Crow's Caw at Nightmoon Creek

by Calinda B

  “Next week? Are you kidding me?” The news practically slams me backward against the wall. I even take a few steps back.

  “I wish I was. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. They’ve been moving with stealth and speed behind the scenes. I only found out a couple days ago.”

  “Yeah, well…a lot can happen in a couple days. Like losing your best friend.”

  Carey gives me a look steeped in kindness and warmth.

  “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll lose it. I need to keep it together.” I chew the inside of my lip. “Shit. This is awful. How can we stop them now if we haven’t been able to stop them already?” My tears of grief form hot tears of rage and frustration.

  “Magic? We hire a wizard?”

  “I don’t know any spells or wizards.” The tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, flowing like the gushing fountains I suspect Lennon is capable of creating. “I’ve got to keep moving or I’m going to dissolve in a puddle of grief. Thanks for the update. Keep in touch, okay? I need to know if anything changes, even the smallest of details.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “Ha! You’re the boss here, Carey. Nothing would happen were it not for you.”

  “It’s teamwork, girl. We all have a part to play.”

  The look he gives me this time stirs my longing to find a place in this world…to become a part of the greater good…a soul snatcher, part of humanity…something, anything. “And you’re the key asset of a great team, Carey. Thank you.”

  “You are, too, Mercedes.”

  “We’ll see about that.” I stride from him, ready to go into the dragon’s lair.

  Once I’ve retrieved my bike, a police cruiser pulls up. I groan. Chief Rickman. What now?

  “Ms. McCartney,” he says, once he’s exited his car.

  “Chief Rickman.” I blow out a long breath.

  “We need to ask you some questions in regards to the explosion at ARC.”

  “Who’s ‘we’? And I was with you an hour ago, remember?” I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve gone from active citizen to criminal suspect, practically overnight.

  “How do you know when it happened?”

  “Carey told me.” I stab my thumb in the direction of the office building.

  “How does he know?”

  “He was headed over there to drop something off.” I let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Come inside so we can talk.”

  “I still don’t know who this ‘we’ is. You’re the only one I see.”

  Two more, sleek, shiny, black and white cruisers pull behind Chief Rickman’s car, like sharks emerging from the deep blue sea into the shallows.

  “Oh,” I say. I drag my feet, following along behind him.

  The other policemen emerge from their vehicles and tromp behind us.

  Rickman holds open the door for me to enter. “After you,” he says politely.

  All conversation stops when we enter, disappearing like wisps of fog blown by a strong wind.

  “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “We didn’t do it,” Carey says. “I’d only left the building minutes before it happened. Ask anyone. Ask the florist in the shop next door. I stopped to say hello to her before I left. I didn’t even know about it until I saw it for myself.”

  “Uh huh. You,” he points to one of the other officers. “Take him into his office and question him. I’ll deal with Ms. McCartney. Joseph, you keep the others here occupied.” He turns to me and says, “After you,” again, like we’re heading off for tea.

  I groan, and stomp ahead of him, heading for the break room. Once in there, it takes an act of will to keep from sweeping all the coffee mugs and dishes to the floor with my arm, taking pleasure in their destruction, if only for a moment.

  “I didn’t do it, Chief Rickman. None of the guys and gals here even knew about it. They were all talking about it when I arrived.”

  “Why were you here?”

  “Because, as you and everyone in this town knows, I started this organization and I wanted to find out how ARC managed to bypass our injunction to start their build. Do you know I have a week to stop them or else our beautiful, pristine Nightmoon Creek will be no more?”

  “Perfect motive, if you ask me.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

  “I didn’t know that until thirty minutes ago. I’m not that quick with explosions. Matter of fact, I’ve never set off an explosive device in my life.”

  “Uh huh.”

  I throw back my head. “It wasn’t me! It wasn’t Carey. No one in this place had any knowledge it would even happen.”

  The chief continues questioning me for nearly forty-five minutes. When he’s finished, and my mind is worn out, he says, “Same as before. Don’t leave town. And don’t you dare head over to ARC or I’m really going to arrest you. You’re looking guilty as hell, Ms. Mercedes. I’ll be watching you.”

  I stalk out of the break room, barely acknowledge the others and head outside. If the front door wasn’t on one of those glide hinges, I’d have slammed it good and hard. It’s now pouring with a tsunami like intensity. “Great. Just great. Now I can’t go to ARC, and I’m in deeper trouble than yesterday. Damn, damn, damn.”

  I head out into the sodden sidewalk when a now familiar truck pulls next to me. “Get in,” Lennon says.

  This time I don’t chide his manners. Instead I toss my bike in the bed of the truck and slide into his cab.

  “You’re a mess,” he says, putting the truck in drive and stepping on the gas. He reaches behind his seat, snags a towel from the back, and tosses it to me.

  I inspect it for dirt, decide it’s not too filthy, and use it to turn my hair from drenched into damp.

  “What happened to your arm?” His gaze skips to my pants. “And your hip?”

  “Bill Holloway.”

  “Elena’s ex?”

  “One and the same. He knocked me off my bike and threatened me. Told me to keep my nose out of other’s business. I’m telling you, he looks as guilty as they come. But no, I seem to be a prime suspect.” I press my lips together and stare out the window, the rain making long streaks against the glass.

  “For the murder? He let us go, you know.”

  “Yeah, well, now I’m a suspect in a new case.”

  “Seriously?” His eyebrows knit together.

  “Yeah. Do you know anything about an explosion over at ARC? Some kind of massive pipe burst, flooding the place?” My sarcasm flows freely from my lips.

  He says nothing, glaring at the road.

  “I’m primo numero uno in the suspect pool.”

  His jaw tightens. “How bad is it?”

  “Oh, more of the ‘don’t leave town’ bullshit, and ‘you look guilty as hell, Mercedes.’”

  Lennon’s hand slams so hard against the steering wheel, it’s a wonder it doesn’t snap from the base. “Goddamn it!” he roars. “There wasn’t supposed to be that kind of fallout. Not on someone I care about.”

  I must jump two feet out of my skin, both from the intensity of his anger, and from the care statement. His words make the inside of the cab vibrate. “Whoa, baby. Put the brakes on the rage, Lennon.”

  “No, I’m not going to put the brakes on, Mercedes. You’re not supposed to be tagged for this. You were at the station, am I right? I planned it very carefully. I figured I may as well do something useful now that I have no job.”

  “Chief Rickman thinks I organized it.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Yes, I know that, you know that, but that’s the police for you.” I put my hand on his arm, same as in the truck the other day, only this time, he doesn’t stare at it like it’s a snake. Progress? We do seem to be having a decent conversation, for a change.

  “I’m really sorry, Mercedes.”

  “Me, too. Sorrier still that I couldn’t watch. Carey said it was fantastic.”

  A small smile forms on his face and his eyes slide toward me for
a hot second. “It was. I’m proud of that one.”

  “So, care to tell me how you can manipulate water? I heard the shower gush when I went to your house to give you your coat, then you made the water boil for coffee in a snap, then you made streaming fountains in the creek.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. Ever since I started to shift I’ve been able to do it. The shower was a mistake. I was pissed and exhausted after our night at the station. I don’t always have control when I’m that out of it. The water exploded from the bathroom pipes, and being covered in water, I shifted into an otter for a second. I do that sometimes when I’m stressed. I, uh…I didn’t want you to see me as an otter. Didn’t know you were a shifter yet.”

  “Why’d you look like you’d been crying?” I ask.

  His eyebrows furrow together. “I don’t know. I guess chlorinated water was at play. I prefer fresh and natural. Chlorine’s always an irritant.” He reaches one warm hand across his body and puts it on top of mine, still resting on his forearm. It’s a kind, welcome gesture. Then he pulls his hand away and I do, too.

  “I can’t control my shifts when I’m stressed either. Otherwise you’d have been holding a crow in the woods the other night, instead of my bare legs.”

  “I preferred the latter,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his face.

  I squirm in my seat, not sure to do with that statement. “Is the water art part of your shifter purpose?”

  “My what?”

  “You know, when you learn you can shift, you quest to find your purpose. I think I’m destined to be a soul snatcher.”

  “What the fuck is that?”

  “There’s an old crow in town. His name is Odin. He ushers souls of the departed to the other side. There are others who assist him but they’re all ordained by him. I want to be part of the sacred circle.”

  He gives me a puzzled, curious look. “A soul snatcher, huh?”

  “Yes,” I say, beaming. I decide to leave the part out about eating roadkill. That might really hamper my chances of him ever wanting to kiss me again.

  Another thought wants to spring from my lips and I’m not sure I want it to. It’s about Elena, and for a moment, I imagined it was only me and Lennon in the truck, sharing a Lennon and Mercedes moment. “And Odin told me Elena’s soul is stuck in her body in the morgue.”

  “Jesus Christ, that’s disgusting,” he says, his face turning dark. “How can a soul be stuck?”

  “Her murder was apparently heinous. Violent. She was tortured before she died.”

  His shoulders shudder and he almost looks like he’s about to vomit. “Fuck,” he says. “She’s too good for that to have happened.”

  I feel myself pull away from the warmth we shared a minute ago. He really liked her. How could he not? It’s Elena, we’re talking about, not dumb, old, always has her head in a cause, Mercedes. “I’m sorry to bring it up, but when he told me, I vowed more than ever to bring her killer to justice.”

  “Count me in, then. That’s an image I’ll never get out of my head. Soul stuck.” He shudders again. “I never heard of questing to find purpose,” he says, changing the topic while pulling up to a street light. “I simply experiment with what shows up. I think it makes it sound awfully ‘knights in shining armor’ to imagine my life purpose as being connected to certain skills I’ve been given.” He shakes his head. “I don’t mean to rain on your parade, though. If you need to believe in that, by all means.”

  It’s like he’s somehow popped my big, shiny, life purpose red balloon with a pin. I deflate in the seat.

  “Don’t look so glum, Mercedes. You want to usher souls somewhere, be my guest. You seem to have different ways of thinking about your shifter status than I do. I’ve had to hide and shield a lot. I’m telling you. It’s brutal in other places of the world when they find out. I’ve been beaten within an inch of my life. Once, a religious organization threatened to burn me at the stake, talking ‘end of days’ and biblical nonsense. That’s why Woodland Creek sounded so appealing.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible, Lennon. I mean, most of the humans don’t know about us. It’s something I hope to address once I stop ARC from destroying the creek. We should be allowed to cohabit in peace.”

  He smirks. “You’re a real dreamer, you know that?”

  “Not really. More of a fighter for change. I stand up to injustice.”

  “And that’s one of the things I admire about you.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “You admire something about me?”

  “Don’t look so stunned. You have a lot of good qualities.” He clears his throat. His cheeks redden, like a tomato on fire.

  “What’s going on over there, Lennon Lusk?” I ask.

  He chews his lower lip. “So, where were you headed when I rescued you from the rain?”

  Okay, open and frank conversation over, I see. “I’m supposed to be headed to ARC but Rickman put the kybosh on that plan. He said if I go anywhere near ARC, I’ll be arrested.”

  “Damn it,” he says again, more quietly than before. “I hate when my actions affect others.”

  I eye him out of the corner of my eye but don’t pursue it. “So, did you know ARC has a wizard on their payroll?”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit. Carey told me.”

  “What kind of wizard?”

  “A nightshade kind. I hear they’re badass.”

  “The baddest of the bad,” Lennon concurs. “I’ve heard about them but never had the displeasure of meeting one. Most of them are rich as hell, and bored, spending their days developing spells to see how much damage they can do.”

  “That’s what Carey told me.”

  “Well, believe him. We’ve got a real problem on our hands if they’re employing the dark arts. And I might have a bigger problem now, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The wizard’s going to know who blew up their pipes.”

  My hair stands on end. “What do you mean the wizard knows?”

  “Those guys know who cast counter spells. Not that it was a spell, but it was a cause and effect kind of thing, initiated by yours truly. Fuck.” He drags his fingers through his hair. “I guess I can’t escape looking over my shoulder. I wish I’d known they had a wizard.” He whacks the steering wheel again, less forcefully this time. “Damn it all, anyway!”

  “What can we do?”

  “We have to lay low, that’s what. Keep to the shadows. I don’t know. I’ve never been in this particular situation. Me and my lack of impulse control.”

  “You lack impulse control?” I can’t help but be amused.

  “Pretty much. When I’m angry I tend to act without thinking things through. I woke up mad at the world today. Hence…” He sweeps his arm in front of him and only then do I realize where we are…in front of what’s left of the ARC offices.

  “Whoa, you demolished it.” I stare at the scattered remains of what used to be an office complex. The entire Main Street building has been wiped out. Adjacent buildings have holes blasted through the walls. A single desk stands in the middle of driving rain, testament to the fact that a place of employment sat at this very site a few hours ago. There are flat-screened computer monitors in pieces everywhere. Pieces of desks and chairs, shattered glass and splintered wood. “Holy hell.”

  Ambulances still remove a steady stream of victims, some badly burned from steaming water, some bruised or broken from falls, no doubt. “Holy fucking hell,” I whisper. I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified. “What did you do?” I say, the words barely audible. My gaze slides toward Lennon.

  He seems quite pleased with himself. He’s actually humming a tune I can’t hear and tapping the steering wheel.

  And yet still I’d fuck you in a heartbeat, Lennon Lusk. I don’t know whether to be proud of myself or shoot myself in the head for wanting to fall into bed with this complex, innocent, playful, yet dangerous male. “So, are you one of those ‘take matters into your own hands�
� kind of vigilantes?” Not sure I want to know the answer.

  His eyes lock with mine but his expression is unreadable.

  “Maybe. If the law doesn’t work, I am. I mean, there’s no good reason for the way things turn out sometimes.”

  I’m pretty sure he’s talking about a lifetime of experiences.

  “Why on earth would such a beautiful town as Woodland Creek want to agree to the destruction of a pristine habitat like Nightmoon Creek? It’s home to otters -- real ones, not simply shifters – fish, birds, deer, bear…I could go on and on but you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, Lennon. I do,” I say, imagining I see intense, heartfelt compassion in his leaf green eyes. “But you wanted to put a zip line through it. Think that wouldn’t affect the environment once the local teens found out? It would turn into a testosterone jungle gym.” I chuckle. “Putting an end to that plan would have to be added to my list of good causes.”

  His eyes narrow. “What a lot of fun you are.” He turns his face toward the street and eases into the intersection.

  “I know a better spot for a zip line, anyway.”

  “Really?” he says, his eyes alight with excitement.

  “Scout’s honor. I’ll tell you if we don’t end up in jail.” I tear my gaze away from him and my eyes land on a police cruiser. “Quick, keep going. I’m kind of not wanting to be arrested.” I put my head down and angle it away from the window as we glide past the cop.

  When we’ve gone a few blocks without sirens screaming after us, Lennon says, “Care for some lunch? I’ll buy.”

  I narrow my eyes. He’s sure being nice to me. He’s probably doing it now we’re bonded in the cause to free Elena’s soul. “Uh, sure. But away from ARC. I don’t want to be caught anywhere near that place.” My head falls back against the headrest. “Gah! I nearly forgot. We’re the shunned now.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I know a cool little lunch joint in a nearby town. I doubt anyone knows or cares about the two of us there.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. Let’s go.”

  Forty minutes and far too much enjoyable conversation later we find ourselves in a small town called Alma, population five hundred twenty-three. We pull into a hole in the wall, run down, dive of a restaurant at the edge of town named Spiked Millie’s.