“You don’t know where he is?” Pan preened one of his wing feathers. “Interesting.”
I sensed I wasn’t going to get any more information about Byron’s whereabouts from Pax. I moved on to my other item of business. “I have a message for Morchard.”
“He won’t want to hear it. The only thing that will please him is if I bring him your head on a plate.”
“If he does that, he’ll bring the wrath of my new master down upon his head, and I know he won’t want to experience that again. So you can tell him that I’ve accepted my new master.” I nearly choked on the words. Pax gave me an amused nod. “You can tell him Gillespie is happy with the trade, and will not be seeking any further payment. You can tell him neither Gillespie nor I were responsible for the death of his son. So he is to release the woman he is holding.”
“You really expect me to tell him all that?” Pax’s pitch rose. He wasn’t just agitated. He was afraid.
“Run along. I’ll wait.”
“Very well.” Pax rolled his eyes at me, as though he thought the whole thing was pointless. But I watched the way his wing dipped as he flew off. He was definitely afraid.
He came back a few moments later, and he was grinning. And ravens are not naturally prone to grinning. My stomach sank.
“The master says that because of you Gillespie killed his son. He expects some kind of justice for that. He won’t return the girl until this is done. If you’re so determined to betray your masters, then you won’t have any problem obeying his demands. You will kill Sir Thomas Gillespie, or you will never see your precious Belinda again.”
3
Cole
“Fuck!”
I’d flown from Morchard Castle as soon as Pax had delivered Victor’s orders to me. I tried to fly around the castle and search of Belinda, but when I tried to veer off course, the ring throbbed with agonising urgency. I had finished the job of delivering the message, and now I had to return to my new master.
Pax followed me to the edge of the boundary, his talons raised towards me in a gesture of menace. The ring around my wing pulsed harder, calling me back to Sir Thomas. I flew towards him instinctively, soaring over the village and dipping down to Raynard Hall. I tried to veer off my course, but the ring surged again with searing heat, and I quickly righted myself again. I could sense exactly which room he was in, exactly which window would take me back to him.
Sir Thomas’s power over me terrified me. When I’d been with Morchard, I’d had some amount of free will – but with one handshake that had been stripped away. Now I was the puppet of a powerful vampire. There was no telling what he’d force me to do. The thought of it turned my stomach.
The only hope I had was that Sir Thomas’s wife might be more lenient with me. But, given she was supposedly in love with the most notorious vampire in the world, I didn’t think that was likely.
They’d kept the drawing-room window open. I flew through the gap and perched on the chair behind Sir Thomas’s head.
Ryan bent down to collect my clothes for me. “I’ll put them out in the hall for you,” he said to me. “Go out there to change and—”
“There is no need for that,” Sir Thomas said sharply. “I have received Morchard’s message.”
Of course. He could read my thoughts. Get out of my head. I screamed silently. That means you know that I—
“Morchard wishes Cole to kill me. He has told Cole that is the only way to get his precious Belinda back.” Sir Thomas inclined his head to me. “Cole knows better than to attempt this foolish request, which is why he’s flown back here to tell us.”
I nodded my head in assent. I’d have no chance of killing Sir Thomas when he had this level of control over me. Just being in the same room as Sir Thomas made me nervous. Unlike my last master, he was not human. He had a kind of magnetism. As he talked and his smooth voice washed over me, I found myself agreeing with what he said, even when I didn’t.
“Although,” Gillespie added. “Cole wishes he had the power to carry out the request, as he falsely believes I murdered his father in cold blood.”
Get out of my head. I screamed angrily. I lunged at his shoulder, ready to give him a sharp peck, but his power forced me off. I toppled off the back of the chair and landed in a heap on the floor, black feathers flying everywhere. It took me a few moments to untangle myself and fly back to my perch.
“So what can we do about Morchard?” Ryan frowned.
“I will attempt to smooth out this problem,” said Sir Thomas. “Morchard obviously has an issue with me. Personally, I do not care if he holds a grudge against me, as he has no way of hurting me, but I cannot have this woman mixed up in our affairs. There is a way to do these things, and this is not it. I will attempt to reason with him, although I fear my efforts will be futile.”
I tapped Sir Thomas on the shoulder with my beak, trying to signal my thanks. He frowned, skirting across the couch to get away from me. “Don’t touch me without permission, you filthy bird.”
Although his words hurt my ego, I hopped to Ryan’s couch, not wanting to anger him enough that he’d change his mind. I didn’t understand this man. He despised me and my kind, and yet he thought me a grand gift for his beloved. He had killed my father in cold blood, and yet he was willing to help me.
I tapped Ryan on the shoulder, and when he turned to look at me, jabbed the edge of my wing at the mantle clock. Ryan nodded, understanding the message. “When will you speak with Victor Morchard? Would you like me to arrange a meeting for you?”
“Not now,” Sir Thomas stared out the window, screwing his eyes up against the glare. “The heat of the day has drained me of energy. I am usually not up at this hour. I would like to return to my lodgings and rest.”
“Would you like to stay at Raynard?” Ryan asked. “We have plenty of rooms here for you and your staff. My butler Simon would happily attend to your needs, and here we are much more discreet than a hotel.”
“That would be much appreciated,” Sir Thomas inclined his head. “I accept your offer of hospitality. Have your servants make up my rooms immediately, for I need to rest. And tell Rudolpho to call the hotel and cancel my booking, and then inform my fiancée of this change in plans.”
Caw? I asked.
“No, I do not have anything for you to do.” Sir Thomas snapped. “Rudolpho and Leonard will guard my rooms, as they have done for years. You are to stay in Raynard Hall and not do anything foolish, is that clear?”
Caw.
Ryan sent Simon to escort Sir Thomas to one of the guest suites. He reached behind the couch and pulled out the stack of clothing I’d left behind, and tossed it to me. “Get dressed. We need to talk.”
I changed back into my human form, and pulled on my jeans.
“What did you see?” Ryan demanded. “Tell me everything. Anything might be a clue as to what’s happened to her.”
While I buttoned my shirt, I told Ryan everything that Pax had told me, and what little I’d seen around the castle. Outside the room, footsteps stampeded towards the door, and the girls burst in, surrounding us, chattering with indignation.
“I can’t believe him!” Alex exclaimed, grabbing hold of my arm and shaking me roughly. “That man is horrible! You can’t work for him.”
“I don’t have a choice—”
“Not if we have anything to say about it,” Elinor growled, jabbing a finger into my pec. “We just need to find a witch who can get that bloody ring off your finger.”
“I’ll talk to Ryan’s mother, Clara.” Alex declared. “She’s a powerful witch. Even if she can’t do the spell, she should know someone who can.”
“Mikael already talked to her.” I said. “She can’t perform the spell, but she was trying to find someone who could.”
“And that’s easier said than done,” Ryan pulled Alex away from me. “The spell to free a Bran is extremely complex, not to mention highly secret. The Bran masters have done a good job of hiding it over the centuries. I doubt t
here are many witches in the world who’d be able to perform it.”
“Then we’ll break Gillespie’s hold over him another way.” Elinor said, her brow knitted in determination. “I’m going to dig into the books in Ryan’s library. I want to know more about the Bran/master relationship, and the actual parameters of the arrangement. There must be some precedent for freedom, otherwise there wouldn’t be any rogue Bran. I’ll see if I can find some way legally to get you out of this.”
They stared at me with large eyes, their emotions written all over their faces. They felt sorry for me. Poor Cole, he’s a slave and he can’t even save the girl he loves. I knew they were just trying to make me feel better, but their pity forced anger to tighten my chest. Why was it me who was born into this servitude? Why did they have free will, and I didn’t? Why was I forced to stay here while Belinda was trapped in Morchard Castle, possibly being hurt?
I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t see through my rage. Every word I thought of was poisonous. So I turned on my heel, and ran from the room.
“Cole, wait!” Alex called after me. I heard Ryan’s voice telling her to leave me alone. I raced down the hall to the guest wing, yanked open the door to my allocated room, and slammed it behind me as hard as I could. The whole frame rattled on its hinges.
Morchard had Belinda. I knew it. I had to do something. I had to go to her, to try and free her. But even as the thought entered my mind, Sir Thomas’s will superseded it, using the pain he could make happen inside my body to tether me. I wasn’t going anywhere, not without his explicit permission.
I balled my hands into fists, and slammed them against the thick wooden door. Every punch drew out my anger, forcing it from my body, and every time my ring connected with the wood, a fresh wave of agony burst through my body. My knuckles burst with pain as I beat that door, until slivers of wood started to fall away and a splinter drove itself into my index finger.
“Fuck!”
I tore away from the door and flung myself down on the bed, wincing as I clasped my finger and pulled out the splinter. I glanced up at the door. The edge I’d attacked had buckled badly, the jagged edges of the splintered boards bent out like porcupine quills. It swung free on the hinges, and I suspected it now no longer closed properly. Great, Ryan lets me stay in his house and offers to spend a hundred grand of his own money buying my freedom, and I repay him by destroying his door.
Over the last couple of days he – and the girls – had been better friends to me than anyone else I’d ever known, and I’d repaid them in the same way I did to everyone, by shutting them out and pushing them away.
“Is this a bad time?” A muffled voice penetrated my thoughts.
I looked up at the door, wondering how I was doing to explain the damage, but there was no one there. A quick glance around the room revealed I was alone. So where had that voice come from? Sir Thomas wasn’t somehow pushing his thoughts into my head, was he? Because that would be fucking horrible—
“Come on, Cole, open the window. I can’t hang out here all night.”
I whirled around. Byron’s face glared at me from outside the window over the bed. He had his elbows up on the sill, and appeared to be trying to swing the rest of his body up on to the tiny, narrow ledge.
I leaned over the bed and pushed open the sash. Byron’s face contorted with effort as he managed to pull his torso up enough to lean against the window frame. He hung there for a moment, his breath coming out in short rasps.
“A little help would be appreciated, brother dearest.” He managed to unclamp his hand from the sill and grab the frame, slowing inching himself forward.
“If you don’t struggle for your achievements, you won’t appreciate them.”
“Ha ha, very funny. Seriously though, I am about to slip.”
Groaning, I rolled across the bed and grabbed him under the arms. He was naked, having just changed from his raven form, and his skin was so slick with sweat he slipped through my fingers. Bracing my feet against the wall, I pulled Byron through the window while he guided himself with his arms. With a final heave, I yanked him through the window, stumbling backwards as he collapsed against the bed, breathing hard. “You idiot, why did you change on the outside sill of all places?”
“I’ve been tapping on the window for the last ten minutes, but you were lying on the bed with your head up your arse or something. I needed to do something to get your attention.” Byron rolled over onto his stomach, pointing his arse up at me as he slumped against the pillows.
“Get up. You’re sweating all over the bed. I have to sleep there tonight.”
Byron didn’t move. He barely lifted his head as he mumbled into the sheets. “I expected you and your new master would be long gone by now. I flew downstairs to ask where you’d gone, and Ryan pointed up here.”
He wriggled forward a little, grinding his sweaty body deeper into the sheets. I screwed my face up. Wonderful, right where I was going to sleep. “Byron, could you please put some clothes on so I don’t have to look at your bare arse.”
“I can’t remember where I left my clothes.”
“There’s a ton in that closet of there.” I pointed. Byron lifted his head, but he didn’t move. “Go, now, before I push you out that window.”
Byron walked over to the closet and started rifling around amongst the clothes. “Christ in a dinner jacket, this must be where Ryan keeps all the clothes his mother buys for him. There’s not a thing in here I’d remotely consider wearing.”
“This isn’t America’s Next Top Model. Just choose something that will fit over your giant swollen head.”
Finally, he selected some beige trousers and a plain white shirt. As soon as he was decent, he flopped back down on the bed. “I am famished. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Could you call Jeeves and tell him I’ll have a corned beef sandwich, slathered in horseradish sauce.”
“His name is Simon, and you can call him yourself after we’ve had a little chat. Where the fuck have you been?”
“Where do you think I’ve been? I’ve been looking for your girl.”
He’d been out looking for Belinda? That was not what I’d expected him to say. Byron had made it clear he thought she was just another one of my conquests, and yet he’d been out looking for her? Was this his way of giving me some kind of peace offering, an apology for what he’d let me go through with our mother? I wanted to acknowledge it in some way, but I couldn’t think of the words. Byron and I had gone so many years without really talking, I couldn’t find a way to start now.
Instead, I said. “Morchard has her.”
“I know. I saw her.”
He’d seen Belinda? I leapt at him. “Is she OK? Where’s he holding her? Maybe we can—”
Byron held his hands up. “Relax, little brother. At least let me get Jeeves on the case first. Then I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”
I waited while Byron picked up the phone and called down to the kitchen with his food order. I noticed as he held the receiver, he kept his ring finger bent outward, as though he were trying to avoid touching the ring against the phone. The skin around his ring had started to redden. He’s officially not working for Morchard, I realised. He’s gone rogue.
Woah. That was huge.
Byron slammed the phone down again, and flopped back against the bed. “Your bakery shag is fine. He’s got her trapped in the yellow room, although I saw him walking her around the house earlier today, so I guess she has some freedom. Probably they’ve closed off the East wing.”
“She’s not injured?” I knew Morchard’s style. It would’ve been just like him to cut off some of her fingers or scar her beautiful skin somehow. I gripped the chair with my nails. The thought of him laying a finger on Belinda made my rage rise again.
“She looked fine to me, but I couldn’t get too close, so I can’t be sure. She was walking around though, so her legs haven’t been hobbled.”
I shot him a filthy look. “That is a relief, than
ks. But how is he keeping her there? Why doesn’t she just walk out the garden gate and leave?”
“That’s what I can’t figure out.” Byron said. “There’s no guard on her as far as I can tell. Not even Pax and Poe were watching her. They were both out on duty as normal. She’s not wearing any kind of cuff or restraint. I think he’s holding someone else there, as well. I saw shadows moving around on the second storey windows, as well.”
“Odd.”
“Yeah, I thought so, as well. The only other thing I did notice were all these ravens hanging around, perched all around the perimeter of the walled garden. Some were stationed in the trees nearest her window. But they weren’t doing anything, just sitting there, staring at the house.”
“Ravens? Not Bran?”
Byron shook his head. “Not a single one of them were Bran. Weird, huh?”
“Belinda wouldn’t know the difference.”
“I’d say she’d figure it out real quick.” Byron yawned. “I’m exhausted. Can I stay here tonight?”
“You’ll have to ask Ryan.”
“He’ll say it’s OK.” Byron stretched out across the bed, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. “Everyone else is.”
“You’re getting your own room.” I growled, grabbing him under the shoulders and dragging him up.
“Hey. I am exhausted from being out all night and day looking out for your girl—”
“And I appreciate it, but you’re not sleeping in here. This room is mine. I’ve been sharing a roost with you my entire life, and I’m not giving up my one chance for privacy just because you’re feeling a little sleepy.”
“Fine.” Byron made for the door. “I see your new master’s Bentley has just pulled in the driveway again.”
“Oh, that’s probably Leonard, back from the local funeral home, where he’s been all day trying to procure a coffin for Sir Thomas. Ryan invited his Lordship to stay here before his wedding. It’s in a couple of weeks’ time. Apparently she’s the daughter of some local noble family, and the wedding’s going to be quite the affair.”
Reaper: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 2) Page 5