Last of the Ravens
Page 12
This close, the power of the ravens was impossible to deny. The beaks were sharp and deadly-looking, the eyes were somehow intelligent, and the wings were such a deep black they shimmered with iridescent streaks of blue and green. These were magnificent, powerful birds.
“Have you come to say goodbye?” she asked, preferring the company of the dangerous ravens to complete silence and loneliness. Maybe their presence, their antics, their beauty would take her mind off Bren for a while. She had no idea how long it would take Roger to get here, and since Bren had driven away from her the minutes had dragged by with agonizing slowness.
One of the ravens cawed a response that sounded like a mournful wail.
“I know how you feel.” Miranda’s gaze flicked up toward Bren’s house at the top of the mountain. She couldn’t afford to allow her thoughts to linger on the man there, because no matter how scared and confused she was, she still wanted him desperately.
Letting Bren go was right for many different reasons. Aside from the threat to his life, which would’ve been more than enough reason to walk away, he insisted what they had wasn’t love. Whatever he felt for her was entirely physical, and the physical didn’t last. Still, she didn’t like how running away felt in her gut. She’d learned to trust her gut years ago, but at this moment she trusted nothing and no one. Not even herself.
On top of that confusion, she had so many questions for Roger she didn’t know where to start. Wait, yes, she did know exactly where to start. Keeper? Explain that one, if you please. When that was done, she wanted him to explain to her why his friend would threaten to kill Bren, why he called an ordinary man a “monster,” and she definitely wanted to know who these mysterious “others” were.
Miranda leaned on the railing and looked down. From here in the center of the deck it was a long drop to the rough landscape. The back of the cabin jutted out of the mountainside like an ugly red pimple. No wonder Bren wanted it gone.
One of the ravens came closer, walking steadily across the railing. Miranda didn’t even think of shying away. She didn’t for one second consider moving to the safety of the cabin, closing the sliding glass door to separate her from these magnificent birds.
Instead, she slowly reached out a curious hand, expecting the bird to fly away long before her fingers touched feathers. Surprisingly the bird did not flee, but instead, stood very still while Miranda carefully stroked one silky wing. That sharp beak was so close, and yet she felt no fear. The piercing eyes seemed to scrutinize her with intelligence, and she studied the bird in return.
“I have a ceramic raven at home,” she set, allowing her hand to fall. The bird did not back away, and neither did she. “I found it at a garage sale, and I had to have it. It’s not very well made and there’s a small chip on one wing, but it called to me. In its own tacky way it’s beautiful, but next to you it pales. You’ve ruined me for it, I suppose. I also have a book or two on ravens that I leave on my coffee table just so I can look at the pictures now and then, and there’s a small painting I found in a furniture store that was going out of business.” Again, she glanced up to the top of the mountain. “Bren would be horrified. He’s not a fan of animals in decorating. Not that I would put my small collection of ravens in the same class as a dancing bear or a duck in a hat.” For the first time since she’d met Duncan Archard, Miranda let herself smile. “Is that why you all come here to see me? Do you instinctively sense that I’m a fan?” Her smile died. “The paintings and the photos don’t do you justice. You’re much more impressive up close and all but in my hands.”
A number of the ravens were perched in the dead tree just to the west of the cabin. Others sat on the railing while still more circled the cabin as if there was a tasty carcass on the roof. Or inside. Or maybe on the deck.
With a shudder Miranda stepped away from the railing and sat in the wooden rocking chair she’d claimed as her favorite. The chair was heavy and rustic, and it creaked when she rocked even a little bit. As she swayed back and forth she expected the ravens to leave, to break away from the cabin and fly across the skies. In the past couple of days they’d come here often, but they never stayed very long. This time they showed no sign of leaving her alone, not even when she went inside for a couple of minutes to grab an afghan from the couch.
When she returned to the deck she sat with the warm afghan pulled up to her shoulders. She looked beyond the railing, admiring the magnificent view. She’d never seen anything like it, and likely never would again. The world, which was crowded and noisy and often unkind, went away when she looked at those distant rolling mountains that were like a gigantic green wrinkle in the earth. She could be entirely alone in the world with the view before her. Yes, entirely alone.
Miranda studied the birds and wondered if she’d made the right decision in giving in to Archard’s threats and giving up on Bren. Not the ravens or her worry about Roger could take her mind off the man she’d sent away without anything resembling a decent explanation.
What she and Bren had was nothing more than a freak chemistry that had taken them both by surprise. He wasn’t her type; she wasn’t his. If they’d followed their instincts they would’ve regretted it later. Not that she’d suffered any real regret last night. Bren had, though. He’d left her much too soon and then he hadn’t joined her in his bed.
If she’d allowed Bren to stay with her, if she’d told him he could sit on the front porch until Roger arrived, she would’ve had a much tougher time letting him go. They’d be together right now. Naked, most likely, with him inside her. She shuddered. She’d never wanted anything so much; she’d certainly never wanted any man with such intensity. He stole her reason.
In order to get her mind off Bren and what she’d given up by sending him home, she pondered the coming conversation with Roger. How to start? Who are you? Are you really my friend? Why did you insist on bringing me here? Eventually she closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths and drifted into a restless sleep.
And she dreamed. Oh, did she dream! The image of the flock of ravens joining her on the deck and in the rocking chair was vivid. Feathers brushed lovingly against her skin and in a strange kind of stereo they whispered her name. Mir-an-da. Mir-an-da. She should be afraid to have so many large birds resting on her lap and sitting on her shoulders. They perched on her body and flitted about her, coming dangerously close with claws and beaks but never hurting her. They sat at her feet and cawed, and she was not afraid.
In the way of dreams, the ravens turned into Bren in the blink of an eye. One heartbeat she was surrounded by large black birds with fluttering black wings, the next she was holding a naked man. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered into her ear where moments earlier a raven’s wing had caressed her.
“I have no choice,” Miranda whispered.
Since this was just a dream she did not fear for his life. She didn’t send Bren away, and he didn’t draw away from her. She didn’t warn him that a man he considered his friend would kill him if he dared to love her. She allowed him to undress her, to press his warm body to hers, to spread her thighs and push inside her. Nothing had ever felt so right, so inevitable…
It wasn’t fair. For a moment they’d been so close to all they wanted, and then a man’s senseless threat had stolen it away. How could something so beautiful be a threat to anyone?
With slow, easy thrusts, Bren filled her again and again. Ripples of pleasure leading her to complete release teased, offered a hint of what was to come. She held on to Bren tightly because this time she would not let him go too soon. This time he would come with her, and her pleasure would be complete because it was shared. She clasped him to her with her body, with her arms, with her legs, and they began to move faster. He was everywhere…
“Dammit, Miranda!”
Roger’s sharp shout from inside the cabin interrupted Miranda’s dream. Her eyes flew open and for a split second she saw before her Bren as he had been in her dream, naked and wanting. She blinked and he was gone. Roger’s
voice frightened the ravens, and they all shot from the railing and the nearby tree as he threw open the sliding glass door and burst onto the deck.
He gave the birds a glance but didn’t even pause before lighting into her. “A man breaks into the cabin and you don’t even call me? You shimmy down a damn post in the middle of the night to escape, and when you get to a phone you don’t even think about letting me know what’s going on?”
Miranda didn’t rise from the rocking chair. Instead, she looked up at her old friend and said one single word that stopped him cold.
“Keeper?”
The big man paled. She’d seen him study gruesome murder scenes, she’d watched as he kept his cool with suspects he could not yet confront with all he knew, and she’d been there when his youngest daughter had broken her leg. And she’d never seen him go white like this.
“Who have you been talking to?” Roger asked when he could find his voice. His eyes flicked momentarily to the top of the mountain.
“Not Bren, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Miranda kept the afghan around her shoulders as she stood. “Though to be honest, I don’t see that it matters where I got the information. Your reaction is enough to confirm that what I was told is the truth. Who do you work for?” She wanted very badly to know.
“That doesn’t matter,” Roger said, running his fingers through short strands of brown hair that responded by standing on end. “What matters is that—”
“You lied to me,” Miranda interrupted. “That matters. You pretended to be my friend and I think that matters quite a lot.”
“I never pretended,” Roger said.
“Oh, so you spy on all your friends?”
Roger’s jaw clenched.
Miranda knew why she was being watched. She talked to ghosts. Why was Duncan Archard watching Bren? Why was Bren considered a monster? “What is Brennus Korbinian, and why would your friend Archard threaten to kill him if I don’t leave?”
She knew Roger well enough to see that he was taken by surprise. “Duncan did what?”
“He threatened to kill Bren, or have him killed, if I don’t leave. Something about breeding and extinction. Honestly, it was all too bizarre, but the man scared me half to death.”
The ravens that had fled from the cabin when Roger had arrived were headed back in this direction, graceful and powerful, unerring in their fix on their destination. Roger glanced at the birds, took Miranda’s arm and led her into the cabin. He even took the time to lock the sliding glass door behind them. It was almost as if he was afraid the ravens could hear and understand him. And Miranda began to wonder if maybe they could.
Chapter 8
As seventy-seven ravens, Bren circled overhead and watched as Miranda threw her luggage into the trunk of Talbot’s car. The man who’d come to collect Miranda tried more than once to help her by taking her bags or offering a hand, but she refused his assistance in a manner that screamed of her displeasure. Why? Something had happened to scare her, and she wasn’t happy with anyone at the moment.
She’d come to her senses, that was all. He was the cause of her foul mood. She’d found reason just in time to keep them from making a terrible mistake. If Miranda was not Kademair, then all they could’ve had was a volatile sexual relationship that would’ve burned out in a few days. If she was Kademair, then their coming together would have the power to change the world—and his life. He’d tried to convince himself that times had changed, but in truth there was no place in the modern world for the Korbinians; he’d been well aware of that all his life. Best to let her go now, before they took a step they would never be able to undo.
The car that had collected Miranda headed down the curving road, and the flock of ravens flew toward the house at the top of the mountain. This mountain was entirely his once again. There was no need to share it with anyone, no need to hope for things that could never be his. He’d been a fool to think even for a few hours that he could share with a woman who he was and what he could do.
Miranda stared out the passenger window because she couldn’t bear to look at Roger. He was cautious with his words and the story unfolded one horrifying word at a time. There wasn’t much he could tell her, he explained, but he’d do his best, considering that his cover had been blown.
Roger started the tale with the day he’d met her. Their meeting had been no accident, as it turned out. He’d been assigned to her. Every smile, every warm word, the way he’d supported her when she spoke about the ghosts she saw, the way he’d made her a part of his family, it had all been false. He didn’t say so, of course. He tried to convince her that their friendship was real, that he’d come to respect and admire and like her, but she didn’t buy it. Why should she? He’d lied to her. Whether he’d admit it or not, he’d been pretending for as long as she’d known him.
“Who do you work for?” she asked, not even bothering to turn her head to look at him. She didn’t want him to see the tears she fought so hard to contain.
“I work for the FBI.”
“Maybe you do,” she said coolly, “but you also work for someone else. You can tiptoe around it all you want, but that doesn’t make the truth go away. Your friend Archard threatened to kill Bren if I didn’t leave with you. He also said if he didn’t get the chance to do it, someone else would. Someone like you.”
The car remained steady on the road, but Roger’s voice was anything but. “He had no right to do that. As soon as I get you to safety I plan to report him to…”
“To who?” Miranda prodded sharply when Roger faltered.
He pursed his lips and said no more.
“The man you hired to watch me while I was on vacation threatened to kill Bren in order to keep us from…well, in order to keep us apart. Why? Please explain to me in a way that makes some sense. Does Archard scare away every woman Bren gets close to? Is Bren not allowed to have any kind of a love life? I seriously doubt he’s a virgin.” She wouldn’t give Roger the details, but a man with that kind of self-control was no beginner. “Why are you people so damned determined to keep us from…from…” there were no words for what she felt, so she finally decided on something ordinary and casual “…from hooking up.”
“I suppose it’s true, then,” Roger said softly. “At least Archard has reason to believe it’s true, otherwise he never would’ve dared to threaten you.”
“What’s true?” Miranda asked, and her head snapped around so she could see Roger’s traitorous face in the last light of the day. “Dammit, I’ve had enough of this dancing around the issue. I want the whole story!” she shouted. “In the past two days I’ve had to shimmy down a very long wooden post to escape from a man with a gun, I’ve been threatened, a friend has been threatened, and I’ve had my life turned upside down in more ways than I knew was possible. No more bits and pieces of the story. If you’re telling the truth about being my friend, then you’ll tell me all of it. Now.”
For a long while Roger didn’t respond. His expression was closed to her; it was cool and stoic. But he took the next exit off the interstate and headed for a yellow-signed Waffle House. “I need coffee and something to eat for this conversation,” he grumbled.
Duncan had watched a very unhappy Miranda Lynch ride off with Roger Talbot. She’d given the gas station a brief and dismissive and almost forlorn glance as they passed. Quinn had been right, after all. Lynch was willing to leave in order to save Korbinian. She would deny the strong pull she felt to him in order to save his life. Too bad. In Duncan’s opinion the world would be better off with the last of the Korbinians gone. All he needed was an excuse.
With any luck Lynch would make her way back here, inexorably drawn to the man she couldn’t have. If she did, he’d be waiting, ready to finish the job Quinn hadn’t allowed him to finish this time around.
Lynch and Talbot had been gone less than two hours when Duncan’s cell phone rang. He recognized the number. The old man was probably calling to gloat.
“Archard,” Duncan answered.
Duncan instinctively glanced to the nearby mountain road. “Korbinian?”
“No, you idiot, Talbot! I had a team on them in case Korbinian tried to pull a stunt to get the woman back. As we speak Talbot and Lynch are sitting in a public restaurant and he’s telling her much more than anyone outside the Order should know.”
Talbot was not the strongest or most dedicated member of the Order of Cahir, a fact Duncan had long been aware of. But he’d never imagined the man a turncoat. “What do you want me to do?”
There was a long moment of silence. “Can you take Korbinian?”
Duncan smiled. He’d planned and even dreamed of this scenario for years, hoping for the opportunity. “I can.”
“I want him alive. Bring Korbinian to the farmhouse. I’ll have Talbot bring Lynch.” A long sigh echoed through the phone. “It’s a shame, really. All these years and the boy’s hurt no one. The girl has been a real asset. Separately they are merely oddities we can observe and study. But I’m afraid you’re correct, Duncan. We can’t allow them to join forces.”
Miranda’s mind was reeling as they left the Waffle House. Talbot had a hand on her arm, and she did not shake the support off, even though she was still furious with him.
The fact that there was a very large and well-organized group out there watching over those with what some would call supernatural abilities was hard enough to take, but what he’d told her about Bren and his abilities was even more shocking.
The ravens that had so often visited the cabin—they were Bren. They were Korbinian. Roger used the word as if it was more than a last name, and to hear him tell the tale, it was. Even though the story Roger had told her was fantastical it also made sense in a strange way. Bren didn’t hike naked in the woods at night; he just didn’t have clothes handy when he changed from raven to man. The piercing dark eyes, the silky black hair, the keen senses…