“I love you.” Her lined face softened. “Even if you’re a naughty child.”
“I’m eighteen and today was my last day of high school. You know you can’t call me a kid anymore, right?”
She nodded, her coppery red hair framing her face in wild, bouncy curls. “I guess you’re right.” Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Any more nightmares?”
“Not as often.” Turning my gaze from hers, I pulled one of the old wooden chairs from the table and sat.
Often is a relative term, isn’t it? Does three or four times a week count as often? That day, ten years ago, replayed in my mind. I’d awoken in an ambulance with a man bent over, starting an IV and checking my vitals.
The attendants had unloaded my gurney from the ambulance and wheeled me into the emergency room. Tears had streamed down my face, but the medicine they’d given had seemed to dull the throbbing pain in my ankle.
After x-rays and an MRI, it had been determined the fall had only sprained my ankle.
“I don’t know how you survived, little trooper,” the doctor had said while shaking his head. “They say you fell at least fifty feet. You’re one lucky little girl. Must have a guardian angel.” With a wink, he’d turned to the social worker. “Any luck with her parents?”
Dressed in a business suit, the woman had met my eyes before darting her glance to the physician. “There’s only the father, and let’s just say he’s not fit…” She’d raised an eyebrow. “If you get my drift.”
“Ah, I see.”
The doctor had soft brown eyes; I remembered them well. He’d seemed to be one of those people who didn’t hide his thoughts like most adults.
“But her mother’s sister is on the way.” The woman had leaned near the doctor’s ear and whispered, “I’m going to push for her to request custody.”
And that’s how I was rescued from my miserable time with Daddy. Though Aunt Merle didn’t have much more than my father, she was rich in love, stability, and encouragement. Every year, on May seventeenth, we celebrated my adoption. It was a second chance—for her and me—to start new lives.
Wish I could free myself from the bad memories and unending nightmares.
Though Aunt Merle never married or had children, she’d treated me as if I’d been her own child. Daddy relinquished custody without much of a fight since he’d faced child endangerment and abuse charges.
Aunt Merle sighed. “Well, this cake’s gonna have to cool for a while before I can frost it. Why don’t you tell me about your day?” She dumped potatoes into the sink, turned on the tap, and scrubbed dirt from their surfaces with a white, plastic brush.
“Not much to it.” Standing, I strode to the counter to help. “Same as always. I kept to myself, cleaned out my locker, and didn’t look back.” I removed a small paring knife from a drawer and peeled the ones she cleaned. “It’s kind of a relief to be moving on, you know?”
“I think I can understand.” She reached over, grabbed the newly skinned potatoes, cut them into quarters, and dunked them into a bowl of cold water. “Have you given any thought to what we discussed?”
“Not again.” Groaning, I rolled my eyes and exhaled a dramatic sigh. Here we go.
“I’m just saying to think about it.” She dug at a small, black spot marring one and flicked it away with the tip of her knife. “Even if you don’t want to pursue a full degree, there are still plenty of good jobs that only require a certificate. You could become a paramedic, a medical coder, a—”
“Stop.” I raised a hand. “I’m not changing my mind. Eventually, I want to run a gift shop and sell my own soaps, candles, and jewelry. I have no desire to go to college and saddle myself with loads of debt. I don’t need a degree to do what I’ve already been doing.” Shaking my head, I began peeling again. “Besides, I’m just not cut out for college life.”
Yeah, and my grades are crap. I’m graduating with a C, and I’m not even embarrassed.
“Well, honey.” She patted my shoulder with a wet hand. “I’m glad you know what you want, but I worry you’re closing yourself off to what the world has to offer.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners and her face softened.
She means well, I reminded myself. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
“Whatever you decide, your mother would be so proud if she could see you now.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat and blinked back tears. Wherever you’re at Mamma, I miss you.
We worked in silence for the next few minutes. Water on the stove boiled with a merry tune, and the scent of cooking meatloaf sent my salivary glands into overdrive.
“Oh, there he is.” Aunt Merle’s voice rose an octave and she craned her neck closer to the little window above the sink. “Raven’s looking for you.”
“Revan. His name’s Revan.” No matter how many times I’d reminded her, she always forgot. Or she enjoys irritating me.
“Oh, yes, that’s right.” Her fingertip tapped on the glass. “He comes to see you every day like clockwork.” Giggling, she shook her head. “He’s a mighty strange bird.”
I wiped my hands on a towel. “Yeah, he’s a little weird, but I think it’s because he’s so smart.” With a quick step out of the kitchen, I bounded toward the front door.
Aunt Merle’s house was situated in the countryside. Several hundred wild and overgrown acres had been my own sort of heaven while growing up. At one point in the distant past, our family had worked the large area, using it as farm and ranch land. Now, it fell into scrub and sprawling forest—untamable and in danger of a tax lien or auction to pay the county’s back taxes. She scraped and scrounged every penny earned and put the extra toward keeping the county off her back.
I worked for a little gift shop downtown and funneled every extra dollar I could spare, too. It was a daily struggle to hold on to the land she and I both loved.
When I stepped onto the porch’s warped, wooden steps, they squeaked in protest. Fresh air, scented with the hint of wisteria, floated on the wind.
Living here for the previous ten years had brought an inner peace to my heart. Learning to work with my hands—from cooking and canning, to creating homemade lotions and soaps—provided a much-needed escape from my past. Miss Lottie, who owned the gift shop I worked for, had officially hired me on the spot for her part-time help when I’d turned sixteen, but I’d helped her since I’d turned thirteen or fourteen.
An old tire swing hung from an oak tree and teetered in the breeze. Many times, when I was younger, I’d sit in its hollowed middle and pretend I had a friend to push me high into the sky. Sometimes I’d even imagine Revan, with his feathered body and clever eyes always nearby, as a human boy, pressing a hand against my back and giving me a shove.
Fresh bluebonnets, their small buds ranging from dark purple to baby blue, peeked from the weeds in the fields and at the edge of the forest across the road.
This place is so much better than the congested city. And there’s always plenty to eat with the fruit trees, the garden, and Aunt Merle’s thrifty, inventive ways to prepare meals.
I rounded the corner to the homemade perch I’d nailed by the kitchen window after moving here.
Revan shuffled his feet and squawked.
“I didn’t forget.” I held a tiny piece of potato skin near his mouth.
With a delicate snap of his beak, he took it in one gulp.
Stroking his head, I peered through the glass.
Aunt Merle grinned and headed toward the stove, ready to unleash her tasty cooking skills.
“You almost always wait for me, don’t you?”
The bird swallowed and cawed, tilting his head and blinking twice.
“Well, are you going to give me a kiss today or what?” I held a hand toward him. “You know, if this was a story, you’d have turned into a prince or something and whisked me away to your castle.”
He squawked, and I could almost imagine him laughing.
“Well, never you mind. You’re very handsome just the way you are.�
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A quick flash of feathers, and his talons gripped my shoulder. Pushing his smooth head next to my face, he nudged his hard beak against my cheek.
“As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful specimen of bird.” I smiled and stroked his head. “You’re perfect.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Pecos “Revan” Chogan
Present Day
Years ago, when the curse fell upon me, I’d thought it was the worst thing that could ever happen. But I was wrong.
This is true torture—not being able to hold or speak to Sophie.
Over the years, I’d watched her nearly every possible moment. While she sat in class, I’d fly to a nearby window to keep her in my line of vision. When one of the boys gave her a wedgie on the playground, I divebombed and ripped the hair from his head.
She grew from a frightened girl to this determined young woman.
But something strange had occurred during the past few months. When her stare landed on mine, my heart thrummed faster and my blood heated, like I had a fever.
Curse this wretched, weak body.
The old shaman’s voice from so long ago whispered in my head. If you find someone willing to sacrifice their soul for you, then they may have the fortitude to break my magic. His arms had lifted to the sky, and the bonfire at his back had spat and grown larger. Spirit Gods, teach these children the value of life, that they may never relinquish their sacred duties for self-indulgence again. Brown and cold, his eyes had raked our frozen forms. For every slave who died tonight, you will pay with your humanity, since you seem to not treasure its precious gift. Perhaps you will find someone worthy to release you from your debt—his shoulders had lifted, and he had raised his eyebrows—or perhaps not. The deed is done. With that, he’d disappeared in a poof of smoke.
The next morning had revealed eight men and women transformed into ravens. Though we could still understand one another, our bodies assumed this ugly form for all but one day a month.
Sophie’s tall, pale shape rounded the corner.
I preened my feathers quickly, ensuring I was as presentable as possible. She always speaks to me as if I’m a real person. For this act alone, I wanted to be more in her eyes, to be worthy of her attention, to be just as important to her as she was to me.
The late afternoon sunlight landed on her hair, highlighting the black strands, giving them a slightly reddish hue. Her gray-green eyes followed my movements, and her gorgeous rosy lips curved into a gentle smile.
Tonight, as soon as the moon rises, I’ll become my true self for a full twenty-four hours. How would it feel to run the tips of my fingers over her soft, creamy skin and flutter my lips onto hers? Not as this disgusting raven with a cold, hard beak but as a warm-blooded man with dreams and longings.
When her fingers caressed my feathers, a shudder surged through my blood. I want the chance to be a person in her eyes.
For months, I’d thought about revealing myself on my day of freedom, but something always stopped me—fear. I was afraid of what might—or might not—happen. Besides, I could never have a true relationship with her, could I?
The old shaman’s words swirled in my head. Unless I can find someone to sacrifice their soul for me.
No, this young woman had made plenty of sacrifices in her short years. I’m not worth the danger it would pose to her.
Murmured words floated on the breeze, and I refocused on her voice, a soothing song to my troubled bird heart.
“I love you,” she said, then kissed my head.
Staring at her alluring face, something deep inside my soul rose, eager to reciprocate my own growing feelings. “Squawk squawk squawk, squawk.” Okay, in my head, I said I love you, too.
She laughed and transferred me to my perch.
“My silly Revan. It almost sounded like you were trying to talk.” She pivoted and walked toward the side of the house to return to the kitchen. For a moment, she paused and threw a glance over her shoulder, a line between her eyebrows. “But that would be silly, wouldn’t it?” Her hazel gaze swept over my body. “Sometimes it feels like you’re more than you seem.” A soft snort sounded, and she shook her head, her sable hair gently swaying across her upper arms. “I’m being foolish. You’re my only real friend, though, so stick around before bed, and I’ll leave some worms on my windowsill.”
Wonderful. She wants to feed me worms. Frustration welled inside my chest. My tribe and I needed to break this curse, and soon.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sophie Brannigan
After propping the window open a couple of inches to let in the fresh evening breeze, I slid under my fluffy comforter and grabbed the book on my nightstand.
Most girls my age enjoyed binging television, playing videogames, or mall shopping, but I preferred the solitude of this old house. Being around other people meant chaos. Plus, the city held unpleasant memories. And, if I’m being honest with myself, being around others is uncomfortable.
Daddy had never been what one might call kind, but Mamma had balanced his wrath with her sweet words, bearing the brunt of his beer-fueled tirades and offering herself as a shield, sparing me from his fists when she’d been alive.
Swallowing, I wanted to forget the day I lost her, but it slithered into my mind—an unwelcomed snake flicking its tongue to taste the air, to taste my pain, to taste my sorrow. That day, forever seared into my memory like a movie, replayed.
I’d ridden the bus home from school and threw open the door, eager to relay the day’s happenings to Mamma, who’d always patiently listened while slapping a peanut butter and jelly sandwich together for my after-school snack.
Instead of Mamma greeting me at the door, though, Daddy had sat at the rickety table in the middle of our little trailer, a cigarette between two fingers and several empty beer bottles littering the metal surface. With a baleful stare, he didn’t mince his words. “Your mother’s dead.” The glow of the cigarette had brightened with a quick drag. “And now I’m stuck with you.”
It had felt like the air was too thick, as if I’d inhaled the cigarette smoke, too.
“Dead?” My voice had become a squeak. An image of an old, orange tomcat had flashed in my head. A bloody, dying mouse had hung limply from his sharp teeth as the cat had strutted through our overgrown yard.
“Yep.” Daddy had flicked gray ashes onto the floor. “She was fryin’ up a customer’s hamburger and fell to the floor, deader than a doornail.” He’d taken a swig from a half-empty bottle and had thrown a sneer my way. “And now, I’m stuck with your sorry, good-for-nothing ass. I never wanted a kid in the first place, and now look at what she’s done—stuck me with you.”
Smashing the cigarette against a chipped, glass ash tray, he’d stood, stalked to the small bedroom he and Mamma had shared, slammed the door, and left me in confused, painful silence.
Later, I’d learned she’d died from a ruptured brain aneurysm. Her death had been quick and painless, or so they’d said, which offered a sliver of comfort. That horrible day had been a few months prior to our move to the city and my fall.
Banishing my past to where it belonged—behind me—I snuggled into the soft blankets and lost myself to a world filled with dragons and elves, a world where true love triumphed, a world where good always prevailed, and fathers cared for their daughters.
Tap, tap, tap.
The noise pulled me from the story in my head, and I looked over with a smile.
Through the darkened window, silvery moonlight reflected from beady eyes and jet-black feathers.
“Revan.” I tossed the book to the nightstand and rushed to fully open the window.
With grace, he flapped his wings and landed on a bedpost, cawing once.
“Ah, looking for your supper, huh?”
His little chest expanded.
I reached over the bed and dug into a small bag in the nightstand drawer to remove a long gummy worm.
“Well, come on.” The food dangled from
my index finger and thumb, and I wiggled it closer to his head. “You know you want it.”
He jumped onto the mattress, and his clawed feet carefully strutted across the covers. When he was within an inch of the prize, I lowered it to his mouth. With a quick snap of his beak, the worm hung limp from the side. He took flight, flapping his wide wings and soaring out the window.
“Oh, I see how it is.” I resealed the bag, then stuffed it into the nightstand. “You only visit me for the food.” I don’t know why I talked to him like I thought he could understand me, but sometimes, when I looked into his eyes, he seemed more aware than a normal animal.
Wishful thinking and a lonely heart, that’s all.
Sighing, I turned off the lamp and rolled to my side, ready for sleep’s warm embrace.
CHAPTER SIX
Pecos “Revan” Chogan
Thank the Spirits she’d meant a candy worm and not the real thing. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy worms because I did—in bird form. As a man, I would’ve never stuck one of the slimy things into my mouth, but cursed people couldn’t be beggars when it came to food and their digestive systems.
Diving into the trees, I settled onto a branch laden with my brothers and sisters.
What did you bring us, Revan?
How’s your woman, brother? Is she as sweet as she looks? I sure wouldn’t mind testing her out later tonight after we shift.
With a wing, I knocked Imtoh’s body from his perch. You’ll do no such thing if you want to keep all your feathers.
But, Revan. He flew backward, a few feet farther this time, and squawked with laughter. I’ll not need my feathers in a couple of hours. If you don’t move in soon, I will. She’s a ripe fruit for the picking.
I eyed him. You lay one finger on her…
A chorus of laughing caws filled the air, and I realized my tribe enjoyed my discomfort.
My gaze wandered to the dark window on the second story of the house where she slept. What would happen if I appeared to her in my human form? Perhaps they were right. Maybe I should test the waters to gauge her reaction.
Ravenlight (The Ravenlight Cycles Book 1) Page 2
