I closed my eyes, and started to change.
5
Belinda
I awoke to a heavy thud in the living room. At first, I thought it must have been Chairman Meow knocking over the dishes I had precariously stacked beside the sink. But then I remembered Chairman Meow was still locked in my room, and I became aware of his heavy, snoring lump pressed against my leg.
Then I remembered the raven. Maybe he’s knocked over the box, or he’s flown out somehow and set about breaking every last thing I own. And since I barely owned anything now, I wanted to keep what little I did have intact. I swung my feet out of bed and groggily felt around for the light switch.
As I reached for the door handle, I heard a man curse.
My blood turned cold. There was someone else inside my apartment. I distinctly remembered locking the shop door before I’d gone to bed. The only way up to the apartment was the stairs at the back of the kitchen, unless you scaled the wall and had come in the bathroom window, which would be impossible unless you were Spiderman.
So how had this guy got in? And what did he want?
The last thing I needed was a break-in, but if this supervillain was just after money, why had he come up to the flat? One look at my shabby junk shop couch and chipped dishes and he would head across the road to rob the Kwik-e-Mart. Kwik-e-Mart owners were always rich.
Now I could hear someone moving around.
Fear paralysed me. My hand trembled against the handle. What if he wasn’t here for money? What if he knew I was a woman, living alone above a shop, on a street where hardly anyone else would be after dark? What if he had some other purpose in mind?
What should I do? My days as a Girl Guide hadn’t prepared me for this. I know, I’ll call the police. I kept my phone by my bed. As quietly as possible, I tiptoed back toward my dresser—
—my foot caught on the Chairman’s belly. He howled in protest as I tumbled forward, flinging my hands out to save my fall. I landed heavily against the stack of plastic tubs I’d been using as a dresser, knocking my phone and several empty tea cups off in the process. These clattered against the floor, and the Chairman dodged through the raining ceramics, meowing at the top of his lungs that he’d just hopped down to help me investigate, and that was no reason to pelt him with crockery.
In the other room, the noise completely stopped.
Shit.
The intruder knew I was awake. If he heard me on the phone, I’d be one dead baker. I couldn’t call the police now. All that separated me from the assailant who could be carrying any of a number of terrible weapons was the flimsy door of my bedroom. A door I couldn’t even lock.
I was trapped. The only way out of the flat was in the other room. My bedroom had a single, narrow window, high on the wall, and even if I could loosen the ancient sash wide enough to fit through, it was a two-storey drop down to the street below. There was no conveniently-placed cart of straw or shop awning to save my fall, like there always was in the films.
If I waited for him to enter the bedroom, I’d be screwed. There was nowhere for me to hide. However, the living room had a few more obstacles: the couch, the sacks of flour, the cat trees. Instead of standing here like a frozen target, I’d be better to take my chances in the room beyond, hope that I can duck around him, maybe trip him up with a cat tree, and escape down the stairs before he caught me. It was a stupid plan, but it was the only plan I had. I hoped he didn’t have an accomplice waiting down in the shop.
I glanced around my room, hunting for something I could use as a weapon. My eyes fell on my umbrella propped up in the corner of the room. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. I grabbed it, lifted it above my head, and gripped the door handle with a trembling hand.
It was now or never. I took a deep breath, and raised the umbrella behind my head, ready to strike. I pushed open the door.
The man was hunched over the couch, standing on one of the cushions and crouched down as if he were playing leap frog. He stared down at the box I’d been using to hold the raven, the cardboard now crushed and torn into large pieces that were strewn across the floor. My standing lamp had been overturned, and I could see long, jagged tears along the upholstery of the couch. The place looked as if a wild animal had been loose inside it.
Which I guess was exactly what had happened. This man didn’t seem to be a typical intruder, the kind you saw on crime shows with shifty eyes and a black hoodie. For starters, he appeared to be naked, his dark skin criss-crossed with intricate tattoos. His shoulders bulged with muscles, and his chest was sculpted like a male model. His face was obscured by a mane of long black hair, curling into ringlets at the ends. As he turned toward me, his piercing eyes met mine.
“You?” I cried in disbelief as I recognised him. It was the man from the bakery, the hot biker bad boy who’d flirted with me and had bought the Heaven and Hell cake. The man who didn’t ask me out, but who had been playing on my mind ever since I’d lain eyes on him. Of all the people I expected to find in my flat, he was not one of them.
He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strange croak. He looked lost, confused, as if he desperately wanted to explain something but didn’t know where to begin.
“Is this what all the flirting was about?” I snapped, inching my way into the room and along the wall, trying to close the distance between myself and the door. “You were distracting me while you cased the joint? Looking for where I hid my safe? My big flour sacks with dollar signs painted on them?”
“While I was … casing the joint?” The naked biker finally found his voice, and it was still that deep, gravelly, incredibly sexy voice, although now it was dripping with confusion. He held up his hands, showing that he wasn’t carrying a weapon. And I couldn’t see a knife or gun strapped to his, ah, naked body. “Um … I know this looks bad, but I can explain—”
Chairman Meow chose that exact moment to shoot out between my two legs, leap up on to the arm of the couch, pull back his ears and hiss at the stranger. The cat’s back arched and his fur fluffed up as if he’d stuck his tail into a power outlet. I’d never seen him look like that before.
“Woah!” The man held up his hands as the Chairman swiped at his wrist with his claws. “Easy there, boy!”
“Don’t touch him!” I cried out, terrified this guy might be some kind of deranged cat killer.
“I won’t, I won’t, I’m sorry.” The guy slid back along the couch. As he did this, his legs moved and I got quite an eyeful of … everything. And there was quite a lot of it to eye. He was the most well-endowed criminal I’d ever encountered, and I’d had more than the usual exposure to criminal types.
“Just ... stay there and don’t move.” I jerked the end of my umbrella in his direction, as I moved closer to the stairs. “I won’t call the police or anything, I’d just appreciate it if you left.”
“You know, you make one hell of a cake. I haven’t been able to get you … I mean, it … off my mind all day.” He flashed me that heart-melting, devil-may-care smile. But this time, I didn’t find it sexy, I found it terrifying. Had he been following me, waiting under the window until he saw the lights go out? “Look, I’m not here to hurt you. You weren’t even supposed to see me like this. It’s all a bit of a mistake—”
“Are you here to rape me?” I asked, startled by the crassness of my question. “Because just so you know, I intend to put up a fight. I know karate.”
I didn’t, but he didn’t have to know that. People thought all Asians knew karate, and I was happy to play on the stereotype if it would save my ass.
His eyes flashed. “Of course not. I’d never touch you, unless you wanted me to.”
“Hey, you can’t get offended. You’re the one sitting naked in my apartment in the middle of the night.” Suddenly, realisation dawned. I groaned. How could I have been so stupid not to see it? “Let me guess, you’re high, right? You have the munchies and you thought you’d break in and try to steal some pastries? You needed money to
pay for your next hit? Well, you’re going to be very disappointed when you open the till.”
“That’s not it.” The man held out both hands, palms up. “Please, I can explain. Just stop talking for a second so I can get the words out.”
“Fine, but you’d better start explaining.” I adjusted my grip on the umbrella. “Or I’ll start swinging.”
“And you know karate, right?” The man shot me that adorable grin. “Is that an umbrella? What were you going to do, poke me to death?”
“Look, you’re the one who broke into my house, so if you’re going to mock my choice of defensive weapon, you can bloody well pack up and leave.”’
“I didn’t break in,” he said simply. “You brought me here. And now I can’t leave, because I need your help, and also because I’m not wearing pants.”
I snorted. “Excuse me? You came in here because you want my help? You’re not making any sense.”
“You went to the park today, after you closed your shop.” He stood up, gripping the edge of the couch as if he were struggling to stand. It was then that I noticed a long, bloody gash across his thigh. The wound looked clean, as though it had been done hours ago, but ugly. No wonder he was struggling to stand up.
He winced as he touched the black ring around his index finger, then turned to face me completely, steadying himself on the kitchen bench, giving me a full view of his sculpted body. Across his chest, arms, thighs and back were stunning tattoos, the most beautiful of which was a black raven in flight across his chest, the wings unfurled and the head pointing to the heavens. I gulped, then nodded, trying not to let my gaze wander from his face. “You picked up an injured raven, and brought it back here. You talked to it, gave it food, and kept it safe from that monster,” he glared at the Chairman, who was now curled up in the corner, licking his bottom. “Am I right so far?”
“So you were stalking me?”
“No. I am that injured raven.”
I snorted. What an absurd thing to say. He was clearly a grown man. A grown, naked, tattoo, hot, delusional man. He was mentally unstable. He was dangerous.
“It’s true. I know it sounds insane, but you have to believe me. It’s how I know you love peanut butter, but your last boyfriend was allergic to nuts.”
I thought about what he’d said. The broken cage, the way he seemed to know all the things I’d said to the bird, when there was no one else close by. The raven had a damaged leg, and this man had a nasty wound on the same leg. The fact that the raven wasn’t anywhere to be seen ...
“I don’t believe you,” I said, but my words came out sounding more unsure than I’d intended.
‘What other explanation is there?” Hot Biker gave me a tentative grin. “Can we just skip past the bit where I explain everything in detail for now? I need you to put down the umbrella and listen to me.”
“Yeah right. I put this down and you ravish me.”
“For the last time, I would never.” He grinned. “Unless you like being ravished. I know I’d enjoy it very much.”
My heart hammered against my chest. Goddamn, that grin was intoxicating. I leaned the umbrella up against the wall, and took a small step away from it, making sure I could still lean over and reach it if I needed. “There,” I said. “Now, could you sit down, and cover yourself with something? I need to focus.”
“Ah, so you were looking.” He looked relieved as he plopped down on the sofa, and used a cushion to cover his crotch.
I wanted to deny it, but I figured there was no use. My head felt dizzy. I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining listening to what this guy had to say. It was that smile, it made me do things I wouldn’t normally do. I bet a lot of women did things they wouldn’t normally do, for that smile. “Just explain to me what all this is about, and explain carefully, because I have had a long day and I am very tired.”
“My name is Cole Erikson, and I am a Bran.” he said. “That is a shapeshifter: a human that can turn into a raven. We’re a very old species, maybe even older than humans, although our numbers are dwindling now. For centuries we’ve lived in secret in England, bound to stay here to protect the Empire. For a Bran is not a free creature: he or she is born a servant in a powerful family. Our duty is to spy for our masters, to patrol their land, to deliver messages, to send warnings, and upon their death, to facilitate the journey of their souls into the underworld.”
I remembered a visit to the Tower of London with my mother, from when I was much younger. She and I sat in the courtyard and fed the ravens bread from our ham sandwiches. One of the guides had told me that if the tower ravens were to be lost or fly away, then the crown would fall, and Britain along with it. At the time I thought it was just a story they told tourists, but listening to Cole, I wasn’t so sure.
“Which family do you belong to?” I asked, wondering if he had royal connections. Maybe if I helped him, he could get the Queen to wipe all my debt. Now that would almost compel me to forgive him for the home invasion.
“The Morchards,” he answered. “The oldest and richest noble family in Loamshire County. They live on the Morchard Estate, about twenty miles northeast of the village.”
“I know that place,” I said. “We used to go on school trips to look at the castle. They have a whole wing set up with medieval scenes and wax figures from Madame Tussauds. And there’s a—”
“—trebuchet in the courtyard. I know.” Cole sighed. “Victor Morchard is quite fond of his family’s brutal past. He can trace his family history back to the Norman kings. They’ve held that castle in their possession since the tenth century. There’s some fine examples of gargoyles carved by French artists—”
“You didn’t strike me as an architecture buff.”
“It’s part of the business.” Cole said. “When you’re a raven, you spend a lot of time perching on things. You tend to develop a bit of snobbery about architraves and gargoyles.”
“I see. So let’s say I believe that you’re a man who can change into a bird; why do you need my help?”
Cole pointed to his leg. “I thought it was obvious. I can’t go back there. I need a place to crash, and they wouldn’t think to look for me here.”
“Wait, what?”
He held up his hand, showing me the black ring. I peered closer, and noticed the skin around the ring was red and inflamed. I reached out to touch it, but Cole snapped his hand away.
“If you touch it, Morchard may be able to track you down. Besides,” he winced again. “It’s very hot.”
“It’s burning you?” He nodded miserably. “But why? That’s barbaric.”
“The ring is a bond. It ties me to my master. I am Victor Morchard’s slave, and he uses this ring to control me. Right now I am far from where I should be, I am not performing my duties, and so the ring punishes me.”
“Can your master also track you through the ring?” I looked toward the door, wondering what would happen to me if Cole’s master suddenly barged in and found his servant naked on my sofa.
Thankfully, Cole was shaking his head. “This is ancient magic, and it’s not that sophisticated. I’ve never been allowed a mobile phone, so Morchard can’t trace me here through GPS. He’s always trusted that my fear of the pain would keep me in line, and so far it’s worked, until today.”
He didn’t have a mobile phone. So he could never have given me his number, even if he’d wanted to. For some reason, that information made my stomach flutter. “So how did you end up in the park?”
“I’d had enough. I was trying to escape from the castle, but my master’s other Bran found me, and did this.” Cole rubbed the wound on his leg, wincing as his fingers touched the sensitive skin. “If a Bran goes rogue, as I have done, we’re trained to kill it, in order to preserve the family’s secrets. Bran know a lot of secrets.”
“I can imagine. So you were hiding from them under that tree. And then I picked you up?”
Cole nodded. “And a good thing, too. The cut was pretty bad. I could barely move. The
first dog walking through the park would have finished me off. But I also knew it was dangerous being with you. That’s why I leapt out at the crossing. But I didn’t figure on you being completely crazy and chasing me through the traffic like that.”
I blushed, remembering the cars zooming around me and all the honking and name calling and rude hand gestures. I’d never done anything like that before in my life. Just the thought of running out into that traffic after the silly bird made my cheeks burn.
“And you brought me back here and cleaned me up and gave me something to eat.” Cole’s deep voice dripped with gratitude. “You were so kind. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. But I’m a danger to you. I didn’t want you to get involved. I wanted to keep you safe, so I was just going to sneak out of here while you were asleep, find some clothes, and go into hiding. But then you woke up.”
“Yes.”
He shrugged. “So I can’t hide anymore. You know what I am. That means you’re involved, whether you like it or not. And I was hoping, since there’s nothing I can do about that now, maybe I could appeal to some of that kindness you’ve already shown me, and ask you to help me.”
“What help could you possibly need from me?”
“Well, for starters, I could do with some clothes.”
“I’m afraid I might not be much help in that department,” I said, gesturing to my own tiny frame. “I’m not sure anything I own will be able to fit you.”
“You sure do know how to flatter a guy’s ego.” Cole grinned. “Anything is fine, really. Mostly, I could do with a place to crash for a couple of days, until I can figure out what to do. There’s someone in Crookshollow I need to see before I leave.”
“A girl?”
Cole tilted his head to the side and grinned at me. “No. Why, are you jealous?”
“Hardly.”
“So what about it? Will you let me stay? I promise I won’t get in your way. I just need to see this person – this male person – and then I’ll be going.”
Watcher: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 1) Page 5