The White Raven

by Carrie D. Miller

  “I’m tempted to take her to the hospital,” Cal says.

  Sylvia shakes her head. “That won’t do any good. I did as Aven asked, though. I’ve spoken to Grandma’s coven, well, Aunt Claudia’s coven, and they are discussing what they think they can do. Which means they can’t, or won’t, do anything if you ask me. Bitches. Coven rules are so fucking stupid.”

  Cal looks at her, confused, and then to me when she doesn’t elaborate. “Some covens stay within themselves. Jo’s family’s coven has always been very private and secretive. They won’t help anyone who isn’t a member,” I say. “Even though Jo is blood, she gave up their particular tradition and left the coven long ago and was essentially shunned.”

  “Well, that’s just stupid.” Cal scowls at the coffee table.

  “Agreed,” I say, nodding, “but honestly, I don’t think there is anything they could do for her.”

  “Yeah, because you know everything,” Sylvia mumbles under her breath. My mouth falls open.

  “Sylvia!” Cal snaps.

  “Oh, come on!” She leans forward, fingers digging into the armrests, glaring at Cal. “It’s her fault to begin with!” She throws herself from the chair and flings the front door open. It slams behind her, rattling the glass panes.

  Cal stares in her direction. I sink back into the chair.

  “She’s right,” I say weakly.

  “Sylvia’s just upset and scared for her mother. She doesn’t mean it.”

  I know she’s scared; I am scared. Her mother is her best friend, and I don’t blame her for being upset with me. I would be if the roles were reversed. Feeling helpless as I do, I’m angrier at myself than Sylvia could ever be.

  36

  I wake with a start. There is noise about me. It is dark. How long have I slept? I hear the shuffling of wet leaves. I cannot move; my body is stiff and weak. The sound moves closer; it is alongside the log now. I hold my breath, willing the creature to keep moving. My heart is beating so loudly, I’m sure it can hear it.

  In an instant, the opening of the log is filled with a furry head. Its glossy, beady eyes lock onto mine. Its nose sniffs the air rapidly; it grunts and pushes itself deeper into the log. I cannot move. My throat makes a sound and the animal stops for a few seconds. I shriek when it lunges forward, trying to push its large body further in. I see sharp white teeth despite the darkness. They seem to glow even though there is little light. Its snarling mouth is closer to me, its breath is hot and foul. I try to wriggle backward but I am caught. Something at my chest is caught on a splinter of wood. I pull backward as hard as I can, my clawed feet slipping in the slimy moss.

  My beak shoots out, catching the animal in its tender nose. It cries out and pulls back. I scream at it, again and again. One more attempt to get at me and I draw blood this time; I can smell it. The animal shrieks and pulls out once more, shaking its head violently. With a final cry, it disappears into the night.

  I cannot catch my breath; I fear I may faint. My heart pounds in my chest, and I panic when I finally realize I am caught fast. The thing around my chest is foreign to me; it’s firmly trapped within jagged splinters of the log. I pull and pull. I must get free! I must get to my woman.

  What? My what? My woman? I stop struggling. I feel dizzy. My mind is swirling with thoughts and images I do not remember. They fly across my eyes faster and faster and my brain hurts with the sight of them. I shriek and shake my head, wishing this onslaught to be gone.

  As quickly as they came, they are gone now, done. And I remember me.

  37

  I wake with a start. A hot lick of fear travels down my spine, but the rest of my body shivers. It is dark outside and no candles remain lit in the room. I must have fallen asleep on the sofa. My eyes dart around the room. It is empty. The fear fades quickly, but I am still cold. I pull the afghan tighter around me and hug my knees to my chest. Reality crashes back in, and I remember where I am and why. Guilt floods over me once again as I recall Sylvia’s angry words. When she returned later in the evening, she did not look at me and went straight to Jo’s bedroom.

  Cal left reluctantly hours ago. He must be in Worcester for an early meeting. He wanted to call his sister to take his place, but I insisted he go.

  I close my eyes. Oh, Jo, Jo. My dear friend. How can I help you? Please, please speak to me.

  Sounds of movement from Jo’s room get my attention, and I am up in a flash. I stand in the doorway, panting. Sylvia is repositioning the pillows around Jo’s head. My heart sinks. Sylvia stops when she sees me. It’s too dark for me to see her face, but I know that she has been crying. She steps towards me and I close the gap, wrapping my arms around her. She sobs and hugs me tight, murmuring apologies, and I tell her to hush. Maggie is up beside us, wagging her tail, offering a bright face to cheer us.

  I stroke Sylvia’s hair as she cries and sway her from side to side. When her chest stops heaving, I offer to make her some hot tea. She nods against my chest, and I guide her into the living room. Maggie stays behind, resuming her post at the side of the bed. I give her a big smile and mouth a thank you. Her tail beats silently against the floor.

  We take our lavender and lemon herb tea to the table under the white ash tree. We sip it in silence, listening to the sounds of nature around us. Dawn peeks above the horizon and sounds of the city coming to life follow the sun’s ascent.

  “Can I make you something to eat?”

  “Not hungry,” Sylvia says shortly, staring at her empty mug. Deep shadows lie under her eyes, like bruises.

  “How long it has been since you’ve had a proper sleep, or even eaten?”

  She shrugs. I stare at the mug for a moment, and it fills with warm chicken broth. She notices the steam and gives it a sniff, wrinkling her nose.

  “Please drink it,” I say in my best motherly tone. “Don’t waste magickal broth.”

  She snorts and the edges of her mouth twitch. She takes a few sips and sighs, resting the edge of the mug against her chin.

  The chill of the morning air goes unnoticed as we sit in our melancholy state, saying nothing but soothed by each other’s presence. After a time, the chill settles in so we go inside.

  “Okay, I’ll take some pancakes.” Sylvia lies down on the sofa. “Since you offered.”

  I’m glad she is hungry. At the mention of pancakes, my stomach growls. I can’t remember the last time I ate.

  When the sun is high in the sky, we set about repositioning Jo. We massage her arms and legs, and bathe her face, hands, and feet with warm water. This is done in silence.

  The day drags, almost painfully. Cal calls several times to check in; I wish I had better news to give him. He will be back very late. An update from the fairies yields no positive news; I am surprised they are so downcast. I hadn’t realized just how fond of Ren they were. What upsets them more, I think, is that they have neither heard nor seen anything. They do not like to fail. I insist this is not failure—that patience is needed. Fairies are not known for their patience. Their commitment gladdens my heart.

  By the time the sun starts its descent, I decide to take a journey into the Veil. I doubt anything will come of it, but standing idle and feeling helpless is pure agony. I am just crossing the street from Jo’s home when I hear something that makes me stop in the middle of the road. As I turn towards the sound, a car horn blares at me. I glare at the driver, and she flinches under my gaze. I hear the sound again. Yes! It’s definitely the cry of a raven!

  I run towards the sound, back towards Jo’s house. My heart is racing faster than my feet. I tune out the noises around me and focus on that one sound. It’s getting closer. I run with my eyes on the sky. There’s a white flash over a three-story house in front of me. I call out and my call is answered. I hoot with glee. It’s Ren! I turn and chase her call. I am in Jo’s yard when I catch sight of her; she is crying out with every beat of her wings. At the sight of her, my eyes fill with tears, and I fear my heart will burst. She curves around and comes at me. I am
laughing and jumping; the charm glints on her chest. She lands hard on the fence railing, digging her talons into the wood to steady herself.

  I can’t resist touching her, hugging her gently and kissing her head. She doesn’t shy away from my affection. She pushes her head against my lips and gurgles softly in her throat.

  “Where have you been?” I am out of breath.

  She shakes her head. I do not know. East. I flew east but where I cannot say. A long way. Long way!

  Ren pants rapidly, her little heart racing. I want to pepper her with more questions, but I leave it for another time. She must rest. I ask when she’s last eaten, but she does not know. I invite her inside, tempting her with fresh berries and an egg. For the first time, Ren agrees to come into an enclosed space. I offer her my arm and she hops onto it. I wince as her talons grip my arm through the sweatshirt.

  She ducks her head as we enter the house. She eyes the room and hunkers down on my arm, still panting. I give her words of encouragement in a calming voice. After only a few paces into the room, Ren tenses. She extends her head forward, towards Jo’s room, and cocks her head to the side.

  Your friend. The funny woman. What is wrong with your friend?

  Instead of answering, I take her to Jo’s bedroom, met in the hallway by Maggie who jumps around happily at seeing the bird. Ren touches her beak to Maggie’s nose. I ask Maggie to go tell the fairies of Ren’s return.

  In the doorway, Ren croaks sharply when she sees Jo. I tell her what transpired in the circle, how we found Jo, and Sylvia repeats her story and Cal’s. Ren listens without comment and never takes her eyes from Jo. Without warning, she leaps from my arm and comes to rest on the footboard of Jo’s bed.

  I saw too. I saw what happened. To me. To you. Her voice is somber. Bad men will always do bad things. Bad, bad things. She does not look away from Jo. And dark magick lingers.

  My brow wrinkles at her last words, and Sylvia sits in the chair by Jo’s bed, taking her hand. Jo looks as if she is sleeping. Her chest rises and falls in a regular rhythm, and her face is untroubled. Ren turns each keen eye to Jo, studying her intently.

  Dark magick lingers.

  “What do you mean? Her Spirit is weakened, and she’s unable to retain the energy put into her.” I come to stand by the bird, looking at Jo again with my Sight.

  She is caught.

  Sylvia and I stare at Ren, waiting for her to continue. She paces along the footboard but doesn’t speak for several minutes. The silence grates on me.

  “Please tell us what you are thinking.”

  Ren looks up at me, as if she’s forgotten I was there, then back to Jo.

  She is caught. She saw. She saw and felt. It hurt her. The bad men’s dark magick hurt her and she is caught.

  I try to keep the irritation from my voice. “Please, Ren. I don’t understand.”

  “Can you help her?” Sylvia’s eyes glisten as she stares eagerly at the bird.

  I help all Spirits who need guidance. I help all who are lost.

  With that, she hops onto the bed and then onto Jo. Sylvia is up from her seat, hands clenched at her chest, watching Ren with great hope. I am gripping the footboard.

  Jo is propped up with several pillows, and her hands rest on her chest. Ren hops atop her hands and leans forward. She touches her beak to Jo’s lips. She straightens herself and then sinks her sharp talons into Jo’s hands. Blood springs from the punctures, and Jo’s arms flail out with a cry, casting the bird into the air. Her sudden movement makes Sylvia and me jump. Jo is gasping, eyes wide. Sylvia screams and reaches out, but Jo has fallen back onto the pillows, her eyes closed.

  “What the hell just happened?” Sylvia asks, gripping her mother’s shoulders.

  In the instant Ren drew blood, I saw a bright flash with my Sight. Now, Jo’s Spirit is glowing within her as it normally should—bright, happy, and strong.

  She will sleep now. Ren hops back onto the footboard and gazes at Sylvia. She sleeps now. Her Spirit is no longer caught. She is freed.

  “But she’s been asleep forever,” Sylvia mutters, taking one of Jo’s hands. She turns her concerned eyes to Ren. “She’s okay now though, right?”

  Ren bows to Sylvia. She rests now.

  I lay my hand on the bird’s back, gazing at Jo. I’m not certain what Ren has done, for ravens have deep magick that I do not understand. Ravens are the ushers of the Spirit world; they lead those who are lost or confused to the Veil. It appears they do much more. I focus on Ren’s mind so that only she can hear me.

  Ren, what was it? What happened to Jo?

  Her Spirit was caught in an echo of those bad men’s dark magick. Her body quivers slightly. What they did went very wrong, I think. Very wrong.

  38

  The creaking of the screen door rouses me. It’s dark and the house is quiet. I roll my head to the side to see Cal enter with all the stealth he can muster. He sees me and smiles.

  “Hi,” I say, stretching long and deep, yawning as I do. “What time is it?”

  “About one. Go back to sleep. You need it.” He kneels at my feet, kissing my hands.

  “I have news.”

  My broad smile makes his eyes widen, and a hopeful look fills his face.

  “Jo came around this afternoon.”

  He sinks back on his heels with a relieved sigh, squeezing my hands. I tell him of Ren’s return and how she revived Jo and her explanation of Jo’s condition. I nod in the direction of the bird, who is fast asleep on the back of the chair in the corner.

  “Wow, she came inside!” He turns back. “Where has she been, did she say?”

  “She doesn’t know. She saw the same things we all did. When the explosion happened, she took off. She was disoriented and scared. She just flew and flew until her wings gave out.” I frown, remembering how shaken Ren had been when she told me her tale. “My guess is that she experienced what the white raven did in the vision, as I did with my younger self. It was quite intense.”

  Cal looks at the bird with sad eyes. “You still think she’s like Maggie?”

  “In a way,” I say, nodding. “I think that because of how horrible her death was, and the vile magick used in the manner of her death, she is essentially cursed to remain on this plane. Maggie is Spirit and has a choice to stay or go. Ren is immortal, her Spirit trapped within an undying body.” I swallow hard. “She was my best friend, killed because of me, and so she’s forced to stay with me. Cursed to forever follow but never able to get near.” It is such a cruel thing for her to suffer.

  As if sensing the intense emotion surrounding her, Ren stirs. She raises her head to us and stretches out her wings, then each leg. She nods to Cal and settles back down, her eyelids heavy.

  “Ren said something that’s been haunting me. She thinks what those men were doing had gone wrong. She doesn’t know what that means, nor do I really, but I can’t shake this dread.” I shiver and Cal’s arms go around me.

  “Everything those bastards did was wrong,” he mutters, kissing my forehead.

  A loud snort comes from Jo’s bedroom, and we both jump. I am about to check on her when full-on snoring emanates from the bedroom. Cal pats my hand and heads into the kitchen. I hear the fridge open and a bottle cap twisting off with a hiss. He returns and sits on the sofa, taking a long draught of the beer. He lets out a satisfied groan and leans back into the cushions.

  “Bad day?” I ask.

  He opens his mouth to speak when a series of creaks come from Jo’s room, followed by the sound of something falling. We both race to the room. Sylvia barrels from her room with Maggie in tow.

  “Mom!?”

  The three of us cram into the doorway, and Sylvia flicks on the light. Jo is sitting on the side of the bed, shielding her eyes from the brightness. “Turn off that damn light!” Sylvia scrambles to obey, then falls to her mother’s feet, crying. I pass my hand across the room and several candles flame up.

  Jo blinks several times, swaying slightly, looking a little lo
st.

  “You okay?” I ask. She nods, placing one hand atop Sylvia’s head.

  “Can I get some water?” Her voice is rough and dry. Cal is gone in a shot. I linger by the doorway, unsure of what to say. I want to rush to her and hug her tight, but she’s clearly not ready for much attention. Cal returns quickly and Jo gulps the water.

  “Okay, okay, let me up.” She shoos Sylvia away, but softens when she sees her daughter’s face. “I’m all right,” she says with a half-smile, patting Sylvia’s moist cheek.

  She glares at the rest of us. “I’d be even better if you all would stop staring at me.” She waves an irritated hand at us. “Go on, go. I need a shower.”

  Sylvia and I grin at each other. Jo is just fine.

  We sit at the kitchen table and snack on sandwiches and chips. Sylvia has found her appetite and shovels chips into her mouth. I make Jo a sandwich and set it aside, hiding a handful of chips from Sylvia.

  We hear the bathroom door open finally and the floor creak as Jo heads back to her room. By the time we finish our snack, Jo emerges from her bedroom. She doesn’t come into the kitchen, though. Her footsteps take her into the living room, to her favorite chair. A sudden squawk and a girly shriek propel us from the kitchen.

  “Oh, my Goddess!” Jo stands in front of her chair, hands on her chest. Ren is wide awake now, ruffling her feathers in a full body shake.

  “So, yeah, Ren came inside,” Sylvia says. Jo glares at her.

  Stifled chuckling fills the room, and Jo feigns annoyance but then lets herself laugh. “Well, if I wasn’t awake before, I am now!” She sits on the sofa beside the bird. Maggie comes to lie at Jo’s feet.

  After Jo’s had a few bites of sandwich and some hot herbal tea, not coffee or whiskey to our collective surprise, she looks refreshed and the color has returned to her cheeks. Between bites, she’s asserted that she is fine and that we need to stop worrying and stop staring.