by Jen Pretty
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BLACK CROW
Jen Pretty
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SOONER OR LATER EVEN THE
FASTEST RUNNERS HAVE TO
STAND AND FIGHT
—STEVEN KING
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CHAPTER ONE
I pulled my hoodie up to cover my long hair and strode
through the darkened streets. Murkwood Cemetery was a
few blocks away. It was my favourite in the city because it
was dark and big enough, I could hide from view over a
small hill, giving me all the privacy I needed.
Sometimes teenagers would drink among the
gravestones, but they never saw me in my dark clothes.
The skin prickled on my neck, and I spun around. I
surveyed the street but didn’t see anyone behind me. A cat
meowed from an alley. I huffed a laugh at myself for being
so jumpy. I should be used to the dark by now, but it still
gave me the creeps. It was ridiculous, considering.
The dew had already fallen as I walked across the grass
between the gravestones. Water collected on my boots and
flicked off my toes with each step. My fingers ran over the
tops of the granite monuments. Marking the places where
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those long-passed were laid to eternal rest. Well, eternal
was a bit false.
Something familiar stirred inside me and beckoned me
towards a back corner of the old graveyard. The grave I
wanted came into view, lit up like the fourth of July on the
moonlit night. Sparks danced around the space where a
family had laid a body to rest decades ago, summoning me
to join.
I stepped forward, the pressure inside me growing
towards an overwhelming crescendo. My boots met the
edge of the glowing rectangle a moment before my knees
met the wet grass. The flames swirled and consumed me,
flowing into a circle of blue sparks, encircling the grave of
a man named Edward Mass.
I took out my pocketknife and slit my forearm.
As the first drop of blood slid off my skin and into the
grass, the blue glitter sunk into the earth. A moment later
I was sitting in the grass with an elderly man.
Except the man was shadowy and hollow, like the
wraith, he was.
“Hey, Edward. How’s it going?” I asked, settling into
the grass. All the fire that had collected in my body had
drained away, and I felt relaxed and giddy.
“I’m so alone,” he whispered.
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I looked around and realized the grave beside his, with
the name Margaret Mass, had a date of birth but no date of
death. Poor lady was still kicking somewhere.
“I’m sure she will be along soon.” I calculated her age;
she would be one hundred and one years old this year. I
hoped I didn’t live that long
“Have you seen my wife?” he asked. Some spirits were
coherent; others just blathered about random things, so I
was glad this sad fellow at least made sense.
“I haven’t seen her, Ed.”
He started to fade, his image weakening.
“Been nice talking to ya,” I said. A smile creased his
face, bringing a flash of life to his weary eyes.
I squeezed my arm, dripping more blood into the grass
and Ed faded away to nothing.
I rose and dusted off my pants, my butt was damp from
the dew, but I’d sat in worse. It was unbelievable how many
people let their dog’s poop in graveyards. Disrespectful.
I wiped my knife on my pants and folded it up, tucking
it away in my pocket. The thin cut had stopped bleeding
and crusted over. I would wash it when I got home. The
small slice, though slow to heal, wouldn’t leave a scar no
matter how many times I sliced in the same place.
Handy for someone like me.
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I turned towards the street, the moon guiding my
footsteps between the tombstones. Up ahead I thought I
saw movement in a shadow again. The hairs rose on the
back of my neck, and I halted.
A figure stepped out into the streetlight. I was a few
hundred feet from the sidewalk, but stood still, so did the
figure. I assumed it was a man, based on his height and
width of his shoulders. He wore a broad-brimmed hat,
pulled low to hide his features in shadows, and a long
trench coat. When he didn’t move, I started to move
parallel to the street, trying to get around him.
“Shit,” I whispered, tripping over a flat grave marker. I
looked back, but the man had disappeared. Scanning the
area, there was no sign of him.
I hustled back to the sidewalk and towards my
apartment, looking over my shoulder every few steps. Had
he seen what I did in the graveyard? He couldn’t have. I
was way in the back — freaking weirdo.
✽ ✽ ✽
Back in my apartment, I flicked on the TV and flopped
down on my futon. I lived in a tiny bachelor apartment a
few blocks from work. The news on TV was still talking
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about the dead girl who washed up on the bank of the river
last week. They hadn’t identified her yet.
I flipped to a sitcom and lay down, pulling my blanket
over myself. The sound of the baby crying in apartment
6D came through the thin walls, and I turned up the TV a
bit louder to compensate.
By the time the show was over, the baby was sleeping,
and my eyes were getting heavy. I flicked off my lamp and
fell asleep.
✽ ✽ ✽
Squeezing my eyes shut, I blocked out the heat from
the grill as I flipped a burger patty the next day. I could do
this in my sleep. My hand automatically scooped and
turned effortlessly as the grease sizzled. To my right, an
order of onion rings danced in a deep fryer — my specialty.
“Move your ass, Selena, I got more orders coming,”
Angela said. She stabbed four more slips of paper to the
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wall above the window between my little kitchen and the
dining area.
“Shit,” I whispered, pulling the rings out of the grease
and shaking the excess off before dumping them in the
paper-lined basket.
I plopped three burgers on the prepared buns and
plated them with fries held in the warmer. All the plates
went into the window, and I hit the bell to let Angela know
they were ready. Every shift was the same, the spitting
grease, the sizzles, the bell, but predictable was perfect for
me. I knew where everything was and where everything
went. The kitchen was my oasis.
“God, people don’t realize their leftovers could feed
starving children in Africa,” Georgia muttered. She set a
stack of plates beside the sinks on the opposite side of the
kitchen. “You.” She pointed at me as I put lettuce on buns
for the hamburgers I was cooking. “You have to come out
&nbs
p; with us tonight. We’re going to the new club on 5th street.
It's supposed to be amazing.”
I groaned.
“Come on! I want to see the new DJ, Vanessa said he
was hot.”
“Vanessa says everyone is hot.” I checked the new
orders and put on two more baskets of onion rings. I was
running low on onion rings. Busy night.
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“Yes, but she’s always right. She has great taste in
men.”
I laughed and plated more burgers and fries. “How
about this, I’ll come but just for a few hours? I have to
work tomorrow morning again.”
“You won’t regret it,” she said as she dashed off to
gather more dishes.
Pretty sure I would regret it, I shook my head and
focused on my work. I flipped burgers and plated orders
until closing time, not a single moment of rest until the last
customer left and the doors locked.
“You should come to my place, I have something you
can wear,” Georgia said. She hopped up to sit on the
counter while I scraped the grease trap and closed up the
kitchen for the night.
“All right, but nothing too short. I want to be able to
sit down without flashing my underwear. And no high
heels.” My hair kept falling in my face. I should have kept
the stupid itchy hair net on till I finished.
“Hey, Selena. Here are your tips.” Angela put a handful
of coins in the window and walked away. I looked from the
money to Georgia who was biting her lip to keep from
laughing.
“You’re buying the first round,” I said, and she burst
out, her laughter echoing through the empty restaurant.
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When the kitchen was clean enough, I flicked off the
lights and locked the door behind us. We strolled down the
street towards Georgia's apartment arm in arm. She only
lived three blocks away. We passed my apartment building,
and my legs tried to carry me to my bed. Georgia’s firm
grip on my arm dragged me the rest of the way to her place.
Her building had an elevator that worked, the one in
my building had not worked a day since I moved in two
years ago. Luckily, I didn’t have much stuff. Georgia, on
the other hand, packed her apartment with knick-knack's
and furniture and kitchen appliances. I usually baked in her
kitchen since mine only had a coffee maker and one pot I
used for everything. Georgia was a hoarder, but a lovable
one. She and I became fast friends on my first day of work
in the diner.
“Here, try this on,” she said, throwing something
sequined at me. I thought it was a shirt, but as I held it up,
I realized it was a dress. Or at least trying to be a dress.
Maybe for a doll.
“It’s way too short,” I complained.
“Just try it, it stretches,” she muttered as she climbed
back out of her overstuffed closet. There was no way she
found anything in there.
I stepped into the bathroom and out of my French fry
scented work clothes. I pulled the tiny dress on, looked in
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the mirror and sighed. She would say it’s perfect, so I
accepted my fate.
“The dress is fine. I'll have a quick shower,” I called
through the door as I turned on the hot water. Music
started up from the living room.
I showered and blow dried my long dyed brown hair.
The colour was fading making it look almost strawberry
blond. I would have to dye it again soon, or the natural
colour would come through. Stark white hair made me
stand out, and that was a dangerous thing to do -- standing
out. My adoptive mother would have a cow if she saw me
in this bright glittery dress. It did not blend in.
I stepped out of the bathroom, and there was a pair of
foot-killing, three-inch heels sitting against the wall. I could
have argued, but Georgia was really much better at the
clothes and shoes. In Georgia I trust. I slipped them on
and clicked my way across the laminate floor to the kitchen
where I found Georgia ready to hit the club.
“Oh my God, you look so hot! I don’t know why you
always wear boring clothes. If I had your body, I would
never wear clothes,” she gushed, grabbing my hand and
spinning me around.
“Why am I friends with you?” I asked, laughing at her
antics.
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“Because I’m the only one who would talk to you,
loner. Now let’s go. We have men to drool over.”
She hooked her arm in mine, and we walked out to the
cab that was waiting at the curb for us.
People packed the club. Georgia grabbed my hand as
soon as we walked in and dragged me to the bar. If she
hadn’t, the writhing masses would have swallowed me, and
I would have never found my way out. The music pounded
in my chest like a second heartbeat, but the DJ was great.
We hadn’t set eyes on him yet, but his music was the best
I heard in the city.
As we waited for our drinks, I couldn’t sit, thanks to
the ultra-short dress I was wearing. I knew I would regret
this. Georgia pulled me and my martini to the side of the
room where the rest of her friends were standing around a
high table.
“Georgie!” Vanessa called out, running small little
steps on 6-inch heels to throw her arms around Georgia.
She grabbed me next and pulled me into a group hug,
bouncing.
“Did you guys see the DJ?” She pointed towards the
front of the nightclub.
“No, we just got here,” Georgia yelled back.
Vanessa screamed and dragged us both away. I waved
over my shoulder to the gang who were watching us and
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laughing. Vanessa was a hurricane, and God help you if you
were in her path. She pulled us to the side wall so we could
get a look at this gorgeous guy.
We all went on tiptoes to see past the crowd. The music
was so loud, I almost didn't notice the tingle in my
fingertips, but when my eyes caught on the man in the
booth, I clenched my fists and locked the tingle down
before it got out of control. The DJ looked like a drool-
worthy 20-something. His hair was blue and cut in an edgy
style that lots of guys were doing now — shaved on the
sides and longer on top. He was tall and lithe, with a strong
jaw that could have put him on the cover of any magazine,
but he wasn’t a person.
He was a vampire.
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CHAPTER TWO
I slunk back against the wall and took deep breaths
while Georgia and Vanessa were still ogling the dead guy.
Controlling the magic that tried to lash out was easy most
of the time, but around dead stuff, it had a mind of its own.
I threw back the last of my martini, hissed at the burn of
alcohol and moved back to the bar for a refill.
“Did you see him?” Vanessa gushed as she and
Georgia caught up to me.
“Yeah, he’s great!” I yelle
d over the music. The
bartender was a young guy with lots of piercings. He gave
me a wink as he set a second martini on the bar for me and
I shot him a grin.
Vanessa and Georgia disappeared, probably to the
bathroom, so I took my drink and slipped through the
crowd to where the guys were standing.
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The group had been friends long before I came along.
They went to the same school and still hung out on Friday
nights and played in a recreational baseball team together.
It was what I wished for. Roots.
They never made me feel like an outsider intentionally,
but their history together was so long, I felt that way
anyway.
When Georgia and Vanessa returned, we all danced for
a few hours. I kept my back to the DJ so my magic
wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want it too. I was hot and
sweaty by the time midnight rolled around, partly because
the club was hot, but also from focusing so hard on not
exploding. I felt it the moment the DJ left. My magic finally
calmed under my skin. The music was on a loop now, but
no one really noticed since they were all drunk.
“I’m going to go,” I yelled to the group after checking
the time.
“NO! Stay!” Vanessa screamed.
I smiled and shook my head and then tapped my wrist
like there was a watch on it.
Vanessa’s pout rivalled any four years old around the
world, but Georgia hugged me and said good night. I
waved to the rest of the group and pressed my way out into
the cool night air.
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“You shouldn’t walk alone,” the bouncer said as I
walked down the steps and passed the cab waiting at the
curb.
“I’m just going to call a cab,” I said, lifting my cell so
he could see it.
“Be careful.”
I thanked him over my shoulder. As I turned back, I
ran straight into a hard chest.
“Whoa, you OK?” a male voice asked.
I jumped back, realizing it was the DJ from the
nightclub — the vampire — when my magic jumped to
life.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just, in a hurry, sorry,” I said, stepping
past him and hustling up the street.