‘Welcome to Raven’s Glen’
Chapter One
I was glad to have Frank next to me at the hospital. I would have ground my fingernails to bone if he hadn’t been here, sitting with me in this sterile white hospital waiting room. Up until now my day had been fine. I was in the garden, enjoying a beautiful spring afternoon in the sun with Frank, talking about Aaron, Magick, and the future. But now my knees were bouncing up and down, my stomach had cooled some ten degrees, and I couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence to save my life.
Me? Nervous?
Never.
But Eliza was about to have a baby. Sure, babies are born everywhere in the world every single day, but this one was Eliza’s! I wanted to be an aunt way more than I wanted to be a mom and now I was finally going to get what I wanted. Of course, every good thing comes at a price, though, and for me that price was a couple of hours in a hospital waiting room with Frank and my nerves.
“Do you know what I don’t like about doctors?” Frank asked. His voice cut through the silence like a knife.
I didn’t look at him. My gaze had been enraptured by the pentacle clasped between my fingers. I was trying to pray, pray for a safe birth, and failing. “What?” I asked.
“They’re impersonal. I mean, why would I let a doctor stick a finger up my ass without taking me out to dinner—or at least having the decency of trying to get me drunk—first?”
“You can say the same about gynecologists.”
“That’s what I’m saying. It’s like they get a free pass.”
“It’s their job. You don’t get any pleasure out of a visit to the doctor.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Oh come on, Frank. Seriously?”
Frank threw me a smirk. “Well, you’ve been a stone cold witch ever since we sat down. I’m bored, so you get inappropriate jokes.”
I sighed. “I’m just nervous.”
“I’m sure mommy and baby are both okay,” Frank said.
I raised my eyes to him. “I’m sure she is too,” I said. “Actually, would you mind getting me a bottle of water from the machine?”
Frank placed a hand on my shoulder as he stood up. “Sure, I could do with a stretch.”
I watched his lanky form—followed by an even longer, lankier shadow—sail down the shiny, white and grey corridor. I needed a moment alone with my thoughts like I needed a hole in the head, but I did want a few minutes of silence in order to throw a little magick into the air.
With the pentacle in my hand, snaking between my fingers, I uttered a prayer to the Goddess of the Moon. She is the life-giver, the creator, the protector. And at the dawn of spring, she is being born. I hadn’t made that spiritual connection until now but it fit, and I knew that no matter what, everything would be okay. Eliza and her baby would be okay, and that was the important part.
I couldn’t wait for this little bean to enter the world. She hadn’t even been born yet and I had no problem in deciding what embarrassing story about her mother I should tell her first. I had no shortage of those! But I also couldn’t wait to dress her up in little summer dresses, play with her in the back yard, and buy her first choker for her.
I would love this little baby with all my heart. I would be a good aunt. A great aunt, only without the age. The kind of aunt that can be depended on for babysitting, who never forgets gifts at birthdays and Yule, and isn’t afraid to tell her off if she’s being silly—or brattish. Nine months I had been waiting for this little baby to make an appearance and that day was now!
Yeah, I would be an awesome—
The big white door in front of me, which had remained motionless since my arrival, suddenly swung open. Behind it stood a nurse wearing a pair of gloves and an apron. I wasn’t oblivious to the few specks of blood upon it.
I shot up. “How is she?” I asked.
“She’s fine,” said the nurse.
“And the baby?”
“She’s fine too.”
Frank returned to me when he saw the nurse.
“When can I see her?” I asked.
“She’s resting right now and the doctor is still with her. They’ve had a tough time in there, but I think that—”
Evan’s head popped out from over the nurse’s shoulder like a whack-a-mole. I expected the happy face of a new father, but instead found his expression scarred and cowed; clearly he had tried to wrestle with Eliza’s wishes. “Amber,” he said, “She’s calling for you.”
The nurse tried to protest but I was past her before she could stop me. Frank followed.
Evan led us down a corridor lined with several doors and a tall window at the end, for natural light. The entire hall reeked of disinfectant and strawberry air-freshener, which mingled like oil and water. That is, not at all. Each sniff of the stuff took turns assaulting the nostrils. Gods how I wanted out!
Powering down the hall I wasn’t sure what I would feel when Evan opened the door to Eliza’s delivery room. An overwhelming joy, I was sure, but also—maybe—a little dread. I was next. I mean, I wouldn’t be the next person to have a baby, but I was next after Eliza. I realized, then, that I didn’t have any other girlfriends, and I guess that kinda sucked.
Evan stood by the brown door to a delivery room and smiled. “Ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Let’s get this done,” Frank said, “Hospitals give me the creeps.”
Evan opened the door and the rush of joy I was expecting fell over my shoulders like a fresh waterfall on a summer day. There, beyond the threshold to the delivery room, Eliza was sitting on a bed cradling her newborn creation. Her legs were in stirrups and covered by a blue mantle; on the other side of which a doctor was still working.
The doctor poked his head around the side and opened his mouth to ask a question, but stopped and hid behind the mantle again. I supposed he too had experienced Eliza’s… persuasiveness.
Then I saw it. The tiny little thing was like a doll covered in gelatin. Pale and tiny and wrinkled, red and pink and purple, a fresh creature presented to the world. I approached, and with every step I took my knees faltered a little further. The tears came a little harder. My smile widened a little more.
“Hey,” Eliza said.
“Hey,” I said.
Her voice was tired, but her cheeks had that warm red afterglow of someone who had just been through a crazy workout. The happy glow, as I call it. That’s what this was. And she was beautiful with it planted upon her face.
Then there was the baby, who I had made a conscious effort not to look at until I made sure that Eliza was okay because I knew that, when I did look, I would melt. And I did. Here was this tiny, wriggling thing. Tiny and purple and covered in bits of white and pink I knew belonged to Eliza.
“Oh my Gods,” I said, cooing over the infant. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet. “She’s so beautiful.”
“I know. Gave us a scare, though. Thought the umbilical was wrapped around her neck. But it was fine.”
“That’s amazing. Look at how amazing she is,” I said to Frank.
“Kinda looks a little pale,” Frank offered “May wanna get her some sunlight.”
Eliza laughed, but it was a guarded laugh, like she wasn’t sure if he was being serious or joking. Frank’s infectious personality had rubbed off on her and they had become good friends in the last few weeks, much to my satisfaction. But she didn’t yet know him like I did. I had been his friend long enough now to know that Frank’s heart was made of soft dough—even if everything else about him suggested the contrary. Somewhere beneath his marble skin a heart was fluttering.
Just like mine.
“She’s beautiful,” I said, and I kissed Eliza’s forehead. “You guys have done a great job. You’re gonna be awesome parents.”
Eliza took my hand and squeezed it. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
If the doctor heard, he didn’t question.
“Oh hush,” I said. “Have you decided on a na
me yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Lize, she’s already here! She needs a name.”
“I know, but I have time to pick one. When it comes, I’ll know.”
“You’d better hurry up,” Frank said, “Otherwise I’ll pick one for you.”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“I like different names,” I said, “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with names like Michael or Josh or Jake. But I would rather call my kid Rogue or Jet.”
“Jet?” Frank asked.
“Like a jet engine?”
“Yup.”
“Did someone want to be a fighter pilot when she was a little girl?” he asked in a mocking tone.
“Not really. I just like uncommon names.”
“They’re not that uncommon.”
The baby squirmed and then made a sound I had never heard a living creature make. A whine, a gargle, and a cough, all forced out of the same tiny mouth in one quick movement. Did she just sneeze or cough? I wasn’t sure. Then she did it again, and again.
“I think she’s hungry,” said the doctor.
Eliza shuffled the baby around in her arms. Evan came to help.
“This is the part where we leave, I think,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m gonna try and breast-feed her for the first time,” Eliza said. “Wish me luck?”
Again I kissed her on top of the head. “You don’t need it. You rest, okay? We’ll keep in touch while your family’s here, but I’ll let you call me okay?”
Eliza nodded and got herself ready to connect with her child for the first time. Evan barely acknowledged my goodbye, but I couldn’t blame him. He was so focused! Good for you, Evan, I thought. You better take care of them.
Frank and I left the room and my heart soared for my friend. My sister. Spring was here, and the waxing Goddess had touched her. Of that I had no doubt.
“That was something,” Frank said as we made our way out of the bright, white hospital. We had passed several nurses, patients in gowns, and visiting family members along the way.
“Yeah, at least it’s done now,” I said.
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Duh, you’re a guy.”
“No, witch, I mean even if I had your plumbing.”
“Well I think you’d make a pretty decent parent,” I said “A scary one, but also a decent one.”
“Now who’s the one being incredible?”
The automatic door opened and we stepped outside. The sun was still out, though it had begun its descent over horizon throwing up a honey glow into the darkening sky.
Frank took a deep breath and exhaled. “Anyway,” he said, “Time to go home.”
I nodded.
“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask,” said Frank.
“About what?”
“About a certain someone in your life. Or, rather, who isn’t in your life right now.”
“Aaron?”
“You guys talk, right?”
“Sometimes.”
I didn’t normally talk about Aaron, but I did talk to him. Stolen phone calls in the middle of the night, mainly. But enough for us to keep in contact, at least.
“So… when is he coming back?”
“Honestly? I have no idea.”
I hadn’t seen Aaron in person ever since that day on the edge of town when he sped off in his muscle car into the distance. He told me that he had to go and find his father. That he had to figure out what he had become and how to deal with it. I always thought werewolves had crazy tempers and came out under the light of the full moon to hunt people, but that’s not how Aaron described his… current state.
He had a temper, sure, but he had always been a little quick tempered. I guess that kinda made sense now. From Aaron’s mouth, though, he spoke about his condition as a kind of strength. Anger and passion gave him focus. He can channel those emotions into his muscles and do incredible things with his body. Of course, I hadn’t seen him do any of those incredible things yet—but I had seen him take out a whole room full of demon worshipping cultists.
It was a mistake to wonder such things in front of Frank, though.
“You’re gonna screw his brains out, aren’t you?” Frank asked.
“Excuse you?” I said, turning to him, hand on hip.
“You heard me, witch.”
“I’ll have you know, while Aaron and I have been in contact during his absence we haven’t yet talked about… us…”
“So?”
“So. It means I don’t know what this is yet.”
Frank narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”
“Oh? And how can you tell?”
“You’re not the only one who can read auras, honey.”
My cheeks flushed bright red. Aaron and I hadn’t spoken nearly as much as I would have liked us to—we were both busy a lot of the time—but that kiss we shared on the highway? Oh Gods. Fantasizing about Aaron’s return had become a nightly thing. Christian Grey can eat his baby-faced heart out. No amount of sex toys can measure up to the primal appeal of a man rocking rugged stubble and powerful shoulders you could sink your teeth into.
“Yeah, well, why don’t you go read someone else’s aura?” I asked.
“Maybe I will, but first you’re going to do something for me.”
“And what’s that?”
He grinned. “When you see him, give him an extra kiss for me and tell him I say hi.”
“Fuck you!” I said and I shoved him toward the pavement in protest, but I couldn’t hide the redness on my face or the sparkle in my eyes. What Frank didn’t quite catch was that the sparkle served to hide a quiet hole in my chest. Every day it grew wider as niggling insecurities gnawed at its edges like rats, and I had no way to stop them from feasting. Only Aaron coming back to me could save me from eventually imploding.
And he wasn’t here.
Chapter Two
My walk home was a little odd. The fading blue of the sky was somehow richer and more vibrant than it should have been, despite the late hour. Eliza had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl. It seemed like no time at all had passed since she gave me the news that she was pregnant and, now that it was over, I felt like I was waking up from a dream.
And what a perfect vista to wake up to. Never before had I seen a sunset quite as stunning. So, fearing that I never would again, I snapped a photo of the landscape as the western horizon stole the star’s circular shape millimeter by millimeter, and then took a deep breath of fresh, crisp air. Only the air carried an aftertaste I didn’t enjoy. Bitter. Like a shallow sip of beer where all you get is froth.
I put my phone back in my pocket and circled around myself. I was in the suburbs about ten minutes from my home. Apricot Drive, this was. Mostly families with at least one or two kids lived here, white picket fence kind of folks that work in air conditioned offices and host dinner parties every weekend for their friends. The kind of people who buy a Mercedes Benz or a Lexus as well as an SUV simply because they don’t want their kids staining the expensive upholstery, and never you mind that stupid carbon footprint nonsense.
Apricot Drive was a privileged neighborhood for the upper middle class. Well policed and maintained. All pretty gardens and trimmed hedges. Blue and brown and red doors, swing-sets on the front lawn, children running around with reckless abandon. But today, Apricot Drive was littered not with kids, but with dead birds.
All around me I saw them scattered along the road, pavement, and gardens like candy fallen out of a broken piñata. The melodic rock music blaring in my ears would have made sure I hadn’t heard them hit the ground, but I also hadn’t seen them come down. Had they always been there? It didn’t matter, because now I could smell them. The poor things were twisted and dead and reeked of death, but it wasn’t their fault.
I pulled the earbuds out of my ears and approached one of the birds, a blackbird. With a single finger to its chest I checked in vain for signs of life, but found none. Oddly, I couldn’
t find any marks on the bird either. No signs of injury or electrocution. I glanced up at the sky in search of clouds or anything to suggest a drastic change in the atmosphere that could have caused this, but was met by an azure mantle of sky littered with twinkling stars.
Poison, then?
The thought didn’t sit well with me, but it was the only explanation I had. Someone killed all these birds. They didn’t just up and die of their own accord. And that meant that someone would be round to pick them up soon. Animal control, most likely. So I stood up, wiped my hand on my thigh and continued on my way home with a silent prayer for the little creatures echoing in the back of my mind.
But first there was the matter of the front door to my house. In recent months, my house had become a hub for people and things that didn’t belong in my life; namely the entities and parties that showed up unbidden after having found me using mystical means—or, you know, a phone book. Every day I would come home to one nasty memory or another, and every day just as I passed Mrs. Lancaster’s freshly trimmed hedges—which were usually cut in geometric shapes, like triangles and squares—and onto the stone path leading up to the front porch of my house, I found myself slowing down and wondering.
What may be waiting for me behind my front door?
The thought had crossed my mind to move, or at the very least re-paint the front door. But this house was mine, thank you very much. And I didn’t want to go through the effort of painting or re-arranging anything. I had enough hard work keeping the bookstore the way I liked it, and I wasn’t about to spend the rest of my free time changing things around at home.
So the door remained its dull brown with the golden ram—the only thing I did change myself—for a knocker, and I approached. Slow and steady, my pulse began to quicken. I reached into my bag for my keys and fumbled around until my fingers clasped the metal bunch. Then I stepped to within arm’s length of the door, slotted the key into the keyhole, and turned.
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