A Conspiracy of Ravens: A Raven Saga Book 1

by Crymsyn R. Hart

  "Even still, Maili. Those things can cause cancer. You shouldn't—"

  A large shadow passed over the near full moon. Linnea heard the flutter of wings next to her ear. An ominous caw echoed in the alleyway. She jumped. The largest raven she had ever seen had settled on the dumpster. Chills tapdanced on her spine as the night suddenly got colder. It almost reminded her of Halloween when the atmosphere was ripe with spirits, but she had never seen one. No matter, she never knew what was hiding in the darkness. Staring at the bird, she saw the blue-black sheen of its feathers. She had never been close enough to a bird of that size to see how beautiful it was. Its slender onyx beak looked deadly should it decide to use her fingers as dinner. Nearly the size of a toddler, it must have had a wing span of at least five feet. She wondered if it was an eagle in disguise. The bird fixed her with his dark eyes like it was reading her soul. The flautist got an eerie sense, as if someone were stepping on her grave. Something about the bird was off and yet it seemed vaguely familiar. It was a crazy notion. She had never seen anything like the raven before. She never associated with any kind of wildlife before and had never seen anything so big in the city. Maybe it had lost its way. Yet, there was a spark inside of her that recognized the animal.

  "Really, Lin. You have nothing to worry about. Come on before Joshua gets pissed at you. The curtain is going to go up in ten minutes, and you haven't even warmed up yet. You're going to sound like a sick duck if you don't get your ass in there."

  Linnea noticed Maili had not taken her eyes from the exotic bird either. After a moment, she took another drag of her cigarette and flicked it at the bird. The raven squawked, lifting its wings and snapping its beak at Maili, but it did not lose its balance. It was daring her friend to provoke it more. She chuckled at the display as she got the sense her best friend did not like the bird. Dissatisfaction and something else gleamed in Maili's eyes. Mischief maybe. She couldn't tell because it was an alien look she had never seen before on her best friend's face. Linnea hobbled up the steps and grasped the steel handle of the door. As she did, she poked her friend.

  "You're getting on my case to get inside. Come on, Maili. We both have to go on. Or has that bird got your tongue so you can't sing about munchkins and evil green witches?"

  "Linnea, if you weren't the closet thing I had to a sister, I swear I'd—"

  "You'd what? Set me up with the handsomest guy you know? Excluding Scarecrow. I mean Jason. Turn me into a raven like your feathered friend over there?” When Maili didn't ome back with a witty retort, Linnea wondered why the comment had caught Maili off guard. Linnea stopped as they walked backstage together. Something about the encounter outside and her friend seemed off. She was distracted more than usual and wasn't wearing her favorite piece of jewelry. “Come on, Ali. What gives? You seem keyed up tonight more than usual. Are you preoccupied about losing your necklace?"

  Mail's fingers went to her throat as they grasped for a phantom charm. She smiled timidly to her friend. “What? No. I have a lot of things on my mind. Linn—” She stopped the flautist in an alcove and pushed her out of the way of some of the cast members and crew who were setting up for the opening scene of the house dropping on the witch.

  Clutching her instrument case in her hand, Linnea stared at her best friend. Her eyes were troubled and not sparkling as they normally were. “What's wrong?"

  She had not seen her friend this distressed in a long time. Not since they had first met and Maili had discovered one of her other friends had died. Something was wrong. Maybe it was the arranged marriage finally coming to haunt her. Maybe she was being pulled away from her career as a singer and actress, both of which she loved. Maybe her mother was dead.

  "Lin, if I told you something you thought was totally crazy, would you accept it?"

  "Of course.” Nothing is as crazy as living with my grandmother and her Old Cronies when they start making silverware dance or animals talk all because they wanted to keep me amused as a child. She had never told her best friend about her grandmother or the coven. Who would believe her? Linnea had seen some pretty strange things over the years. She had no power of her own, but worshipped the goddess as her grandmother had before her. At times, when she felt the need for balance, she called the gods down into her circles as well. Maili only thought she was Wiccan, but truthfully, she was not. She was a true witch, descended from a line of powerful witches dating back before the Inquisition and the Burning Times. Her grandmother had told her their ancestry had mingled with the divine blood of Avalon. Naturally, Linnea had never believed such a place existed, but it was always nice to imagine when she was a child. She would pretend she was Morrigain Le Fey ruling over all of Camelot. She was never partial to Arthur and always set up the castle with Lancelot. Arthur and his bride were servants, scrubbing the ashes from the fireplaces.

  "You can tell me anything, Ali."

  "I think someone's after me?"

  "Like a stalker?"

  Her friend nodded.

  "Why don't you go to the police?"

  "They can't help. The thing after me is not—well—not exactly human."

  Maili stared into the lights beyond the curtains. The orchestra was warming up. If Linnea didn't get there soon, she was going to be out of a job. Joshua had already warned her once before and she didn't want to get on his bad side. Without thinking, she began to play with the locks on her flute case, snapping them open and shut. Not human? What is she not telling me? Does Maili know something about the other world, about my lineage, or something else and is not letting on?

  "I believe you, and I'm not just saying that. I've had my experience with weird stuff."

  Her best friend chewed her bottom lip. “Meet me after the show at my place. Around one. There's a lot I have to tell you. I should have told you in the beginning, but—"

  "Hey, Maili. Linnea! There you two are. I should have guessed. The partners in crime together as usual.” Joshua, the conductor, grabbed Linnea by the arm and tugged her after him. He pointed his finger at Maili. “I don't care what your excuse is, young lady. If you make her late again, I'll have your job. I don't care how much Derrik adores your beautiful voice. Got it?"

  Maili stared between the two of them. She pushed Joshua's finger out of the way, and Linnea swallowed. Her friend was not the best to be around when she got angry. “Why don't you listen to me, Joshy? You don't tell me or Lin what to do. Derrik would have your head and your job before he fired Lin or me. Now, why don't you go back down to your pit? Or hole. Whatever you call it, and get yourself ready so I can sing. The people are here for me. Not for your sorry ass."

  Linnea covered her mouth to stop from laughing, which was extremely hard. She watched as Joshua opened and closed his mouth several times like a dying fish. He grew redder and redder, not daring to answer her back because he knew Maili was right. Finally, he turned on his heel dragging Linnea after him.

  "I'll be there,” the flautist yelled down the hall. Maili nodded. It still didn't give her any comfort.

  Chapter Three

  Tremain now perched on the No Parking sign opposite the front entrance to the theater. Maili would exit here with the rest of the cast while the moon yawned overhead as she had done every night. His ensconce gave him a good view of the lobby all the way into the theater. Inside, the three sets of double glass doors was a red carpet paving the marble floor. Gilded frames held posters of upcoming plays. After ascending the marble steps and pressing past through ornately carved doors, a lobby splayed out before visitors. It was layered with more white marble swirled through with gold as if a child had a crayon and ran amok on the theater. He had watched people dressed in jeans and others in their finest with thousands in stones around their necks walk into the place, hanging onto the rest of high society as if money were nothing.

  None of them know how lucky they are, he thought. Just once he wished he could be freed of his feathered curse and could stroll along the streets without the thought of the moon being his keeper. Just
once he wanted to have the warmth of a woman on his arm and see love reflected in her eyes. His heart panged as he thought about Beatrice. Her accursed mother, the priestess, had bound him into his feathered form. She had given him an eternity of servitude to the goddess Morrigain and Betha, Banshee Queen. Tremain shook himself out of his pity and hardened his heart. Love was for the weak and the foolish. He should never have let himself fall in love with the pitiful girl in the first place. Then he would never have been in the position he was in now. He would have died, been reincarnated, and left to live out the rest of his destiny. Seeing the lovey dovey mortals sickened him. Maybe once upon a time he had loved Beatrice. He did not deny that. Now he understood love was not worth the hassle. It was like what he said to Maili. Use them up and spit them out. He didn't even have the luxury of doing that. If he thought about having sex while in his human form, he would go to a prostitute or pick up some cute chick, his skin would darken and feel as if he were shrinking as he would beging to turninto his raven form. He had become a monk like the rest of his brothers. He understood why Jet had taken up fighting on the days he was free, attending any martial arts class he could, or why Caleb, his fearless leader, would go deep into meditation.

  Caleb had been their leader for as long as anyone remembered. He was ancient. Most of his feathers were silver. He was from Atlantis and was the first of them to be cursed with eternal servitude. He embraced his nightmare and molded it to his very being. Tremain admired Caleb for accepting his fate. In human form, his hair was shot through with silver and his eyes had a metallic sheen to them. There was only one cure for the likes of them. If not, they were doomed to fly the skies forever righting wrongs to make up for the one sin they committed or others think they committed. His sin had been he pulled the woman he loved from the depths of her watery grave.

  What was the cure? He remembered asking Caleb. His leader turned to him, silver glinting in his eyes.

  "Something so precious and wonderful you would wish for it again once you had it in your grasp."

  "Well, what is it?"

  Caleb sighed. Tremain had been winging with them for a decade. He was still mourning for his lost love. Revenge tinged his thoughts against Beatrice's mother, Genève and the Druids who had shunned him. He wished for blight and drought to plague the village. In order for his soul to be redeemed, he should not hold grudges against those who had brought him into the ranks of the Ravens.

  "If you do not know what the cure is, then you do not need to know."

  "Caleb, please. I need to know if there's a way out this hell. I can't be like this forever. I need to be a man again. I need—"

  "You need to listen when you're given an order instead of dragging your feet. That is what you need to do. All of us are cursed. All of us have embraced our fate and do not need to be reminded of what we have lost and cannot have.” Caleb's voice elevated. Tremain instantly felt bad for what he had said. Their leader hardly got cross with any of them. He had always been forthright and fair if there were punishments to be doled out. And Tremain had been on the receiving end of a lot of those over the past decade as he chafed under the yoke of his new lifestyle.

  He wanted to do whatever he wished and not be bound by supernatural laws. Caleb was reasonable, but lately, Tremain seemed to be wearing on their leader's nerves. Still he wanted to know. No, needed to know what the cure was. He was tired of feathers and long days where he dreamed of walking under the moon, feeling its power on human flesh night after night and not just during the nights and days of the full moon. Tremain desired so much more. If there were a way for him to be human. If he had to do a hundred deeds, he would do a thousand more to be a man once again. He would make amends to the Goddess he thought he had offended since he had not been able to lift his prayers to her since he had taken on his feathered form. Since he could not have Beatrice, he at least hoped he could find his way back into the grace of the Almighty. Not so. Even that was denied him, and in that so were his hopes and dreams.

  "I'm sorry, Caleb. That's not my intent. I want to know if there's a possibility I could be mortal again.” His voice had become a harsh whisper as he had attracted the others’ attention and he had wanted this to be a private conversation.

  His leader clapped him on the shoulder. His silver eyes got a faraway look to them as he stared into the distance watching the moon set over the water. Two more days and they would take to the skies again. “I know. I'm sorry, Tremain. I've been on edge today. We will all have new assignments once our furlough is over. You asked me about a cure. The only cure we have is to fall in love with our heartmates. They have to accept us for who we are without them finding out what we are. If they can do that, our feathers will fall away and we will regain our human forms. But—"

  Ice entered his heart. Tremain could not believe what he was hearing! He had to fall in love for his curse to be broken. Wasn't that how he had been damned in the first place? He had loved and lost. Then been wrongly accused of murdering the woman he cherished. “It's not possible. Love is nothing but a lie! If we do find our heartmate, what kind of reward is watching the woman you love age and die? What happens then? Do we go back to our accursed form? Tell me, Caleb? Have you found the one yet to free you from your feathers? Have you?"

  "Enough!” Caleb stood up. His face was red and his fists clenched.

  The other Ravens had watched the confrontation between their leader and Tremain. They all knew never to get on their leader's bad side. Tremain had just crossed the line.

  "Not all of us are here because we murdered our wives. Not all of us hold the same views as you, Tremain. You'll do well to remember your place among us. There's a worse hell than this which awaits you if you piss me off, not to mention Betha and Morrigain. Don't you think I know your suffering? Don't you think I share the longing to hold a woman in my arms? To make love to her? What choices do you think I've made over the years? The sacrifices? You know nothing about me! We accept our fates and learn to live with them and make up for the travesties our lives were and the deeds which brought us here. Don't assume you know everything. There have been others among us who have found their heartmates and left. They are our Council. If you go before them, then you'll know an even greater hell. You'll be reduced to nothing. You will be a Raven for eternity with only the memories of humanity. You won't be able to take on human form. You'll be trapped until the end of your days, withering away in a feathered body. Take what you have and be thankful we can be men for the few days we have. Now get out of my sight before I decide your fate without bringing you before the Council. Know it's within my right to do so. Be thankful for what you have. Remember that!"

  His fearless leader's words echoed in Tremain's mind as he snuggled into his feathers. The night had an eerie chill on the wind. Inside, he detected the shrill notes of the flute section. Above that, he heard Maili singing. The windows next to him shook at the pitch of her voice. Some would have said it was the subway beneath the streets, but he knew better. No one heard it outside the theater, but he did because of his link to her, which enhanced his senses. Tremain lifted his wings and shook himself, trying to look like a bird if anyone noticed him on his roost. He blocked out the honking horns, the din of the pedestrian traffic, and the homeless guy drumming on plastic buckets down the street. He focused wholly on the show inside, discerning Maili's voice among the other cast members. She was all right. His charge was a resourceful, mortal woman he would not have minded romping a few rounds with because she was so beautiful. He had been watching her for three months and knew her and her best friend, Linnea, as well.

  Tremain cringed at the thought of the other woman. She paled in comparison to Maili in beauty. She was curvy, had pale skin dappled with freckles and brown hair streaked through with red like strawberries. Her eyes were hazel with flecks of green in them. She was an average height for a woman who would have come up to his chin in his human form. Mentally, he licked his lips. A good frolic in the sheets would do him good. Thanks to his f
eathered appearance that was impossible. Tremain thought it was funny Maili kept her friend in the dark about who and what she really was. If they had been true sisters, as they called themselves, the singer would have told Linnea all about her colorful heritage. Then again, maybe it would frighten her pet human away. Maili liked the flautist as a plaything. She certainly had many of those. There was much more the princess could do with that sexy cupid mouth of hers. Jason had found some wonderful uses for it. Knowing Betha, Queen of the Banshee and bitch from hell, made Tremain all the more cynical when it came to his assignment.

  The other Ravens had snickered when they heard his punishment. None envied him. All his brethren knew he had fucked up. It was rare one of them lost their charges. Hardly any liked him. Caleb tolerated Tremain because he had to. The others would be happy to see him go. Screw them all, he thought. I don't need them. One day I will be human again, and it won't be because of a woman.