Ravensong

by TJ Klune

  “Hey,” I said, averting my gaze. “Mark. What a surprise.”

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Yeah,” Rico said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh or scream. I didn’t know which. “We brought him out tonight. You know. Human night and whatnot.”

  I stomped on his foot underneath the table.

  “I meant boys’ night,” he yelped. “Mierda.”

  “Dale,” Tanner said. “Nice to see you again.”

  I turned slowly to look at him.

  He blanched. “Uh. I mean… ignore me. I’ve had too much to drink.”

  “Hi, Tanner,” Dale said, his voice low and gravelly. It was deeper than I thought it would be. I didn’t like it. “Chris. Good to see you too.”

  Chris just nodded and drank the rest of his beer in one long, slow gulp.

  “Hi,” Dale said, and I realized he was talking to me. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  The guys at the table held their breath.

  Fucking idiots.

  I grinned up at Dale, turning on the charm. He looked a little dazzled. Mark didn’t. He looked like he was regretting his very existence. I didn’t blame him. There was blood in the water, and I felt like circling. “Yeah. How about that. Seems you’ve met everyone else here.” Chris slumped. Tanner was stock-still, as if I wouldn’t see him sitting right in front of me. “I’m Gordo. Great to meet you.” I held out my hand, and he shook it politely.

  “Gordo,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Have you?” I said, forcing myself to sound amused. “Well, how about that. You talk about me, Mark?”

  “Of course I do,” Mark said quietly, those ice eyes on me. “You’re important.”

  I struggled to keep the smile on my face. It was a battle I almost lost. “Right,” I said. “Important. Because we go way back.”

  “A long time.”

  Dale looked confused, but he said, “Old friends, huh?”

  I turned my grin back to him. “Since we were kids. We grew up together. Then he left and I stayed here. We grew apart. You know how it is.”

  “Oh?” Dale said, looking at Mark. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I had to leave,” Mark said, hands in fists at his sides. “Family thing.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Family. Because nothing is more important than family.”

  “Right,” Dale said slowly, glancing between the two of us. “It can be the most important thing.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Sometimes a family of choice is better than that of blood. But that’s not for everyone.” I nodded at the guys at the table. “Ain’t related to any of these assholes, but they’re still mine. For the moment.”

  “We’re so dead,” Rico whispered to Tanner and Chris.

  “And sometimes people are put into positions where they have no choice at all,” Mark said evenly.

  “Oh my god,” Tanner breathed. “Do they have to do this now?”

  Dale laughed uncomfortably. “I think maybe I’m missing something here.”

  I waved him away. “Nah. You aren’t missing a thing. Because I’m not missing a thing. Right, Mark?”

  “Right,” Mark said, eyes narrowing.

  Rico cleared his throat. “As fun as this is—and believe me, I’ve never been more entertained in my life—we don’t want to keep you from your… night out.”

  “You could join us,” Chris offered. Then the blood left his face as he glanced at me. “Uh, no. Don’t do that. Go away.” He winced. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Just don’t… be here.”

  Tanner put his face in his hands.

  “It’s okay,” Dale said. He seemed like such a nice guy. I fucking hated nice guys. “We won’t intrude. It’s been a while since I’ve had this one all to myself. Gonna take advantage of that.”

  “Christ,” Rico muttered. “Of all the things to say.”

  “Sounds fun,” I said cheerfully. “Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

  “You too,” Dale said before pulling Mark toward the bar.

  I watched them disappear into the crowd before I slowly turned back toward the table.

  Rico, Tanner, and Chris sank even lower in their seats.

  I took a long drink of my beer.

  “He’s nice,” Chris tried.

  “Works in a coffee shop,” Tanner added. “Over in Abby.”

  “We only met him once,” Rico said. “And while we told him to his face that we thought he was a great guy, obviously we were lying, because why would we even think something like that when you’re our friend?”

  “When you least expect it,” I said. “When it’s slipped your mind. When you’ve forgotten this moment, that’s when I’ll come for you.”

  I shouldn’t have felt as good as I did at the look of fear in their eyes.

  I WAS drunk.

  Not smashed, but beyond tipsy.

  I felt good.

  The beer was heavy in my stomach.

  “Gotta take a leak,” I told them over the din of the crowded bar.

  They nodded, not looking up from their electronic trivia tablets. The notepad had been put away, and there’d been no further talk of pros and cons.

  I pushed myself up from the table. My head was swimming pleasantly. I made my way through the crowd, feeling hands slap my back, hearing my name said in greeting. I smiled. Nodded. But I didn’t stop.

  There was a line for the women’s restroom.

  Small-town women, all.

  The urinal was in use in the men’s room, a hand propped against the wall as the guy pissed. The stall door was shut, and from inside came the sound of retching.

  The bathroom felt too warm. It smelled of piss and shit and vomit.

  I went back out into the bar.

  It was warmer now.

  Things were starting to spin a little.

  I needed air.

  The front of the bar was too crowded.

  I went to the side of the bar.

  Bambi winked at me as she poured drinks.

  I tilted my head toward the back door behind the bar.

  “Go for it,” she shouted over the noise. “Still looking for you, if you know what I mean?”

  I did. I didn’t care.

  The night air was a shock against my heated skin.

  The door shut behind me, the sounds of the bar muffled.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  The alleyway was empty. It had rained while we were inside. Water dripped down from gutters stuffed with dead leaves. A car drove by out on the road, the tires rolling against wet pavement.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. I was going to feel like shit tomorrow. I was getting too old to spend a night out drinking without paying for it. Once upon a time, I could have pounded back beers until one in the morning and then been up and ready to get into the shop at six. Those days were long past.

  I walked down the alley, away from the street. A dumpster sat to the right against the wall of the bar. The hardware store was to the left. I trailed my fingers against the brick, damp and rough.

  I stood on the other side of the dumpster and pissed against the wall.

  I groaned at the release. It went on for ages.

  I shook myself before tucking my dick back into my jeans.

  The thought of going back inside was terrible.

  I fished my smokes out of my pocket and slid a cigarette out of the crumpled pack. I stuck it between my teeth. I couldn’t find my lighter. I must have forgotten it at home. I looked around, making sure I was alone before I snapped my fingers once. A little spark and then a small bloom of fire at my fingertips. My arms were covered, but I felt the warm pulse as a small tattoo near my left elbow flickered to life.

  I brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette and inhaled. It burned my lungs. The nicotine washed through me, and I sighed out a stream of smok
e.

  Water dripped onto my forehead.

  I closed my eyes.

  A voice off to my right. “Those things will kill you.”

  Of course. “So it’s been said.”

  Footsteps came closer. “I remember your first one. You thought you were cool. And then you started coughing so hard, I thought you were going to throw up.”

  “Gotta get used to it. First one always hurts.” Oh, the games we played.

  “Does it?”

  I inhaled.

  “I’ve tasted it, you know. On your tongue.”

  I grinned lazily. “Yeah. I know. You always complained, though I think you liked it.”

  “It was like burning leaves. Smoke in the rain.”

  “How poetic of you.”

  He snorted. “Yeah. Poetic.”

  I opened my eyes, looking down at the way the smoke twisted around my fingers. “What do you want, Mark?”

  He was covered in shadow, standing more toward the mouth of the alley. People stumbled by behind him on the street, but they took no notice of us. For them, we didn’t exist.

  I should have known he’d follow me out here.

  Or maybe I had known.

  “Who says I want anything?” he asked.

  “You’re here.”

  “So are you.”

  “Who says I want anything?”

  Twin flickers of orange like the end of my cigarette burned in the dark. “I never said you did.”

  People thought I was tough. A redneck. The rough guy from the garage. They weren’t wrong. But they didn’t know everything about me. I spat on the ground. “Dale seems nice. Safe and soft. Tell me, Mark. Do you think he’s wondering where you are right now? Did you tell him you’d be right back after you saw me leave?”

  “He’s with a friend of his.”

  I inhaled. I exhaled. The smoke was blue and gray. “Already meeting the friends. Though I suppose it’s fair, since he’s apparently met mine.”

  “You’re angry with me.”

  My smile was full of teeth. “I’m not anything with you.”

  “You’re pack.”

  And I felt the push of it, from him, from the wolf in the alley. It was hot and vibrant, a whisper of WitchPack in the back of my mind. “Funny how that worked out, isn’t it? Our first one destroyed, our second one leaving me behind. And here we are again. Our third. I wonder if other wolves get as many chances. If other witches have had as many Alphas as I have.”

  “The first hurt,” he said, taking a step farther into the alley. “The second almost killed me.”

  “Didn’t stop you. Thomas whistled and you went running like a good dog.”

  A low growl rolled across the brick. “He was my brother.”

  “Oh, I know. Get the fuck outta here, Mark.”

  And for a moment, he hesitated.

  I thought he’d turn around. Leave whatever this was that made my head hurt. The beer felt greasy in my stomach, and I wished I’d never come outside.

  But he didn’t.

  One moment he was still ten feet away, and the next he was in front of me, the long, hard line of his body pressed against mine. My back was to the brick, his hand in a loose grip around my throat, thumb and forefinger digging into the hinges of my jaw.

  I breathed and breathed and breathed.

  “You fight this,” he growled near my ear. “You always fight this.”

  “You’re fucking right I do,” I said, hating how hoarse my voice sounded. A jolt of electricity was running just underneath my skin, and he knew it. He had to. My neck and underarms were slick with sweat, giving off chemical signals that I wanted to keep secret.

  He dug his fingers in tighter, twisting my head to the side. His nose came to my neck, and he inhaled sharply. He dragged his nose up my throat to my cheek. His lips scraped against the underside of my jaw, but that was it.

  “There’s anger,” he said quietly. “It’s smoke and ash. But underneath, there is still dirt and leaves and rain. Like there always was. Like the first time. I remember it. I never smelled anything like it before. I wanted to consume it. I wanted it rubbed into my skin so it would never leave me. I wanted to sink my teeth into it until your blood filled my mouth. Because the first one always hurts.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. I reached up and grabbed the back of his head, holding him to me. “Then get a good sniff. Suck it in, wolf.”

  I felt the pinprick of claws dimpling my skin as he pressed his hips against mine. He inhaled deeply, and I fought to keep my eyes from rolling back. Instead I dragged my hand from the back of his head down to his neck and over his shoulders until I could press it flat against his chest between us.

  There was a beat of nothing, the tick tick tick of water dripping, and then the air rippled around us, the raven’s wings fluttering. A wall of air slammed into him, knocking him back against the opposite wall. His eyes lit up, fangs lengthening as he growled at me.

  “I hope it was worth it,” I said, voice cold. “Because if you try and touch me again, I’ll fry your ass. You get me?”

  He nodded slowly.

  I took a last drag of my cigarette before I dropped it and crushed it beneath my boot. The smoke leaked out of my nose. Music throbbed from inside the bar.

  And then I walked away, heading toward the street.

  But before I could turn the corner, I heard him speak.

  Fucker always got the last word.

  “This isn’t over.”

  too late/wild animal

  PHILIP PAPPAS came the next day.

  I didn’t trust the people from back East. I never had. They always came with an air of superiority, thinking they knew more than they actually did. They were always watching, taking in everything they could, systematically cataloguing all the tiny details to report back to the powers that be who were too chickenshit to actually come themselves.

  Osmond had been the first. He betrayed us to Richard Collins. He had paid for his crimes with his life.

  Robbie Fontaine had been the second, though Ox had told me he’d never been anything like Osmond. He was bright-eyed and eager, a pawn in a game he didn’t know he was part of. I would have loved to have seen the look on Michelle Hughes’s face when she realized that Robbie had defected to Ox’s pack. Oh, I was sure she played the part of the understanding Alpha. Everyone knew a wolf—a Beta—had a choice when it came to a pack. Any Alpha who forced a pack member to stay was considered dangerous and dealt with swiftly. Granted, I’d rarely heard of that happening, but the power of the Alpha could be intoxicating. The bigger and stronger the pack, the more powerful the Alpha became. Having Betas leave broke bonds and lessened the strength of a pack.

  From what I understood, Robbie hadn’t necessarily belonged to Michelle. He’d been more of a drifter, forming just enough of a bond to keep from becoming an Omega. It still must have pissed her off to find that the man she’d ostensibly sent to spy on what remained of the Bennett pack had ended up joining it. I hoped it burned.

  Philip Pappas was another story. Ox called him the gruff man. He was a no-nonsense Beta I’d met only once before the Omegas had started coming to Green Creek. He’d come as one of Osmond’s Betas on a visit to Thomas after Abel had died.

  He wore wrinkled suits and skinny ties and looked perpetually exhausted. His hair was thin, and he had black-gray stubble that looked as if it itched. His hands were big and his eyes constantly narrowed. He didn’t take shit from anyone, which is why I thought he was perfect as Michelle’s second.

  I didn’t trust him.

  I didn’t trust anyone outside of the Bennett pack.

  “Where is she?” he asked as he sat in the office across from Ox and Joe. Mark was in one corner, Carter in another. I stood near the window, flicking the lid of my silver lighter over and over, watching the ears of the wolves twitch each time the metal snapped together. Two of Pappas’s wolves remained outside, not invited inside the Bennett house.

  “With my mother,” Joe said, lean
ing forward, elbows on the desk.

  Pappas nodded. “Like the others?”

  “Yes,” Ox said, arms across his chest. “Exactly like the others. It’s strange.”

  Pappas arched an eyebrow. “They’re Omegas. Everything about them is strange. It’s… unnatural. A wolf isn’t meant to be an Omega. We’re not supposed to be feral.”

  “Then why are there so many of them?” Ox asked.

  Pappas kept a blank face. He was good. “I didn’t know a handful was considered many.”

  I snorted.

  He glanced at me. “Something to say, Livingstone?”

  “Richard Collins certainly seemed to have more than a handful.”

  “An aberration.”

  “Was it?” I asked. “Because it seemed a little more than an aberration.”

  He didn’t like me. That much was obvious. I didn’t give a fuck. “What are you trying to say?”

  Joe cleared his throat, shooting me a glare before looking back at Pappas. “I think what Gordo means is that there seems to be more Omegas than any of us think.”

  Pappas nodded slowly. “Do you know how many wolf packs there are in North America?”

  Joe looked at Ox, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the wolf in front of him. “Thirty-six in twenty-nine states. Twenty-one in three spread out over Canada.”

  “And on average, how many members are in each pack?”

  “Six.”

  Pappas looked impressed, though he tried to hide it. “Twenty years ago, there were ninety packs. Thirty years ago, close to two hundred.”

  Ox barely blinked. “What changed?”

  Mark cleared his throat. I glanced at him. He was looking down at the floor. “Hunters.”

  Pappas tapped his fingers in a staccato beat on the desktop. “Clans and clans of hunters whose duty it was, or so they claimed, to take out as many wolves as possible. Humans who came with their guns and their knives in the name of killing the monsters. They cut the wolves down indiscriminately. Men. Women. Children. Those that escaped kept on running. Sometimes they joined together in groups, forming makeshift packs.”