A Circle Of Crows

by Brynn Chapman

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  Whiskey Creek Press

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Copyright ©2006 by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  A Circle of CROWS

  by

  Brynn Chapman

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Published by

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  Whiskey Creek Press

  PO Box 51052

  Casper, WY 82605-1052

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Copyright ©

  2006 by Ronna Hochbein

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN 1-59374-587-7

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston

  Editor: Chere Gruver

  Printed in the United States of America

  WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

  A CIRCLE OF CROWS

  In the early 1900s, children in Rhinebeck went missing and now over a hundred years later, it is happening again. The Four Seasons Inn is hiding a secret and it concerns the children that are whispering on the wind. Lives altered as one sister's daughter disappears one night and now it is a race against time as two realms fight to save them from an unspeakable evil that will decimate both lands if it is not stopped. Because this time, the crows are telling the sisters what to do but it is up to them to listen to the Circle of Crows. Will Morgana and the other children be found in time? On the other hand, will the evil that permeates the fae realm break out and take over the human world? Read A Circle of Crows and find out what happens next in this mesmerizing tale.

  A Circle of Crows is a heart-stopping tale that will keep the readers on the edge of their seats and make them wonder what will happen next ... Ms. Chapman writes with much depth and flair as the sisters of the Four Seasons Inn gather to find out what happened over 100 years ago. Each page flips from one realm to the other as the tale is told and totally engrosses this reviewer. The characters are multidimensional and deliver a broad range of emotions as each sister deals with the nightmares and whispers they hear in the rain. Each page is a new revelation to the mystery and as one question is answered, another crops up to ensnare the reader. The flow of the book was fast paced at times when it needed it to be and then it would slow down some to keep the reader from having heart palpitations at the pace. It was a wonderful journey to enjoy this new author's imagination. Highly imaginative yet quite suspenseful, A Circle of Crows delivers the reader to a place where the dark edge of emotions gathers and mysteries abound.

  From start to finish, Ms. Chapman delivers a story that will keep the reader guessing with the many twists it delivers as well as the multifaceted characters to worm their way into a reader's heart. This is truly one book that will keep you on the edge of the seat as it races toward its climatic ending. A Circle of Crows is a stunningly told story that will keep you highly entertained from start to finish. Run to grab this engrossing tale and find yourself surprisingly scared at the way the plot curves when you least expect it.

  ~~Reviewed by Dawn for Love Romances

  Dedication

  To my husband and sons, the three musketeers. And to Jo, who always gives it to me straight.

  Cast of Characters for A Circle of Crows

  Macbeth Sisters—twins Rachael and Raena, adopted younger sister Bella

  Morgana—Rachael's daughter

  Sam—Bella's husband

  Colin—leader of the Rebellion

  Marisol—Colin's love

  Christian—Colin's first officer, in the rebellion

  Nathaniel—one of Colin's men

  Queen Ivana—wicked queen

  Captain Dennehy—the queen's henchman

  Eva—a kidnapped child

  Moira O'Sullivan—the twins’ certifiably insane grandmother

  Ewan O'Sullivan—tolerant grandfather

  Anna MacBeth—the Macbeth sisters’ mother

  Maximus—a guard at the palace

  Ellena and Kate—midwives and healers, Bella's teachers

  The Sepulachar—black winged creatures of extraordinary powers

  The Antioch—benevolent creatures with powers

  Hyde—sorry, that's confidential, you'll have to read on

  Prologue

  November 1975

  She didn't want to jump. She had three beautiful little girls, and she loved her husband. So why, when she peered out of the window into this gale force wind, did she feel like she wanted to fly into the air, into the heart of the storm?

  The storm was calling to her, it seemed. She could hear something outside, underneath the thunder and lightening, another layer of sound.

  It was familiar somehow. What was it? She had to know; she was driven to find out.

  She flung open the window and crawled precariously onto the window ledge, slick with rain. What did she hear? Locusts? Cicadas?

  No. It was whispers. Children whispering.

  She couldn't make out what they were saying. She cocked her head to the side and leaned toward the sound. Her foot slid off the ledge and she caught herself, clawing at the sides of the old wooden windowpane.

  Her heart hammering wildly in her chest, she felt dizzy as she looked down into the storm. It looked as if a tempest had appeared directly below the window under her hazardous perch. A black whirlwind spun round and round, making her sick as she watched its progress.

  She felt as if she wanted to jump, and her foot left the ledge; when somewhere in the back of her mind, her father's Scottish brogue cautioned her. She replaced her foot.

  "Anna,” she heard whispered, “help us. We are lost. Please help.” She lifted her foot again.

  "I must help,” she said matter-of factly into the wind. She bent her knees and prepared to leap, when she heard the decibel of the whispers increase and become more fervent. It seemed as if an unseen hand were pulling her toward the center of the black, whirling circle. She held her breath, and...

  "Momma, what are you doing?"

  She placed her foot down and turned around on the sill, slipping as she did so. Her daughter grabbed her hand and helped her down.

  "The whispers, they were calling me,” she said stupidly, still feeling as if her mind were thick with fog.

  "You mean the children's voices? I hear them every time it rains."

  * * * *

  Ten Years Ago

  November 14, 1994 Eleven p.m.

  Rhinebeck, New York

  The hospital sliding doors opened and the gurney rushed through, precariously missing a corner in the EMTs haste to reach the M.D. on call.

  "Vitals?” demanded Chris Calhoun, the lead paramedic.

  "B.P. is sixty over thirty. We're losing him, Chris."

  The patient had been found at the scene of a motor vehicle accident. His body had been retracted from his demolished car by the ‘Jaws of Life.'

  Chris began accounting
the patient's status to the nurse who had run out of the sliding doors of the hospital to meet them, he rapid fired his report as he had been trained. “Head trauma, with possible spinal cord injury. We will need a neurology and an orthopedic resident, his tibia is a comminuted fracture as well on the right."

  Chris Calhoun hovered over his patient's head and whispered, “Come on, buddy, hang in there."

  * * * *

  Eleven p.m.

  Brewster, Massachusetts

  November 14, 1994

  Raena sat at her desk with her head in her hands, pouring over the paper due the following morning. She heard a sound outside ... one not familiar in this seaside neighborhood.

  "Are those birds at this hour of night? Those aren't gulls...” she whispered to the dark.

  She rose and walked to the window, sucking in her breath at the sight on her front lawn. A murder of crows were distributed all over the moonlit yard, squawking and pecking at one another.

  "Something is wrong...” she said as a black, ominous feeling, almost palpable descended on her heart.

  She startled with the ringing of the phone and her heart began to beat wildly. Running full tilt, she leaped over the ottoman and ripped receiver off its cradle.

  "What's wrong?” she said into the receiver.

  Sobbing on the other end—uncontrollable sobbing met her ears.

  "Bella? Bella, honey, what is it?"

  Her seventeen-year-old sister attempted to speak, but it comes out as, “RRRRRaaaeee!!"

  "Bella, get a hold of yourself! What has happened! Where is Rachael? Put her on the phone. It's not the baby, is it?"

  "N-N-Noo. She's here with me. It's John. Rachael's gone to the hospital. He was in a car accident and the person who he collided with is already dead."

  Raena grabbed tight to the chair next to her and fought the blackness which threatened to engulf her. She could then clearly see a picture of her twin in her mind's eye, sitting in the hospital alone, over her husband's bedside and weeping quietly.

  That thought pushed the darkness away quickly and her iron resolve kicked in.

  "Bella, I'm coming home. I'll get the first flight out of here."

  * * * *

  As Raena raced to her gate at the airport, visions came whizzing past her conscious mind like a slideshow ... Rachael getting married to John; her mother and Rachael arguing because Rachael was only twenty; Rachael's brilliant smile as she handed her tiny girl to Raena to hold; the look on her twin's face as she shut the door to drive to college in Massachusetts; coming home for her parents funeral a year ago and ... the inn.

  The inn had been home forever, and being innkeepers was in their blood for generations; and now, it was Rachael's job to run the inn. Or it had been her and John's responsibility.

  Rae checked her watch and muttered, “Oh please, oh please,” and ran as fast as she thought safe without getting herself tackled by security to her gate.

  * * * *

  Bella went into the kitchen and sat shivering at the table. She had to go and sit with Morgana. What if she woke up and found herself all alone? She would be terrified, and rightly so for a three year old, even one as amazingly brilliant as her niece.

  She entered Rachael's wing quietly and tiptoed to Morgana's room. The little girl was sleeping soundly in her new “big girl” bed, surrounded by her Winnie the Pooh™ characters.

  Bella was overcome with the sight, and sat quietly in the corner of the room and gathered herself into a ball and wept quietly. Her daddy—gone?

  Her own insecurities from childhood loomed in now. Being adopted, even though no one in the world could have loved her more than her parents and sisters, she still had odd feelings about it at times. Feeling of abandonment, and never really feeling safe anywhere.

  She looked again at the three year old and shuddered. Unable to resist any longer, Bella crawled over to the bed and slid in between the covers with her niece.

  She gazed at her ring before drifting off, a present from her mother; two rubies with a diamond in the middle. Her mom had gotten the twins identical rings to this one and had told them one stone for each of their lives. And to always wear them to remind them that no matter what this life had in store, they would always have each other. Wishing to have her mother's arms of comfort more than ever, she whispered to the dark, “Hurry, Rae."

  The last sound she heard was a crow calling from somewhere outside...

  * * * *

  Raena buckled into the seat as the stewardess—no, no, flight attendant—went over all the safety procedures. It took all the self-control she could muster not to scream. She nervously twisted her ring as she always did when she was stressed.

  Not another accident. Her parents had already been taken this way, so what twisted sort of justice could there be in the world if this was to be the fate of her brother-in-law as well?

  She began to try and plan, as she always did when overwhelming situations arose, what would be her course of action if he didn't make it.

  "I'll have to quit grad school and help her with the inn and Morgana,” she said aloud, and the sound of her voice made her jump.

  The passenger across the aisle eyed her suspiciously.

  Rachael's face swam into view, then Bella's, followed by Morgana's.

  "Oh please,” she murmured, and unable to help herself she began to let the tears flow.

  * * * *

  November 30th,1994

  Early morning

  Raena made her way up the street after the cab had dropped her off. She stood half a block away looking at the inn while a freezing wind madly whipped her long, auburn hair. Thoughts whizzed past in a slideshow; the funeral, her advisor's face when she turned in her withdrawal from graduate school, locking the door for the last time at her beachside rental on the cape. How she would miss the sea...

  She turned to come up the old stone path, which was their version of a sidewalk, and Morgana came bursting through the front door. “Aunt Rae, Aunt Rae, you're here!” she shrieked.

  Raena lugged her suitcase up the steps and took a deep breath.

  Out of the corner of her eye, in a tree barren of leaves, perched a single cardinal which appeared to be observing the business of this homecoming. “Cardinals are a sign of hope,” she attempted to convince herself...

  Rae smiled for the first time in weeks, and scooping up her niece said, “Hello, butterbean. When do we eat?"

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  September, 2003

  Raena walked down the quiet street and glanced back at the inn, which now had softly glowing windows from all the antique oil lamps that had been lit on behalf of the current guests for ambiance.

  Rae walked faster in an attempt to outrun the anxiety that had plagued her for the past three weeks—anxiety she had no clue why she was experiencing. Perhaps it was the time of year, almost November, the month when all of the events had occurred which brought her back to Rhinebeck. Post-traumatic stress disorder they called it, she remembered it from one of her psych class electives at the university.

  "Or,” whispered a little voice in her mind, remarkably like her grandmother Moira's, “you have the The Sight. After all, you have red hair, you are descended from the Scottish Highlands and there were plenty of seers in our heritage..."

  "Rubbish,” she said out loud, and began to jog.

  Thoughts of dear Gran were in her head now, whether she liked it or not. Half the time growing up, Rae thought, or rather knew, Gran was daft. Her grandparents were of Scottish descent and had retained all of the customs and superstitions passed down from their parents, weaving the girls’ upbringing full of faeries and folktales. To add to the excitement, her grandfather had been a farmer, and consulted the Farmer's Almanac as if it were a religious experience. Most of the time, she was able to convince herself it was just Gran's mental illness ... still, the foreboding would not abate, no matter what she did to quell her fears. She found herself thinking about having a drink, whic
h further increased her anxiety.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something fly and whipped her head accordingly in its direction. A murder of crows—or were they magpies?—had descended upon a yard and a rooftop. Rae's blood ran cold and she felt as if someone had slid an icy hand to the small of her back and out came her grandmother's voice again,

  "A crow on the thatch, then death lifts the latch!"

  And in her mind's eye, she remembered the last time she saw a murder of crows.

  "Shoo! Go away!” she yelled at the flock. A great cacophony of cawing was their reply.

  Turning, she ran directly down the street and kept up the pace for a whole block, when again, Moira O'Sullivan's long-dead voice maintained a rhythm with her footfalls,

  "One crow for sorrow,

  Two crows for joy

  Three crows for a girl.

  Four crows for a boy,

  Five crows for silver,

  Six crows for gold,

  Seven crows for a secret, never to be told."

  A rhyme they used to jump rope to as little girls, taught again by Moira, along with a heavy dose of banshees and a “Failte!” (Gaelic for Welcome).

  Rae looked up and magically, she found herself in front of the local watering hole, The Rusty Lantern and opened the door. Taking a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dim, smoky atmosphere, she walked over to a barstool and sat down.

  "Ayuh, Rae. What'll ya have?” requested Tim, whose wondering gaze examined Rae's jogging suit with interest; he hadn't made any attempts to conceal his interest in her over the years.

  "Molsen™. No glass necessary tonight, I'm not staying."

  "Okay.” And with a wry smile, he placed a longneck bottle before her, followed promptly by a tall beer glass. With no doubt, Tim recalled Rae closing the establishment just last week, till the words, “Last call for alcohol!” echoed throughout the bar.

  She didn't even acknowledge his gesture and placed her hand to her forehead and tried to clear her foggy mind.

  She remembered her trip to Europe after she received her Bachelor's degree and thought about London. What is it? Then it came to her ... there were supposed to be ravens in the Tower of London, and the legend went that if the ravens were ever to leave, the Crown would fall, along with the country.