my bag and threw the rest of the custard square to the ducks, then hiked back across the grass with my bag under one arm, and a squawking raven under the other.
I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do with the raven, but I figured I’d get him back to my place first, and then figure out my next step. I should call the vet. Yes, that’s a good idea. Vets know about all sorts of animals, including parrots and chickens. A raven should be similar to a chicken, right?
People gave me strange looks as I weaved through the streets with a large, croaking raven in a bread box. While I waited for the traffic light on Oxford Street to turn red so I could cross, I fumbled one-handed in my bag for my phone, and dialled the local vet.
He picked up on the second ring. I took a deep breath, not certain how I was going to explain. “Hi Barry, it’s Belinda Wu.”
“Oh, Belinda, hello! I haven’t seen you or Chairman Meow at the clinic for ages. I was meaning to tell you, those cat cupcakes you made for the RSPCA luncheon went down a treat. We’re sponsoring a dog show in a few weeks and I’d love to chat to you about—”
“Yes, yes, thank you. I can definitely work something out if you get Carol to call me with the details. Listen Barry, I’ve got a bit of an emergency, and it’s not the Chairman this time. I’m actually holding a raven.”
“A … raven?”
“Yeah, I’m on Oxford Street, and I’ve got a raven in a box.” My little black friend was becoming quite distressed with all the cars zooming past. His head whipped back and forth, and he started squawking loudly. A mother pushing a wailing baby in a pram glanced up at me with an odd look on her face. I gave her a shrug, as if we shared some kind of similar affliction, her with her baby and me with my corvid. The light turned red and I started walking slowly across the road, the phone pressed awkwardly between my ear and shoulder while I used both hands to steady the box. “I found him in Fauntelroy Park. Or her. I guess I don’t really know much about raven genders. His leg is quite badly damaged. Can I bring him in?”
“Sure.” Barry paused. “It’s after hours, so—”
My heart fell. I could barely afford a vet visit, let alone an after-hours visit. “Um, right. Well, could you maybe help me out just this once? This isn’t exactly my pet raven, you see—”
“Sorry, kid. I’m at home now, and Janice is pretty strict with the books these days, after everything that happened.” Barry used to be a client of AE Accountancy, the firm owned by Ethan’s friend Clive. So Barry had his own financial problems. “But I’ll tell you what, if you keep that bird alive until morning, I’ll come in twenty minutes early and see you first thing, and I won’t charge you for the full visit. How would that work?”
“That would be great, except I don’t know anything about nursing ravens.”
“Just clean up the wound and make the bird comfortable. And keep him away from Chairman Meow. Do you have any antiseptic—”
A car honked loudly. I jumped. The raven squawked in terror, and managed to free its second wing from the edge of the box. With a flap, it toppled over the side and landed on the road.
“That’s great, thanks Barry!” I yelped, and hung up. Heart pounding, I raced back across the road after the bird, dodging around the bonnet of a Fiat. I dived for the raven, but even with only one functioning wing, it was fast. Its silky feathers slipped through my fingers, and it hobbled back toward the park, heedless to the traffic trying to come around the corner.
Please don’t let him get run over, I prayed to whatever god was listening as I dashed back through the moving traffic. I think Odin has something to do with ravens. Odin, please help us both get out of this alive.
Now all the cars behind me were honking. The raven hopped back toward the curb, squawking at the top of its lungs. A cyclist raced around the corner, and the bird barely managed to jump out of the way in time.
Squawk! The raven cried defiantly, raising a wing in the air and shaking it, almost as if it were expressing its indignation.
“What the fuck are you doing?” A driver called out as I stepped in front of him. Ignoring the honks and insults that were now pouring out of rolled-down windows, I lunged for the bird. He hopped out of the way at the last moment, limping directly into the path of another car.
“Just let me get my raven!” I cried to the driver, who slammed on the brakes just as I lunged for the bird again. This time, he flapped his wings and managed to hop a couple of feet into the air, hitting the car’s radiator before coming crashing down again. As he tumbled across the curb, I managed to grab him, push his wings down, and shove him back in the box.
“Why would you do that, you idiot!” I growled, as I held the box tightly. The raven cooed in reply. Traffic poured through the intersection, drivers holding their middle fingers out of the car windows as they hurtled past. My pounding heart slowed again. I was safe. The raven had lost a few more feathers, but was otherwise safe, too. Everything was OK.
I unlocked the shop, and went straight up the steps at the back of the kitchen to my apartment. Chairman Meow greeted me at the door in his usual way, by wrapping his fat, fluffy body around my ankles and rubbing his face merrily against my legs. He stopped mid-rub as he noticed the box in my hands. His eyes grew as big as saucers. He stood on his hind legs and tapped the side of the box.
CROAK! The raven snapped back, flapping its working wing madly. The Chairman darted away. He hid behind the kitchen cabinet, his little nose twitching as he smelled the strange visitor I’d brought home. The raven flung itself madly in circles as it tried to hop out of the box again. Chairman Meow flattened his ears against the back of his head, and crouched low on the floor. This wasn’t going to end well.
“Sorry boy, he’s not for you.” I set the box on the table, picked up the Chairman by the scruff of his neck, and locked him in the bathroom. He raked his claws against the door, loudly protesting at my cruel treatment. How dare I deprive him of the most interesting thing to happen all week? He didn’t want to kill the raven. He just wanted to be friends.
Which was probably true. Despite his name, Chairman Meow was a bit of a pacifist. He liked to chase butterflies around the alleyway out the
back of the shop and watch the birds from the window, but he didn’t have much interest in killing anything. Which was somewhat annoying, since I’d bought him from Barry originally because I thought he’d help keep down the mouse population in the bakery. Instead, he liked to watch with saucer eyes from the top of the stairs while the mice made little white flour-trails across the kitchen below.
But the raven didn’t know that, and it was going crazy, flapping its wings and trying to leap out of the box. Blood splattered from the wound in its leg, and I could see a pool of blood in the box underneath it. I needed to clean the wound before I did anything else.
I dug out the first aid kit from the cupboard and set it down on the counter. With one hand, I held the raven down as gently as possible, while I cleaned off the dried blood caked around the wound in the raven’s leg. I noticed that black ring again. One of the local conservation groups must’ve been tagging the birds. I wondered if they’d come looking for him.
It was strange, but as soon as the raven saw me coming toward it with the swab, it relaxed. It was almost as if the bird knew I was trying to help it.
Sadly, I wasn’t sure how much I could do. Even after cleaning it, the wound looked pretty bad, and when I touched the skin around the cut, it felt hot. Maybe I should take him to the vet after all?
But then I remembered my overdraft, and the fact that the cupboard was nearly empty and the only furniture in the room was an electric frying pan and a couch I’d found on the side of the road. I had 100 quid left to last me the rest of the month. Even the vet visit was going to be a stretch, never mind an after-hours fee.
“I’m sorry, little guy … or girl.” I told the bird. “It’s just your luck to be rescued by a hard-luck baker. But luckily, I have plenty of bread.”
The raven croaked a reply. I almost imagined it saying, “That’s OK. Now, tell me about this bread?”
I wrapped the raven’s leg with some gauze, and left it hopping around on the table while I went downstairs to my storage area. I found a larger cardboard box, poked some holes in the top to serve as air vents, and lined it with paper. Then, I filled a saucer with water, and another with torn up bits of brioche, a few chopped nuts, a dollop of peanut butter, and half an apple. I found an old dishcloth under the sink, and bundled that up in the corner, making a kind of nest.
“Here you go,” I set the box on the ground at the end of the couch and lowered the bird down into it. “I’m sorry it’s not the Ritz, but it’s got to be better than that tree in the park.”
The raven nodded his head in agreement. He hopped over to the water dish and took a drink. I knew that was a good sign. Then, to my astonishment, the bird pecked at the peanut butter, smearing a streak down the side of his beak. He looked up at me, his beady eyes focused on mine, and I swear he gave me a kind of grin.
“So you like peanut butter, huh?” I leaned over and added another dollop to his bowl, then I spread peanut butter on the other half of the apple. That wasn’t for the raven, but for myself. I sat down beside the box and chewed on the apple as I watched the bird explore his new surroundings. “So do I. I already like you better than my last boyfriend. He was allergic to nuts.”
The raven regarded me with those piercing brown eyes. It nodded its head slowly. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was agreeing with me.
Now that the raven was safely in a proper box, I could let Chairman Meow out of the bathroom. He’d clawed a lovely long gash out of the moulding in his desperation to reach me, but as soon as I opened the door he jumped on top of the shower and started washing his paws, as if he couldn’t care less what was going on outside. Cats. There was no sense in trying to understand them.
I set the raven’s box on the stairs and kept an eye on him while I made batches of cookies, cupcakes and some chocolate eclairs for the following day. He let me feed him pieces of bread from my hand, and by the time I had finished he looked much healthier.
I glanced at my watch. 10:07pm. It was later than I liked to go to bed, but all the excitement with the raven had put me behind schedule. I still had food to prepare for tomorrow, but my eyes were already drooping, so I decided to just go to sleep.
I carried the raven back upstairs and set the box down beside the kitchen bench. I refreshed his water, and gave him another small lump of peanut butter. He seemed to have perked up a bit, and was even attempting to stand on his bad leg, albeit unsuccessfully. “You’ll be OK out here for the night,” I told him. “I’m going to shut Chairman Meow in the bedroom with me, so he won’t disturb you. And in the morning, I’ll take you to Barry and he should be able to fix you up good and proper.”
The raven squawked in reply, nodded its head, and settled into the dishcloth. He stared up at me with those wide eyes, and I could almost imagine him telling me, “Goodnight.”
Despite all my problems, for the first night in ages, I went to bed with a smile on my face.
4
Cole
Well, this is an interesting development.
I paced around my large, dark box, my eyes having no trouble penetrating the gloom. I lifted my wing to examine my leg, and slid my beak over the feathers to remove a tiny bit of dried blood. She’d done a really great job cleaning it off. The wound no longer felt hot, now it just throbbed with a dull ache, which wasn’t nearly as bad as the pain caused by the glowing ring, but I could ignore even that for now.
I was alive. It was a miracle. If things keep going my way, and that cat doesn’t eat me, I may just get out of here with my life.
I couldn’t believe I’d managed to escape from Pax and Poe. And now to end up here, warm and dry, and safe, with the woman I’d been fantasizing about all day … it was almost perfect.
The ache in my bones intensified. The ring around my wing seemed to shrink, constricting around me, reminding me that nothing could be perfect, not while I was a slave.
I hadn’t planned to go rogue. Nothing was prepared. I didn’t even know if Mikael would be able to find the witch … and until he did, I had no way to break the spell that bound me to Morchard. Or that would bind me to Gillespie come Sunday. This pain was just going to keep getting worse, until eventually it consumed me completely.
But I’d just … snapped. And now it was too late. I couldn’t go back. I wouldn’t. I would find a way to be free, or die trying.
I winced as my leg twinged. Pax really had cut me up bad. He was a good friend to have when he was on your side, but he was loyal to his master, which meant he was not someone I wanted to see again any time soon.
After Pax had sliced my leg, I’d landed hard on the ground. I’d been stunned for a few minutes, unable to move or even open my eyes. I thought for certain they would have found me and finished me off, but by some miracle I’d fallen straight through the thick foliage of an oak tree, and now that same tree had hidden me from view. As soon as I could move again, I’d dragged myself further under the tree root just as Pax, Poe and Byron had swooped down to hunt for my body.
So Byron had been around, no doubt hanging back while Pax and Poe brought me down. He always was a coward.
“I saw something splash in the water,” Byron had said to the others in caw-tongue. He’d sounded worried. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to direct them to give me up for dead, or if he really did think he’d seen me fall into the pond. Either way, I was grateful. I’d pulled myself as far under the root as I could get, and had tried to fold my body up as small as it could go.
They’d done several low passes through the park, scattering the ducks in their wake. Finally, I’d heard Pax call out. “You must be right. He’s in the water. He’s a goner.” And then they’d flown away, back to the castle to inform Morchard about my death.
I wasn’t dead, but my leg was bleeding quite badly and I knew it was only a matter of time before someone walked past with a big dumb dog off its leash and then I really would be a goner. So I’d called out for help, hoping I might be picked up by some well-meaning and dogless citizen.
>
And of all the people to rescue me, of all the people I could have unintentionally involved in this mess, it had to be her. The girl from the bakery with the sad eyes and the stunning body and the pale skin that looked so adorable when I made her blush.
She was beautiful, and she was clearly talented. That Heaven and Hell Cake looked like it belonged in the Louvre. But the bakery girl was so shy she couldn’t even react to my teasing. She just turned an adorable shade of red and completely shut down. She went for walks in the park by herself. She lived in a flat with no furniture. Something was clearly not right in her life, and she didn’t need someone like me hanging around. She didn’t need to be brought into my world, especially not now when it was so dangerous.
As much as I might need someone like her.
I gobbled up the last of the peanut butter, and started on the apple. I was lucky that in Bran form I didn’t need as much food to give me energy as in human form. I was going to need all the energy I could get just to keep moving through the pain.
The desire to stay and find out more about the mysterious bakery girl was overwhelming. But I had to get out of here, for her sake. She looked as if she couldn’t deal with any more tragedy in her life, and I would bring her nothing but woe.
I have to leave, and I have to do it now. Because if I see her again, I’m going to stay. And that would be very, very bad. And not just because she was planning to take me to a vet.
Watcher: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 1) Page 4
