A Conspiracy of Ravens: A Raven Saga Book 1

by Crymsyn R. Hart

Tremain looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes. It felt good just to do that. Being naked amused him. He inhaled the scent of smog, sewer, urine, the scent of the pot smoke from Maili's landlord, and the numerous other odors on the breeze as the city came alive. The perfume of fresh bread enticed his nose. At the thought of food, his stomach gurgled and growled, protesting his duty for a few seconds. He smiled, but knew he was not going to abandon his obligation when he only had three days in human form to find Maili and hope she was still alive. Food could wait. For now, he had enough of the damp air tickling his naked flesh. With a wave of his fingers, he donned his usual attire when he was in the human realm—dark slacks, soft calfskin boots, black shirt. A silver Celtic knot clasp decorated with triple ravens, a symbol of Morrigain, held back his waist-length onyx hair.

  Magick tingled through him caressing his insides like a phantom lover. One kick back from his curse was he had access to more magick than he ever had as a human. Being damned had made him a creature of magick. His every fiber had been transformed when he was cursed. Closing his eyes, Tremain tried to stave off the memory threatening to engulf him like an angry phantasm. No matter what he did, it captured his brain like a thick fog. The tendrils of it enveloped his flesh bringing him back centuries ago. He smelled the damp, early morning air as it had hung over the pond. Heard the crickets and toads chirping in the grass. Felt the wetness of the dew on his fingertips as it clung to the pussy willows along the bank and the reeds. Fish jumped in the pond slapping the surface of the pond sending ripples back in time...?

  He had woken up early to greet the sun and pay homage to the gods. No matter how much he tried to force his mind to stay focused on the energy of the dawn creeping over the horizon, his thoughts clouded with anger. How could he give thanks to the beings who were keeping him away from the woman he loved? It was not fair. His mind was a red haze, burning like the fingers of the sun touching the midnight blue of the twilight. The gods knew he and Beatrice were meant to be together. He was allowed to take a wife. It was not against Druidic law for him to marry. It was only her mother, former high priestess, wise woman and leader of the village, who did not see him as a good match for her daughter. So she banned them from seeing one another.

  What Genève did now know was her daughter and he had already been married. No one presided over the union except the fairies and the gods. They had exchanged vows, intermingling their spirits as they had fused their bodies. A sacred union had been performed. They were handfasted, sharing the ties of their love.

  His anger cleared when he thought of his beloved wife on the night of their wedding. She had worn a plain white shift she had made, having hidden it away so her mother would not see it. Her flaxen hair had been woven with oak leaves, mint, and yellow daisies. She had even lined her lips so she tasted like the mint and lemon when he had kissed her. He inhaled, smelling the sweet aroma of it even now. They had met in the ancient grove where he and his brother druids performed their clandestine rituals giving thanks to the goddess and god for their bounty in nature. Those who were not fully trained in the mysteries were forbidden to set foot inside the ring of Oak Trees, but with Beatrice's mother being a High Priestess, and his bride also schooled in many of the ancient ways, he knew she understood the significance.

  Tremain had worn his green robes with his dark hair left unbound to his waist. It was his one vanity his brothers made fun of him for, saying he was as vain as a Raven trying to win the praise of the goddess Morrigain. Beatrice loved his hair. When they were alone together, she braided it with flowers. He thought it silly, but indulged her because he adored her so much. He had loved her from the first enchanted moment.

  It had been at Beltane the year before. It was her first festival, and they had been chosen to perform the Sacred Marriage together, the union of Goddess and God on the earthly plane. He had never been chosen for the privilege, but he had taken other priestesses and village girls at the Bale fires over the years. He had been honored at the opportunity. When he saw Beatrice, he had known immediately who she was. Everyone knew she was Genève's daughter, brought up to live and breathe her mother's teachings. He had been her consort. When they had lain together, he saw how scared and yet how ready she was for him. He had been as gentle as he could, not wanting to hurt her tender and gentle flesh, but when the power of the goddess filled her, Beatrice had lost all of her shyness and came for him just as any other woman.

  The next morning she had been taken away, cloistered from prying eyes and treated and revered as royalty as the Goddess personified for the first moon cycle. He had thought of her with reverence and with a slight crush for that time. When she emerged from seclusion, he saw she had blossomed. Beatrice had become a full woman with an air of authority around her. Her shape had defined, and her alluring sky-colored eyes drowned him. Whatever power had touched her when the Goddess had infused her body had changed her, leaving some of her essence behind. During the next full moon ceremony he attended, he had been aware that she watched him. It was against their laws to interact with the consort of the Goddess until the next Beltane fire. It treaded upon the sacred. It was against the Druid's laws. Tremain stayed away until Beatrice cornered him. She had been forceful telling him of her dreams of him and her together. She had pulled him into her spell and kissed him. From the moment his lips touched hers, he knew it was not an otherworldly attraction between them. It was one of the soul. He had always loved her. They were meant to be together. Yet, they both had known the risks. He could be ousted from his Druid robes, and she would be forced to leave the town even if her mother was the elder and leader. So they were secretive. She called him Raven and he called her Mint when they spoke about one another to keep their secret. They had hidden themselves well for months, until the day Genève pronounced the news that Beatrice was to marry one of the sons from a far-away village to cement an alliance. Beatrice broke down, came to him in the Druid house, and told him. She had come in crying. His elder priest heard the whole confession along with several of his brothers.

  Beatrice had begged him to marry her, but he could not. He had to have leave from his elder priest to marry. And they were already breaking the law by seeing one another. As was his duty, the elder priest told Genève about their secret affair. However, their love had held strong. Genève had wanted Tremain exiled from the village, but his sect had said it was up to the gods to decide their fate. Genève had forced the two apart and had set the date her daughter was to leave. Beatrice had run away to live with the priestesses in a compound near the lake. They sheltered her for a while. One night she snuck out, and they were married in the ancient grove.

  Beatrice had given him the Celtic knot for his hair, designed by the silver smith and etched with the triple ravens. He had given her a ring which was his mother's. It was the only piece of jewelry she had, and he had worn it on his pinky since he had been sent away to be a Druid. It had been his mother's greatest wish he devote his life to the gods. For the most part, he loved it. When it came to Beatrice, he wanted her as well, and the ancient traditions were smothering them. He had defied his sect and the village to marry her. They were one, joined at the heart as they were in spirit. The gods would see this and allow them to be together. Sometimes it took man a little longer to see what the universe had deemed written. This was the case with him and his bride.

  They had exchanged vows and lay together as man and wife under the open air, surrounded by fairies who had come to witness their celebration. Beatrice had been the Goddess for him again and he was her God.

  Time had stopped for them. And for one endless night, they were man and wife and nothing would separate them. Love was their bond, uniting them through eternity. He knew that and so did she. Then darkness had given way to the dawn light, and she had to go back to the priestess compound. He kissed her, molding her supple body against his, and reluctantly letting her go.

  For two glorious weeks, they had met every night and consummated their union. And then the elder priestess
had seen Beatrice sneaking out. Once Genève was informed, Beatrice was dragged back home, and he was barred from seeing her. Tremain confessed everything to the elder priest who had been a father to him, begging him to see reason. Beatrice and he were married in the eyes of the Goddess. They were one. He was allowed a wife. The elder Druid told him he could not condone such a union. Lust had driven Tremain on, using the woman who had embodied the Goddess for him, defiling the holy vessel with his wanton thoughts. Tremain tried to make the other Druid understand, but he was set in his ways and ordered to mediate and cleanse his soul of the evil which had rooted itself there.

  Tremain did as he was told, knowing he was being watched day and night so there was no way he could get out of it. Finally, after a month, they began to ease up from the constant watch. That was when he decided to take a walk. His mind tried connecting to the energy of the cosmos, asking the gods why he was being burdened with such hardships. Before he got an answer, he saw something floating in the water. What it was had made is heart die.

  The Raven Warrior closed his eyes and shook his head. Tremain closed the mental barrier on his past. Dredging up ancient times was stupid. All who had wronged him were dead. All whom he treasured were dead. He thought about what he had said to Maili earlier about love. It had crushed his heart and soul. Living and being cold was better than to acknowledging feelings. Besides, what did he need of feelings anyway? He was a cursed soul doomed forever to fly the skies and protect the innocent. What did love matter? He was damned eternally and would never break the curse which bound him.

  Sighing, he put his mind on his task. He had to find Maili. Whatever kept her shielded from him was powerful. He had to find out what it was. Hopefully something in her apartment would lead to who it was. Opening the doors, he stepped into the ransacked apartment. There was no broken glass, so whoever had come in had done it by magickal means, knew the landlord, or had a key. He doubted the owner let them in. Maili had known the old hippie for years, and he might have been high on cloud nine, but he did know who entered the building when it came to Maili and her friends.

  How did I get myself into this? Tremain thought. Before he left the other realm, Caleb had warned him his destiny was out of his hands. He could no longer buffer the rulings of the council or Betha. He was on his own. Tremain didn't have to be told that. He already knew. Getting assigned to Maili had been his last resort to save himself from eternal damnation. So far he was doing a bang up job of watching over the Banshee Queen's daughter. He surveyed the books on the floor. None stood out as being important. Knickknacks were pulverized to dust, and pages were strewn out of books as if someone had been looking for something. All the kitchen drawers had been overturned with silverware, and junk littered the floor. DVDs were thrown across the room in some strange mosaic. The Warrior stepped into the one bedroom and saw the same sight. All the little decorative boxes on the bureau along with the jewelry boxes had been torn apart. Tremain glanced over the jewelry and didn't see the one piece Maili had on her all the time, the onyx pendent in the shape of a music note that her mother had given her. It was the one thing which allowed her to part worlds. She needed a catalyst since she was part human. Her flesh was too heavy to slip the worlds unassisted.

  Come to think about it, Maili had not been wearing it the night at the theater. Her neck had been bare. He wondered if someone had realized the significance of the pendent and was looking for that. The Druid dreaded to think they had actually discovered what Maili truly was. The world might be in danger if a true magickal mortal slipped into the other realm. It was there the Queen was at her strongest, but the human could wreck some damage. Humans weren't allowed in the other realm. Their dreamselves, or astral selves, crossed over when during sleep, but they were mere phantoms like the ghosts on this plane. It was nothing then since they would barely remember the time they spent out of their body. A few did, clinging to the existence in the other realms, but from what he had experienced, there were not too many in the population of modern-day witches, New Agers, and Druids, who truly took to heart there was another domain beyond the physical one they existed in. Most of the true magickal humans had died off. One cropped up here and there, but they ended up having very little influence in the world around them. They were the psychics or beings able to poke the universe to get things to go their way. A small number had control over the elements, could part the void into his world, or possessed the ancient insight his generation had. In some ways, mortality had gone back to the Dark Ages, forgetting the fundamental wisdom he had been taught under the stars. Most of the Atlantian knowledge had been lost. Even when he had learned in the ancient groves, most of the early knowledge had not not intact. It was learned in bits and pieces from what had survived the great holocaust. Thinking about the destruction saddened him, but in the other realm, whatever knowledge he wished was at his fingertips. There were a few of those from Atlantis who had ascended and were found within the other realm. He should know because Caleb was one of them. His father was Elder of the Council and had condemned his own son to the cursed eternal life he lived now.

  Tremain picked through some of the remains of Maili's belongings. Nothing stood out. His instincts told him to scope out the boy she was dating, Jason. However, when he thought about the boy, he didn't sense any magickal ability within him. He was vain, plain and simple, just as the Druid had been when he was mortal, young and in love. Now Tremain saw the error of his ways. He absently caressed the silver clasp. His fingertips went over the etched triple raven design. His flesh had memorized the engraving from stroking it so much. The Warrior would suffer the error of his ways until the day he was released from his accursed service or his soul was sent to hell.

  His stomach rumbled again, and he realized he was ravenous. Taking a moment, he went into the kitchen, stepping over utensils and open cabinets exposing their contents of crackers, rice mixes, flour, and so on. He scanned the shelves deciding on some chocolate chip cookies. He had come to have an affinity for the sweets and slid the plastic tray out of the blue paper wrapper which sported a very short and chubby elf on the front.

  If only they were that size, they'd be easier to squash. Instead, they think they're better than everyone because of their ethereal beauty. Tremain crunched the bag in his fist and threw it into the trash bin, not needing to add to the destroyed apartment. If someone made such a ruckus, why didn't the old hippie downstairs notice and call the police? I know he hears everything that goes on in this place. He lives in the back of the store.

  A cold chill slid through the Warrior as he munched on the last cookie. The sun was crawling up the sky, and he had found nothing yet. The shadows were still long in the apartment. He closed his eyes again and search along the connection between him and his charge. There was nothing except the cloud which he had encountered earlier. Another shudder caressed his spine. Something was coming. He hoped it was whoever had plundered the flat in the first place. Gathering his power, he felt himself get lighten, flatten, as he had done when he was in Raven form. However, he did not let space bend around him to open a portal to the other realm. Tremain became transparent like a ghost and let the shadows gather around him. Outside the door, floorboards creaked with footsteps. Keys jingled like small bells. Casting his mind out into the hallway, the Warrior hoped, prayed it would be Maili because then his ass would be saved. However, he felt a very mortal mind. The pet human, Linnea. There was something else he sensed about her. It was odd. A spark of power he had not felt in her before had been ignited.

  He wanted to explore her mind further, to see why he missed it, but he did not have enough time. A blast of frigid air surrounded him. The shadows convulsed. A patch of tangible darkness materialized in the living room like a doorway. A creature slithered out of it. He swallowed back fear and repulsion as he saw the thing which had appeared out of the darkness. Tremain had not seen the creature for centuries and thought they were all destroyed. They were kin to the banshee. The banshee hated to admit they were
on the same family tree, but it was true.

  Long, skinny fingers like branches wrapped around the edges of the doorway. Pointed, sharp nails sliced the air forcing the doorway wider so she could pass through. Her body was a pale green color and clothed only in a brown sack which was wet and dripping slime. White, wispy hair clung to her head. A long, thin, wart-covered nose accented her face between dark black eyes that stared out, examining the state of the apartment. They were ancient and held much of wisdom, but they were also nefarious. This was Jenny Greenteeth. She lived in dark swamps where light hardly reached, eating the souls of men and the hearts of children. She lured victims into the swamps by pretending to be a helpless old woman or by singing enchantingly with a sweet voice like a siren's luring sailors to their death upon jagged rocks. Her teeth were sharp enough to bite through bone and suck the marrow out of them. One bite was poisonous. It took a little while to affect the victim, but once it did, it was lethal. He didn't know a cure for it. Hunched, she could move with great speed if she wanted to.. Her feet were tiny and perfect, but her whole body was covered in slime from the swamps she lived in.

  He had come across one of her relatives ages ago when he was in human form watching out for a charge. The only way to kill it was to behead the Jenny Greenteeth. Whoever had sent it was evil. Only a dark sorcerer would know the correct magick to call up such a fairy. One thin cut from those deadly nails would render a mortal paralyzed in thirty seconds and dead in a minute. He watched as Jenny Greenteeth moved away from the doorway and began walking toward the bedroom. She was not doing this for free. The evil fairy hardly did anything for free. She demanded a sacrifice or payment in magick because she was powerless on her own.

  "Maili, you in there?"

  He heard the pet human call through the door. His soul went cold. There was no way Linnea could be involved with this. She was an innocent bystander and did not need to know anything about the other realms. Jenny smiled at the sound of Linnea's voice and turned slowly toward the door. Keys rattled in the lock, and he heard the bolts turning. The pet human was going to come in here, probably checking on her friend and worried about her since they were practically inseparable. Tremain knew he had to protect her from Jenny. If he lost anyone or anything close to Maili, even a pet, Betha would have his soul for it, and he was not ready to face the darkness of whatever torture she had in mind. Quietly, he summoned his sword, wrought by silversmiths of the Sidhe, the Fairy Court, which the elves and all the higher fairies were part of. Betha was in the Court and the Sidhe was ruled over by the fairy king. Their smith was an ancient elf who had walked the lands when the Earth were nothing more than molten rock helping to bring life to the planet. The Elves had ceded power to the Fey. The Unseelie Court was just the opposite of the Sidhe Court. It was made up of darker and evil fairies. If humans didn't know what they were doing when they were summoning, they could get the wrong fairies.