by T. S. Joyce
HOW IT IS
(OATH OF BANE, BOOK 4)
By T. S. JOYCE
How It Is
Copyright © 2021 by T. S. Joyce
Copyright © 2021, T. S. Joyce
First electronic publication: May 2021
T. S. Joyce
www.tsjoyce.com
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Published in the United States of America.
Editor: Alyxandra Miller
Other Books in this Series
How It’s Supposed to Be (Book 1)
How It Has to Be (Book 2)
How It’s Meant to Be (Book 3)
Contents
Copyright
Other Books in this Series
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Up Next in this Series
Newsletter Sign-Up
More Series by this Author
For More from this Author
About the Author
Prologue
“Why can’t he change?” Bron asked.
His murmured words rattled around in Krome’s head, growing louder and louder, taunting him. Another wave of pain wracked his body and he arched his back and clenched his teeth against the scream clawing its way up his throat.
He curled in on himself on the floor, dragging his knees to his chest, but it didn’t ease the pain. He was in human form, but his broken crow wings stretched out behind him, mangled from the war with the bear shifters. His link to the sky had been destroyed in the hands of Moore Bane.
“I think his wings are making him sick.” Laken’s voice was low and cold.
“What do we do?” Bron asked.
What do we do? What do we do? Echoing and overlapping, the words bounced around Krome’s mind.
“You put me down,” Krome ground out. “That’s what you do.” Put him out of his misery. What use was he as the king of this Murder of crows if he couldn’t fly?
Bron knelt down in front of him, his edges blurring in and out of focus. He was asking something. What did he say? Krome shook his head, and winced at the pain the movement caused. His entire body was on fire. The shattered wings really were making him sick.
Bron leaned in closer, his black eyes drilling into Krome’s. “Do you want us to cut them off?”
The sky.
The sky.
The sky, the sky.
Krome closed his eyes and imagined the sky.
He swallowed hard. “I would rather you kill me.”
Chapter One
Cora Peterson was going to die.
Her breathing sounded loud, trapped in the black burlap sack someone had placed over her head. She was on her side in the empty back of a cargo truck of some sort, her hands secured with a zip-tie behind her. The tie was digging into her wrists from her struggle. God, how had she come to be here? She remembered being at work, looking at the X-rays for Odin, the snowy owl. Then she remembered the bell above the door sounded, and she told a man she was sorry but the avian medical center was closed, and then…and then…nothing. She woke up here, struggling, feeling every bump in the road and listening to the sound of two men talking low up front.
“We’ll obey his wishes if this doesn’t work,” one said.
“It’ll work.” This one had a deeper voice.
“She’s a fuckin’ human, Bron. They aren’t magic.”
“I’m telling you, this will work.”
“Or, we do what he asked of us and put him down.”
“He’s our king—”
“Yeah, and we are supposed to obey the king’s orders.”
“And then you would be king,” the one called Bron said. “How convenient.”
“Fuck you, man. I’ve been loyal to Krome from the day he took over the Murder. I watched every triumph, and every failure. I stuck by his side every time he failed to end the bear shifters’ line. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m doing this stupid idea with you. I stalled on obeying his order. Don’t put your paranoia shit on me, I’ve done everything I’ve ever been asked. I’m fine being second in the Murder.”
Murder? Cora’s heart beat faster, and she began panting. The hood was suffocating her, and the bindings on her wrists were digging in so hard that warmth was trickling down her right hand. Her shoulders hurt from being restrained in this position. She was going to lose use of her hands if her circulation didn’t improve.
“P-please,” she whispered. Please what? She didn’t even know. Set her free? Loosen the zip-ties? Remove her hood? Take her back home, back to where her life was finally steady and on track? “Please,” she whispered again.
“Shit, man, you said she would be out for another hour.”
“Again,” Non-Bron said, “She’s a human. They die easy. I didn’t want to give her too much.”
“Lady,” Bron called. “We just need you to sit real still and shut up. We’ll be there soon.” He sniffed loudly. “I smell blood.”
“Probably on her period,” Non-Bron muttered.
“Laken, did you do her ties too tight? She’s bleeding like a stuck pig.”
Her wrists ached and warmth pit-patted out of her. She could smell the blood, too.
“Good job, dumbass. You said my name and now we’ll have to kill her when she’s done.”
“What? No, we won’t. There’s a billion people named Laken.”
“There’s like three in the world,” Laken muttered.
“I swear I won’t say anything,” she rushed out. “Just, please take me home. Please. I have pets. They’ll starve without me. My mom will know I’m missing and come looking for me. I’m all she has left! There’s security cameras in the office!” Someone touched her hands and she flinched in terror. “Don’t touch me!” She struggled as panic dumped adrenaline into her system.
“Stop freaking out, lady. I’m trying to loosen these.”
Cora whimpered and tried to make herself go still, but now she was shaking like a leaf and with every breath, a sob escaped her.
“What are you doing?” Laken demanded.
A familiar sound clicked. It was the same sound her pocket knife made when she opened it to break down cardboard boxes at the clinic. Dread filled her stomach, and she panicked again. Arching her back, she screamed and pulled as hard as she could on the tie around her wrists.
“Stop it, lady!” Bron yelled.
“We’re here,” Laken said. “Cut her tie and prop her upright. The boys will get her out.”
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” she chanted, sobbing.
Her hands freed suddenly, and she curled in on herself, rubbing her bleeding wrists. Pain, pain, pain. “I need my hands,”
she said mindlessly. “I need them.”
“We’re aware,” Bron said softly.
The truck stopped and she could hear talking outside. Men’s voices. She scrabbled for her face covering, but Bron stopped her hands and yanked her upright. She yelped and staggered, trying to stay on her feet. His hands were impossibly strong on the back of her neck, and he shoved her forward. She thought she would hit a door or something, and flinched back, but the doors were already open, apparently. She pitched forward and fell, but didn’t hit the ground. Someone very strong caught her and tossed her over their shoulder. She whimpered as the breath got pushed from her lungs. “Please. I have some money in my savings account. Whatever you want, I can figure something out.”
“We don’t want your money, lady,” Bron said from somewhere behind her.
“Then what do you want?” she yelled, terrified.
“Your hands.”
Another scared whimper crawled up the back of her throat. They were going to cut off her hands? She was going to die. Die! In some awful way at the hands of these…these… “Animals!” she yelled. Her voice echoed. Oh God, she was somewhere far away from home. Too far away. It smelled like earth and pine sap here. The woods? They’d taken her deep into the woods. The police would never find her body and her mother would never know what became of her and—think!
She lifted her head but she could only see the back of the man carrying her and snow covering the ground from the opening at the bottom of the burlap sack. Snow? Okay, so she was at a higher elevation than her home in Boise, Idaho. They didn’t have snow on the ground at the moment. Montana maybe? How long had she been out? How long had they been traveling?
The creaking of a door sounded, and up some porch stairs her captor stomped. They were going to take her to a basement or something. They were going to lock her up and torture her!
She flailed wildly, kicking her legs and hitting the man in the back with her fists, but he didn’t even struggle under her shifting weight and her hands seemed to do no damage to the behemoth.
“I want to go home! Please! Just take me home, I swear I won’t tell anyone about this. I’m a person! I have feelings and a home and a mother and people who depend on me!”
“No you don’t. No one depends on you. You’re a single lady with no kids and no prospects. Your mom will survive without you. She seems like a tough woman.”
“How…how do you know my mom?”
“I don’t. We researched you.”
“I have dependents! I have pets that rely on me.”
“Your birds will be fine.”
Her panic and frustration mounted. How did these men know so much about her? They’d stalked her, and with every echoing step he took across the wood floors, her fear deepened. There were other men with them. She could hear their bootsteps.
She struggled, but the man held onto her tightly. How was he this strong?
“Please don’t kill me,” she begged.
The sound of a door creaking open filled the air, and she was dumped unceremoniously onto her backside.
“Don’t give us a reason to,” the man growled.
The door slammed closed.
On the ground, Cora froze, listening intently for any movement around her. All she could hear was her own breathing in the burlap sack, and her pounding heartbeat.
Panting in panic, she yanked the head covering off, but the sprawling room was dark except for one lamp on a desk against the back wall. Something moved on the floor beside it.
She wasn’t alone.
She scrambled backward until her shoulder blades hit the wall.
“What are you doing in here?” a man asked in a hoarse voice that sounded like it hadn’t been used in a long time.
“I…” She was terrified!
“Speak,” he demanded.
“I don’t know.” She swallowed hard and looked around for a weapon. For anything she could use. The wood floors were bare and clean. To her right was a dresser and to her left was a huge bed. There was no clutter, nothing to use to protect herself.
She blinked hard, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness in here, but the man was just out of the reach of the dim lamplight.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Why would my men bring you to me?” His voice sounded strained. Pained, perhaps.
She curled her knees up to her chest. He’d called them his men, so he was some sort of leader here. But he didn’t know why she was here? Focus.
“I don’t know. I don’t know! I was at work—”
“Where do you work?”
“Flight First Avian Clinic.”
The man was quiet for a few moments. “What do you do there?”
“I work with injured birds. Ummmm, people bring them in to me…” Her voice was shaking badly. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to steady it before she started again. “People bring me birds they find that have been hit by a car, or shot, or with fishing line tied around them, or trash around their necks. My team and I try to rehabilitate them.”
“What’s your job there?”
Cora wrung her hands. “Please. I just want to go home.”
“What’s your job there,” he repeated in a grittier voice.
“I’m the head surgeon there. I get birds from all over the state. Sometimes from all over the country.”
He moved. She could see him right on the edge of the light, just a shadow there that twitched, but she didn’t understand the shape of him.
“I’m really scared you and your men will hurt me.” She’d always done that. If she said her fears out loud, it took power away from them. Made her feel a little steadier.
“I couldn’t hurt you if I tried,” the man said. His voice was weaker now, hoarser than before.
“I wish I could believe that.”
“Turn on the light.”
“Is this a trick?” she asked.
“No. Stand up, the light switch is right beside the door. Flip it on.”
Trembling, Cora stood slowly, but didn’t take her eyes off the shadowy figure as she felt the wall for the switch. He would rush her the second she took her attention off him, she just knew it.
Click.
She winced at the light, and opened her eyes as fast as she could to find the man. No. Not a man…a monster.
He didn’t have a shirt on, only jeans. His pale skin was adorned with tattoos, and his hair was short and dark. His eyes bore right through her, but they weren’t right. They weren’t human. There were no whites of his eyes. Instead, they were the purest black. And even more terrifying than that were the massive black wings that stretched out from his back.
The scream in her throat nearly choked her. In a rush, she turned to the door and tried the handle. It was locked from the outside. Frantically, she threw herself against it. “Let me out! Let me out of here!” she sobbed.
She slammed her body against the barrier once. Twice. She tossed a horrified look over her shoulder at the man, but he was just sitting there with his eyes nearly closed as he rested his head against the wall behind him. Something was wrong with him. Something was wrong with his wings. Black feathers littered the floor around him, and a sheen of sweat dampened his face and chest.
“Laken,” he said softly. “Let her out.”
The door opened immediately, and she pitched forward into the hallway, only to be grabbed by the collar of her scrubs by a giant man with matching black eyes. He shoved her back into the room and turned her around, making her face the monster.
“She can fix you.”
“She can’t.”
“She can try!”
“Let me go!” she shrieked, flailing.
The man shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth. Stunned and dizzy, she stilled.
“I asked you to kill me, and you kidnapped a woman instead.” His gaze dipped to her wrists. “You hurt her.”
“Bron and I thought—”
“No, you didn’t,” the monster snarled. He eased a look of fury at th
e man who held her—Laken. “You didn’t think. We have rules—”
“And everyone is breaking them, so fuck the rules.”
The man moved to stand, but he bowed his back and grunted out a pained sound. He crumpled onto the floor and she could see every massive muscle seize, every vein pop, every muscle in his jaw clench as he gritted his teeth. She saw it clearly now. His wings were destroyed. They didn’t move properly, and they weren’t shaped right. The ulna and radius bones were clearly snapped on both wings, and they fluttered awkwardly behind him, dragging the broken bits jerkily across the floor.
“Oh my God,” she whispered in horror. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was in. “Let me go.”
“So you can run?” Laken asked.
Cora shoved off him hard. “So I can see him!” she yelled in his face. God, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t watch suffering this deep.
The man screamed and buckled again, and more feathers fell off as his wings moved upward across the floor.
“Don’t hurt me,” she whispered as she knelt beside him.
He panted out pained groans as he tried to hold still. Sweat trickled down his face, and he squeezed his eyes closed.
“Put me down,” he said so softly, she almost missed it. And then with a huff of breath, his body went limp and his eyes rolled closed.
Put him down? Kill him? He’d passed out cold, which was a mercy for him.
“What is he?” she asked without looking back at Laken.
“He’s whatever he needs to be.”
She studied the snapped and fractured wings. They were each as big as her and covered much of the floor. “What have you done for pain management?” she asked.
“He refuses to take anything. He wants his mind when he dies.”
She tossed Laken a furious look. “He’s not in the position to make those decisions.”
“Oh, but he is,” Laken said, lifting his chin higher into the air. “He’s our king.”
She didn’t understand any of this. Cora picked up a huge feather and brushed her fingertip along the soft edge. He was a man, partly. And a bird, partly. “What happened to him?” she asked.
