A Shadow of Crows

by Yasmine Galenorn

  I bristled, but tried to keep my reaction to myself. Whether a god had ordered the murders to be carried out or they were the actions of a psychopath didn’t seem to matter. And it wouldn’t make any difference to the victims, either.

  The Morrígan cleared her throat. “First, any priest of mine who committed such an act would be disowned. As you should know, I do not require living sacrifices. My job is to cleanse the battlefield. The only souls we take are those who are ready to transition. However, I think I know of whom you are speaking.”

  I caught my breath, hoping she’d have a name for us.

  “About six months ago, I expelled a member of my priesthood. His name is Lucius, and he’s Dark Fae. He had been convicted of attacking several members of TirNaNog. Before they could punish him—they consulted me before meting out a sentence, and I agreed that they could impose whatever they wished—he vanished. He managed to escape his captors, and vanished into the city. A little over two months ago, he came to me, pleading for sanctuary. I expelled him from the ranks, and replaced him with another priest, named Garrison. Unfortunately, Lucius tried to attack Garrison. Again, he got away before I could punish him.”

  “Garrison—that’s the name Hassa mentioned hearing his attacker say.”

  “I’m not surprised. Lucius was devoted to being my priest, even though he grew addled.” She leaned forward, pointing to the pictures of the murdered men that Herne had laid out. “They all have the same build and look as Garrison. If he’s murdering lookalikes, then he’s totally off his rocker. I believe your murderer is Lucius. He also fits the description given by your witness. He’s tall and burly, although not overtly tall. He bears my symbols on his face and his hands.”

  “Is there anything else we should know about him?” Herne asked. “What kind of magic can he use?”

  “Actually, he doesn’t have much magic of his own. Some very basic spells but nothing that can do much. But he does have a way with crows and ravens, and I know he collected them as pets. If he’s siccing them against his victims, that would anger me greatly, given crows are my chosen creatures. But he’s intelligent, and crafty. If he truly has devolved to the point of murdering substitutes, consider him a deadly enemy. I keep track of where my priests live, and I can give you the last address I had for him. I hadn’t bothered going after him, thinking the attack on Garrison was a final exit, if you will. I’ll text it to you when I get back to my palace.” She looked so grave that I almost wanted to comfort her.

  “I’m sorry we had to bother you with this,” Herne said. “But we have to put a stop to him, and the local authorities are doing nothing, given the men murdered were all on the outs with Saílle. But then again, most of the Fae who aren’t on the outs with the queens live within TirNaNog and Navane.”

  “Honestly, sometimes I like to strip the entire Fae race of their powers.” She glanced at me, adding, “No offense intended, Ember, but your people make it hard to empathize with them. The fact that they are encouraging the authorities to look the other way turns my stomach.”

  “It turns mine too,” I said. “I may be Fae, but they don’t accept me as one of their own.”

  She nodded. “Understood. I’ll be going now, but I’ll text you as soon as I have that address. Oh, and when you catch him, if you catch him alive, turn him over to me and I’ll take care of punishment.” Her eyes grew dark, and the tone of her voice told me that Lucius had better pray he didn’t come out of this alive. I shuddered as she stood and, without another word, vanished from Herne’s house.

  WE WERE ON the way back to the office when the Morrígan’s text came through. Herne asked me to check his phone when the notification sounded, and sure enough, it was from her. It still boggled my mind that the gods used cell phones, but it made sense to keep track of technology in a world in which you were worshipped. Which brought to mind another thought.

  “Are the gods worshipped on other worlds?” I frowned. “You guys don’t necessarily live in this particular physical realm. Take Annwn, for example. Can you reach it from other worlds?”

  Herne glanced at me, a faint smile on his face. “Yes, you can. You can reach most of the realms through the astral plane. So it stands to reason that if someone on another planet is able to dimension-shift, they could find Annwn. Or Valhalla, or a number of other realms.”

  “You didn’t quite answer my first question.” I wasn’t sure whether to repeat it. I wasn’t entirely sure how to process the answer if it was yes.

  “Why don’t we save that discussion for another time,” Herne said. “So, was that the Morrígan who texted?”

  I noticed how quickly he dodged the issue, but decided not to push it. For one thing, it wasn’t important right now. For another, one thing I knew about the gods: if they didn’t want to answer something, they wouldn’t, regardless of how hard you pushed.

  “Yes, it was. Lucius’s address is located in—wait for it—the UnderLake District. No surprise there.” I paused, then asked, “So, head there next?”

  “No. We go back to the office now that we have his name and address. I’ll have Yutani and Talia look him up first, and probably send Viktor out to check out the house from the exterior. Lucius is crafty and dangerous, and the fact that he’s a psycho just makes it worse. I want to know what we’re getting into before we rush in.”

  When we arrived back to the office, we filled them in on what it happened. Herne assigned Viktor to take off and see if he could pick up on Lucius’s trail, cautioning him to stay out of sight. Yutani and Talia went to work on researching his background.

  Herne turned to me. “Why don’t you and Angel leave early? You guys have been pulling a lot of hours. Since I’m tied up with Danielle until Sunday, that gives you a little breathing space.” He paused, gently placing his hands on my shoulders. “I want to spend the evenings this week with her. This may be the last time I see of her for a while.”

  I nodded. “Understandable. Tell her I said hello.”

  Angel and I headed for home after tidying up our offices. As Angel sat on my bed while I hung up some clothes I had washed the night before, she tried to figure out what she was going to wear for her date with Rafé.

  “He said we’re going out to dinner. I can’t decide between jeans and a nice top, or a dress. He said it’s casual, so I don’t want to overdo it. But I don’t want to look like a slob, either.”

  I laughed. “Let me tell you something, woman. You never look like a slob. I look like a slob sometimes, but I have never once seen you appear anything but neat and tidy. Why don’t you wear that sparkly gold top over a pair of white jeans? You’d look striking.”

  I followed her into her room, where she tried on the outfit in question. Against her ebony skin, it looked absolutely stunning. She threaded a black belt through the jeans, and it set off both the gold lamé of her tank top and the crisp white of the denim.

  “You’re right. This is perfect. It will work on the dance floor as well as in a restaurant. I’ll pair it with a pair of black ankle boots.” As she sat on her bed to pull on the boots, I sorted through her handbags and pulled out a white hobo bag. It was blinged out with plenty of gold hardware, and would look good with the outfit.

  “There you go. Take this. What are you going to wear for a jacket?”

  She frowned, then shrugged. “Maybe my short brown trench? If so, I’ll change my belt to a brown one.”

  I concurred, and in another five minutes, she was ready to go. She had pulled her hair back into a chignon and added thin gold hoop earrings and a crystal necklace for finishing touches. As she fastened the necklace around her neck, the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it. That should be Rafé.” I dashed down the stairs, dodging Mr. Rumblebutt who was splayed out at the bottom. Sure enough, it was Rafé.

  “Come on in. Why don’t you wait in the living room? Angel will be down in a moment.” I paused, then turned back to him. “Listen, dude. Angel’s probably going to kil
l me for this, but I don’t care. She’s my best friend. She and I have history.”

  “Okay. What is it?”

  “Just this. If you hurt her, I hope you can run fast and far. Get it?”

  Instead of acting insulted, Rafé smiled. “Loud and clear. I promise, even if for some reason it doesn’t work out, I’m on my best behavior. But I like Angel, and I want her to enjoy herself tonight.” He paused, then added, “I know that this may be a touchy subject, but don’t think that I looked down on you because of your parentage. Because I don’t.”

  I held his gaze for a moment, but saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. I nodded, then turned as Angel joined us.

  “I’m ready,” she said. She glanced at Rafé, then at me. “Ember, did you give him the warning?”

  I laughed, shrugging. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I’m just doing what you and I have done for each other for years.”

  “I’m sure.” She snorted. “Come on Rafé, let’s head out.”

  Laughing, he joined her, and they both waved as they left.

  I shut the door, silently wishing them a wonderful evening. Angel deserved find someone worthy of her, and I hope to hell Rafé meant what he said. Turning back to Mr. Rumblebutt, who was staring up at me with a look that said “dinner time,” I scooped him up in my arms.

  “Are you hungry? Come on, babe, I’ll get you some food.”

  I carried him in the kitchen, nuzzling him as I went. Once there, I put him on the counter as I pulled out a can of cat food. I set the dish down and refilled his water fountain, thinking that it was almost time to clean it. Then I decided to take the easy way out for dinner and phoned to order a pizza. Then, setting my phone on the counter, I unstrapped my dagger and took it off, relieved to be done for the day. I headed into the living room afterward, looking forward to some downtime.

  While I was waiting for the pepperoni and extra cheese to be delivered, I curled up in the living room to watch TV. It’d been a long time since I had just had an evening to myself, and I decided to catch up on some of my fave programs. I had DVR’d four episodes of Magic Nights, a drama about a psychic who solved crimes, and a whole string of various other programs that I had wanted to see. I was ten minutes into English Gardens Explored when the doorbell rang.

  “Boy, the pizza got here fast,” I said to Mr. Rumblebutt, who was sitting on the sofa next to me, licking his paws after a quick bite to eat. I grabbed the twenty that I had set on the foyer console. But as I opened the door, I faced an unwelcome surprise.

  There, staring at me with piercing eyes, was my grandfather.

  Chapter 18

  “WHAT THE HELL are you doing here?” I stumbled back, totally surprised. “I told you I never wanted to see you again. What the fuck are you doing at my doorstep?”

  Farthing, my grandfather, arched his eyebrows. “I thought you might want to know that your grandmother died.” His voice was so cold and collected that it threw a chill into me.

  “So, did you kill her too?”

  He had been responsible for my father’s death, and had conspired in my mother’s death. He would have had me killed, too, if I had been home—he had admitted that much.

  “Is that the best you can come up with?” he said. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  I sputtered. “You think I would invite you into my house? That I would allow you entry into my life in any way? Didn’t Morgana have a little talk with you? She said she was going to.”

  “Unfortunately, Cernunnos’s pussy cat did come knocking at my door, but I have no love for the gods, or for their opinions of me. Now I ask you once again, are you going to let me in?” He leaned against the doorframe as though he owned it, which just infuriated me more.

  “I’ll let you in my house the day Saílle shows up at my doorstep asking for tea. Get the fuck away from me and stay away.” I started to shut the door, but he threw his shoulder against it, slamming it open and knocking me down in the process.

  I scrambled to get to my feet, but he was in and had shut the door behind him before I could stand. My shoulder aching, I pulled myself off the floor.

  “If you don’t leave, I’ll kill you. You have ten seconds to get out.” I was furious now.

  “I’m here to give you one last chance. I know you haven’t gone through the Cruharach yet, but rumor has it you’re nearing the time. I can make it much easier for you, and as my heir, life will be out lot more pleasant for you in the Dark Court.” His eyes were blazing.

  “This again?”

  He had offered me the chance to go through a ritual that would eradicate my mother’s blood from my body, leaving me pure Dark Fae. Then, he told me, he would make me his heir.

  “Saílle doesn’t believe I know the process. But I do.”

  “I’ll see you in hell before I ever accept your offer. Morgana will strike you down for this.”

  I reached for my phone, intending to call Herne, but realized I’d left it on the living room coffee table.

  Farthing laughed. “I told you, I don’t care what the gods say. You would choose to stay a filthy tralaeth when you could join forces with me? Your mother’s blood diluted you more than I feared.”

  Before I could react, he whipped out a long knife. The blade gleamed, finely honed, and it was barbed with fine teeth. The metal glinted with an unnatural glow.

  “Time to finish what should have been finished years ago.”

  He leaped toward me, sweeping the knife up in a stab toward my stomach.

  I managed to dance out of the way just in time to avoid being gutted. I had taken off my dagger when I got home, and it was on the kitchen table by my phone. Breathing hard, I took a running jump and vaulted the back of the sofa, heading for the kitchen, screaming for Mr. Rumblebutt to get out of the way. He dashed up the stairs.

  I entered the kitchen, but I was only a few steps ahead of my grandfather. I spun, grabbing my knife as I did so. Bringing it to bear, I swung a chair between Farthing and me.

  “Leave now, and you can leave with your life,” I said. “If you choose to pursue this, you aren’t walking out of here.”

  He snorted. “I’ve fought more battles in the thousand years I’ve been alive than you can ever dream of. Don’t hold much hope of winning this one.”

  He tossed the chair aside.

  I grabbed one of the knives out of the butcher’s block. I didn’t want to let go of my dagger, but I sent the five-inch-long boning knife flying, managing to peg him in the shoulder. He let out a soft yelp, but merely reached for the hilt and yanked it out, casting it to the side.

  “Not a bad throw, Ember, but then you do have the Autumn Stalker blood in you. My blood and your grandmother’s blood.”

  I realized that I was caught between the wall of cupboards and the kitchen island. I could climb over it, but I would lose valuable time because it wasn’t as easy to vault as the sofa had been. Even though I was adept and trained to fight, Farthing was correct in one thing. He had centuries of treachery behind him. I wasn’t sure I could win the fight against him.

  The fear reached deep, clenching me in the gut, and I felt something shift. I heard myself snarl and, before I realized what I was doing, I opened my mouth and began to sing. I didn’t know what I was singing, the language was one I didn’t understand, but the melody echoed from my throat, filling the kitchen as it reverberated off the walls to weave a web.

  My grandfather froze, staring at me with a terrified look on his face.

  I sang as though my life depended on it. As the music swept me up, I lost myself in it, and the ancient words became ones I could understand. I was hearing the song as if it were echoing from the stereo rather than coming from my lips.

  You are weary, you are failing. You are thirsty, you are flailing.

  You are hungry, you’re alone, I hear you crying with a moan.

  You are aching, you’re in pain. You are drowning in the rain.

  C
ome to me, lonely man. Reach out and take my hand.

  I’m your garden, I’m your joy. You are my winning, lovely toy.

  Come to me, hear my call. I am your only, one, and all.

  I held out my hands, a thirst so deep within me rising up like a light. It surrounded me with a nimbus of blue mist, floating over to surround my grandfather.

  He stuttered, looking confused, and dropped the knife that he was carrying. As he reached out, crying, I took hold of his hand and pulled him roughly to me. I leaned down, my lips an inch from his. He stared at me, his eyes filled with fear and wonder.

  He opened his mouth and I began to draw his breath and life force into me, breathing deeply, drinking his soul, drinking his life, drinking every drop of his energy and essence. I drained him there, clutching him tighter as he struggled to get away. He screamed, unable to pull out of my embrace. I reveled in the act, feeling my power grow as his fear increased.

  I grabbed hold of his ponytail, yanking his hair back as I stared into his eyes. He was still making feeble attempts to get away, but I was stronger than he was, the spell empowering me to hold him in my grasp. I stared into those cold and vicious eyes, and laughed.

  “And you thought you could kill me, you petty little man. You thought you could change me. You thought you could control me. How frail you are.”

  “Ember, let me go—” His voice was faint. There was very little life left in him.

  His plea fell like ice, shattering at my feet.

  “Let you go? When you came here to destroy me? You think you’re ruthless? Look ruthless in the face. Welcome it in your own death.”

  And then, I caught his breath again, draining the last drops of life out of his body. The next moment, he collapsed on the floor. I nudged him with my foot, staring at his lifeless body, sneering at him.

  Another moment, and the spell broke.

  I was back in control, staring at the corpse of my grandfather.