Keeper of Crows (The Keeper of Crows Duology Book 1)

by Casey L. Bond

  In a split second my feet hit a smooth, stone floor. The room itself was empty, the stones on the wall rougher in texture than those beneath my feet. Aside from a window adorned with white, fluttering curtains that hung the length of the wall, it was as empty as I felt, even standing next to someone else.

  Was it a talent of his? Making a person feel more alone in his presence than they would if they were actually by themselves? Despite my roiling thoughts, Father didn’t spare a glance in my direction. The stony expression on his face never faltered, so I was fairly sure he couldn’t hear me. It was called Angel stone; not crosser stone or the stone of the antichrist, so it probably didn’t work on him. He simply didn’t care to listen.

  He began walking toward the window. “Are you ready to look upon your subjects?”

  “They’re yours, not mine.”

  He grinned finally. “They will be yours. I will teach you everything.”

  “Why do you need a successor? Are you planning to leave this place?”

  “No, I simply decided to give you a tiny slice of power, as is your birthright.”

  He moved through the curtains and into the light beyond it. When I touched the sheer fabric, parting it and stepping through, I found myself on a large balcony. It was like the most macabre fairy tale; an evil king ruling a land that wasn’t meant to be ruled, asking his daughter to join him in his insatiable quest for power.

  If he’d asked me to learn the pharmaceutical business, that would have been normal; simply a father passing down his knowledge to his only child. Only Father wasn’t a normal father. He was the antichrist, evil incarnate, building an empire. Why he and his city hadn’t already been leveled was something I couldn’t understand.

  I stared at him.

  Father didn’t look a day over forty-five. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short. He looked the part of the sophisticated multi-millionaire instead of wearing long, tattered robes or cloaks that would better fit the scene. He smelled like the cologne he always wore on Earth, like exotic spices mixed with the sea, like money. I eased toward the edge, keeping a safe distance between us. He might try to kill me, shove me over the edge where I would plummet to my death.

  His sharp eyes watched my movements. “I didn’t bring you here to kill you, Carmen.”

  “But you nearly killed me to get me here, so pardon me if I don’t exactly trust you. You’ve lied to me my entire life.”

  “Fair enough.” He leaned his elbows on the stones along the edge of the balcony and peered down below him. “I’m sure you understand now that there was no other way for me to get you here. There are rules. Humans can’t pass through, but souls can. I needed you in this form, and Dimitri was able to deliver you to me.”

  I followed his eyes and gasped. It was like looking at New York City from the top of the Empire State building. There were buildings everywhere, crumbling and tagged with graffiti. People—souls—walked along the streets. Some lingered in front of doors and alleyways.

  He nodded his head to the scene in front of us. “That is the north end.” Pointing behind us, he added, “South end is that way.” Pointing to the left, he instructed, “And that is the west end. Those three are mostly comprised of ordinary souls. To the east is the Red District, more commonly referred to as the Meat Market. I trust that the Keeper told you all about that lovely place?”

  I looked east and saw barely-clad women and the men who lingered around looking at them on the streets in broad daylight. There was a large platform filled with trembling souls. I could see their shapes distort even from this distance. The souls were terrified, and the horror of that place radiated everywhere else. It seemed like the Meat Market was expanding, encroaching to the south as well. Business was booming. The thought of my mother in the thick of it all sickened me.

  “Did you send Gus and Chester after me?”

  “I didn’t send them there for you, though I did grant them the power to cross over and gather a soul. The fact that you intervened was purely a convenient coincidence. They felt the fissure, crossed, and found the other soul. You got involved when you shouldn’t have. Not that it would have mattered. I would have soon dispatched someone to get you anyway.”

  “You would have had to wait for a fissure.”

  “The one of whom I speak has no need of a fissure.”

  Michael said my father was the only crosser left. Either he was lying, or something worse than a crosser was coming after me.

  “Oh, and that was a good touch, using Doc to poison me. I actually trusted him, so you shattered that faith. But then again, I guess that’s what you’re best at.”

  He smiled. He actually fucking smiled at me. “I hope you can see past all of the difficulty and appreciate what I’ve done. I could have sat here in Purgatory, minding my own business, but you don’t know what it was like before. Purgatory was not a resting place, as I’m sure the angels tried to feed you. It was a lesser step up from Hell, and not a far one. Souls were being tortured.”

  “They still are, from the looks of it,” I said, staring in the direction of the Meat Market. It was truly sad. All of it.

  “There are problems, but nothing like it was before. Demons ruled this place, while the angels turned their heads and let them break souls, bit by bit. When the veil was torn, I saw an opportunity and took it. A few others did, too.”

  “Where are the others?” I asked.

  He stood up straight and adjusted the lapels of his jacket, answering in a disinterested tone, “I ended them.”

  “There isn’t room for more than one ruler, right?”

  “Precisely.”

  “So do you plan to end me, too?”

  He shook his head slowly. “If you don’t give me a reason to, then no. Let me explain. I don’t want you to succeed me; I want you to rule beneath me. When I win the presidency on Earth, I’ll have to be gone for long periods of time. However, I can’t risk losing all I’ve built here. I need you to manage it in my absence. You’ll have just enough power to help, but not enough to hinder. I know you. You only care about yourself.”

  Oh, I wanted to hinder. I wanted to hinder him six feet into the soil. Wondering who in their right minds would be stupid enough to vote for a man like him, I remembered the crowds who came to hear him speak, to hear the lie-filled rhetoric. He told them what they wanted to hear. He would make sure they had jobs. He would make sure the country was secure, that their families would thrive and be safe. Promising that the government would help them with their every need, he ignored the questions about funding, his background, and his stances on turbulent issues, and charged ahead with empty promises, never answering how he would actually make them come true. And the people loved him for it. They loved hope, and that was what my father gave them. He was hope in a handsome suit, with sparkling white teeth and a boldly colored tie. If he could drag himself from the lower-middle class and come out on top of a multi-billion dollar industry, they could trust him to better their stance as well.

  He would wave and kiss babies, pose for photo opportunities, and stand shoulder to shoulder with the average working-class man and woman. All the while, he hammered my mother into the ground, drugged her and programmed the detonator, waiting for her to self-destruct. He did the same to me.

  There was no shortage of casualties where my father was concerned. If someone got in his way, they mysteriously disappeared. Did he drag them here? Enslave them? The blood pulsed angrily along the column of my throat. I clenched my hands and stared at the sky as it darkened, angry clouds building overhead. Then the crows came.

  “You must have made quite an impression on the Keeper, Carmen. I’m pleasantly surprised. I’ve been trying to lure him here for years.”

  There it was. He was using me as Keeper bait. I wanted nothing more than for Michael to run as far from this man, this castle, and this city as possible. I never wanted him to stop or look back. He might turn into a pillar of salt. If I could keep my father from hurting him…

  “Wi
ll I be able to cross the divide, too?” I asked.

  “What?” He looked at me, his attention diverted from the circling birds above.

  “When you give me power, can I cross back and forth?”

  He crossed his arms, the suit jacket he wore bunching around his biceps. “You would stay here.”

  “What if the press asked where I was?” He loved media attention. My father prescribed to the ideal that there was no bad press. My car wreck? Everyone had problems. Send her to rehab and fix her. His affairs? He was trapped in a loveless marriage with an alcoholic. Why shouldn’t he have the chance to be happy? Spin, spin, spin. It was all about the spin of things.

  “Do you intend to keep my body alive on Earth?”

  The crows descended slowly. Michael was in the city, but not in the castle yet. I couldn’t feel him, his electricity.

  “No, your earthly body will die. Your soul will then be free to remain in Purgatory.”

  “What if I want to see my friends?”

  He smiled pityingly. “You have no friends, Carmen. You never have.”

  Unfortunately, he was right, and I had nothing to distract him with. Except for my mother.

  “Why did you hurt Mom? Did you know she would kill herself? When she ended up here, why did you make her a slave?”

  “I’ve lived for so long, and I’ve had many women, but your mother was the most difficult. Once the addictions kicked in, it was easier to manipulate her, but she determined her own fate by betraying me.”

  “You killed her! How could she possibly have betrayed you?” my voice rose, shaking with rage.

  “She mailed information to the press – confidential documents she stole from my office, mind you – but I paid the newspapers enough to cover it all up. But none of that is important now. You need to decide whether you are with me or against me, Carmen. With one choice, your soul lives, and with the other, I dispatch it. Only angels can dispatch souls to either Heaven or Hell. I have no power over Heaven. I can only send you to be with your mother.”

  He thought Mom was in Hell, but he was fucking wrong. However, I had to make him think I was on his side. That way I could tear his kingdom completely apart.

  A mass shriek from below drew our attention. “They’re breaching the gates!” someone yelled. “Run!”

  Father smirked. “It’s time to end the segregation of this place. The Lessons deserve to live in the luxury that only the city can provide.”

  “The Lessons are in the city?” I suppressed a shudder, remembering the soulless eyes of the ones who still had them, the dripping tar and translucent, pale flesh, the veins rolling blue and purple beneath the surface. The stench of their gray flesh, the tip of each finger dark and decayed. The strength in their hands. They were people who should have no rest. Father was right about that. They should have gone straight to Hell where they belonged, but then he would have no army, no one to fight for him.

  “I called them,” he sneered. “The Keeper can’t fight them all at once, and if he’s distracted by you, I can finally get rid of him.”

  Father flicked his hand toward me, and in an instant I was transformed. A black, strapless silk ball gown hugged my body, the layers spilling away from my hips. Heavy diamonds hung from my ears and neck. My hair.... I had hair. Reaching a hand up, I expected to feel soft spikes of hair. Instead, I found that it was long and pinned to the crown of my head.

  “How did you...?” I couldn’t see it all, but before the accident that wasn’t an accident, my hair was bleached blonde. Now the tendrils that hung in curls were dark as death, matching the strands my mother wore before age threaded her head with silver. “Thank you.” I beamed at him, hoping he bought my bullshit.

  He smiled in response.

  I need the Lessons to leave the city, I thought, pinching my lip as the screams below continued.

  Father was entranced with the firework show. The Lessons were killing souls everywhere, the wisps of what remained flying into the air, one after another.

  A heavy thump came from behind. “Stop the Lessons. Call them back. Now,” Michael commanded my father as his crows stood along the parapet wall, waiting for further instruction.

  Father turned around, filling the air with a slow clap. “If I’d known you’d show up here with just a little nudge of the Lessons, I’d have done it years ago. Or is that why you’re here? If you hadn’t grown so attached to Carmen, I think you’d still be slinking along the outskirts, petting your birds.”

  A single crow cawed at him angrily, and soon they all joined the chorus.

  22

  The two stared each other down for several long moments, and Michael again ordered Father to stop the Lessons. “Last chance,” he warned. Shrieking and screams from the city below made my hair stand on end. The souls were under attack, and by the sounds of it, they weren’t winning the battle.

  “Did Michael tell you why he’s here, Carmen? Your archangel is being taught a lesson of his own.”

  My mouth opened as I looked to the archangel. “What? What for?”

  “For losing sight of what’s important. For allowing a human to distract him, a woman, to be exact. He didn’t lose his wings when he came to this place. They were stripped from him and turned into a curse that he will bear until he learns his lesson. The fact that he’s fallen for you is proof that he’s learned nothing at all. At this rate, he’ll never leave.” Father smiled, zeroing in on Michael. “I’ve been waiting to finish you for what feels like an eternity.” In his hand, a black, glistening blade appeared. “Now, not only can I kill you, I can send you straight to Hell.”

  “The sword of Lucifer,” Michael whispered, but nothing on the warrior’s face indicated that he was frightened. “What did you offer him to get that? Your soul is already forfeit.”

  “Lucifer has helped me in ways you couldn’t begin to understand, angel. And, for the record, it wasn’t my soul I promised him,” Father enunciated, glancing toward me.

  Michael growled as he grabbed the hilt of the broadsword from his back, his tattoos churning tumultuously. The archangel was about to unleash Hell on my father. That part I didn’t mind, but if Michael was struck with the sword of Lucifer… Michael was an angel, but with that sword, he would die. Could he truly be sent to Hell? Was Father telling the truth? I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t live with that. I had to do something.

  I rushed in between them, hands outstretched. Michael’s eyes collided with mine, the dark irises fading to cornflower blue. With my mind, I called the fissure to appear. The Earth shook and the veil appeared, a fissure slicing through it, brightly lit from behind.

  “I love you, Michael, but you can’t stay here. Not anymore. You’ve given enough to this place.” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes telling me he knew I was betraying him. “I’m sorry,” I told him, my throat clogged with tears, and then I shoved him hard through the opening. He lost his balance and tumbled backward into the earthen realm, an angel without wings. I screamed into the sliver of light, “No matter what!”

  He probably thought I’d been lying to him all along, that Malchazze controlled me only to get close to him and learn his secrets. Fighting back the tears that were forming, I focused on the real problem at hand. Maybe somehow, someday, Michael would understand and forgive me.

  I had to free him. I had to protect him. I had to give him a life worth living, because it wasn’t here. Michael was prepared to die for me, but I couldn’t let that happen. He might think me worthy, but I knew I wasn’t. Michael deserved to live. He couldn’t defeat Malchazze without orders, but I could. And I had every intention of doing so.

  Somehow, in a short span of time, my heart claimed the archangel who defended her, and she wouldn’t survive if he didn’t.

  “It’s true,” Father marveled. “You are part of the veil…” His eyes sparkled with the possibilities my curse presented him. I watched as the birds swirled again, and with my mind, I called them, praying they would listen, hear, and obey.

/>   Whether it was me or the fact that their master loved me, they came to my defense. The crows descended upon my father. I stuck my hands into the fabric of the veil and closed my eyes.

  “Solidify. Become stone. I need you to close, to mend, and to stop letting evil pricks through this fabric. No more fissures. No more crossers. Michael should be freed. This has to stop.” And just like that, everything went silent. The fabric no longer circulated around my hands. It became solid. It had become like stone, just as I’d asked. I had to break a few pieces off just to free my fingers. The crows stilled.

  Father’s mouth shook as it hung open in surprise. “What have you done?”

  “I fixed the veil. Now, you’re stuck here. You’re trapped. Just like me.”

  He scrambled to his feet. “But how? Unseal it!”

  I laughed, shaking my head. He wouldn’t manipulate me any further. “I’m stronger than you ever could have made me. I am part of the veil now. It obeys me. And only me.” I felt the cold seeping into my veins, feeding into my heart where it recirculated. Soon, frost was all I could feel. Frost and gray and emptiness.

  The crows should dispatch you, send your soul where it belongs, I silently vowed. I want to see the light fade from your eyes, the awareness as you are sent straight to Hell. And I want you to know that it’s me sending you there.

  The birds angrily snapped at his face as by the thousands they swooped at him, sending sharp needles straight into his traitorous heart, a circle of dark feathers protruding from his chest. A wisp of smoke filtered from among the ebony vanes. It floated lazily until a crow, one of my crows, gulped it down and flew away with it. I left my father’s prone body lying propped against the parapet stones, but I slid the sword of Lucifer out of his hand and walked away with it.

  23

  MICHAEL

  The ground shook so violently, I thought the balcony would break off the face of the castle and take us with it as it fell. I saw the fissure appear just behind me and knew it wasn’t a coincidence. I thought it was Malchazze who made it. I was wrong.