Call of the Raven

by Shawn Reilly

  Call of the Raven

  The Union Series

  Book One

  Shawn Reilly

  Call of the Raven

  By Shawn Reilly

  Published by ShawnReilly/Doubtingauthorpublications/Smashwords

  Copyright©2013ShawnReilly

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  ~~~~Dedications~~~~

  Years ago when I met sixteen-year-old James Kelly from the UK in an online writing workshop, I told myself that if I ever succeeded in getting a book published, I would remember to dedicate a book to him. James read my horrible attempts at writing a science fiction titled Heart, Soul and Mind. Not only did he keep his mind open to my lack of knowledge of both science fiction and the English language, he encouraged me to stick with it when I saw no hope. I hope you’re still writing. The world needs to know of The Darkest Dawn.

  And lastly, but by no means least, this book is dedicated to my husband Greg, who not only had to share me with my computer but with my characters, and often crazy worlds. Without his support and love, I would be nothing. I truly have a love worth fighting for.

  ~~~Acknowledgements~~~

  I don’t know where I would be without the backing of some very dear people. First, I want to thank my three daughters. Had it not been for my youngest daughter Chelsea taking me hostage while I was sick and making me watch anime with her, this book would never have happened. Thanks to my middle daughter Bethany for giving me the name of the main character Asher Lake, and eldest daughter Kristin for giving me the name Elle, the ending storyline, and all the brainstorming in between. Had I not been able to bounce ideas off of you three, I don’t know where I’d be

  I give a big hearty thanks to Stephanie Bell for her early reading of the book before it was ever touched by an editor’s pen. Thanks to both Kristin Smothers and Robin Day for your constant reassurance and for helping me to clear up any inconsistencies.

  Thank you to Lea-Ellen Borg for the research and information she provided and to Cyndi Santolin Delia, Nancy Qualls and Jill Huett-Ziegler for taking time out of their busy schedules to read for me. I would like to give a special thanks to Melvina Davis my devoted speed reading beta reader for pointing out gaps, and not just reading Book One but whizzing through to Book Three faster than I could finish it. And a very special thank you goes to Literati Literature Lovers for their review and support.

  And in conclusion I would be remiss to not mention my editor Karen Crain-Hedger of Crain Editing. The stories I’ve written would still be on my computer without her. I am humble enough to realize I cannot do this on my own. In so many ways all those mentioned have given me their support and dedication. They have offered encouragement and kind words even when I failed to believe in myself, and played the part of the doubting author. The story may be mine but without all those that contributed this book would have never gotten this far. So in that, I acknowledge and dedicate this book to you.

  Lastly, final thanks to Kristin Smothers for the unique and wonderful job she did on my book cover. She took the images floating around in my head and gave them sense and purpose. And thanks to Facebook and twitter for opening up the world of social media, and uniting other Indie writers such as myself. You can always find me there.

  https://www.facebook.com/shawnreillyauthor

  http://shawnreilly.wix.com/shawnreilly

  https://twitter.com/shawnreilly2012

  Table of Contents

  Prologue-The Call

  1. The Unexpected

  2. Intrusion

  3. Uprising

  4. Unwanted Seed

  5. Discovery

  6. Rebirthing

  7. Thousand Lies

  8. All Fall Down

  9. Hidden Truth

  10. The Promise

  11. The Fighter

  12. Restitution

  13. Her Song

  14. Something Broken

  15. Double Edged Blade

  16. Outsider

  17. Choices

  18. Mistaken Identity

  19. Misconception

  20. The Enchanter

  21. The Lily

  22. Fire & Ice

  Prologue

  The Call

  “Before the cock crows

  The Raven will call

  And you will be no longer.”

  ~Asher Lake

  Grant Lake dropped his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed at his tired eyes. He hadn’t slept much for days, not since the rain had begun. For a few moments he sat there in a listless stupor, staring at the waning moon hovering above the large maple, before staggering to the window to have a better look outside. He didn’t see any sign of the dark bird from his dreams but he knew it was there.

  He sensed it in his bones.

  Throughout history ravens had been considered a bad omen. To him it meant so much more. As rain streaked down the windowpane, great sadness washed over him. He was born a wolf, a leader to the world of animal shifters known as the Union, as well as protector to the protégé heirs left in his care. To his kind he was known as a Keeper, and dying young was his destiny.

  Leaving the window behind Grant went to the dresser and removed a chain from his neck. He ran his thumb across the silver medallion that bore the emblem of a wolf, and then draped it on top of an antique box shaped like a treasure chest. Closing the door behind him, he walked down the hall to little Kennedy’s room and quietly slipped inside. Taking a blue jewel from the pocket of his jeans, Grant placed it on her nightstand. After giving the eight-year-old girl a kiss on the forehead he went across the hall to the twins’ room.

  Removing the books he prepared for them, from the nightstand drawer, he placed them on top, so that they would eventually find them. In turn, he gave them both a kiss as he had Kennedy, and left the room. He had one last stop to make and that was the boys’ room. Turning the door handle he stepped inside the darkened room. The quiet was evidence that Ari was still awake. Any other time his snores could be heard throughout the entire manor. The room was shared by three boys. Two were in bunk beds and the third lay quiet and still on a single bed by the window, but it was fifteen-year-old Ari lying on the bottom bunk that he went to first.

  “Can’t sleep huh?”

  “Oh I could sleep,” Ari turned his head toward him, “but every time I drift off Asher throws something at me and wakes me up. He says my snoring bothers him, but I know he’s not even trying to sleep. He’s reading.” Ari yawned. “The fact of the matter is he’s miserable, so he feels the need to make me miserable as well.”

  Grant glanced across the room at Asher whom he knew was listening. Lately being nice to him was an extra hard task. He had become so distant and mean at times, especially to his brother Ari.

  “I think he’s worried about something, but of course he never tells me anything,” Ari complained. “He’s completely shut me out, and worst of all he won’t let me do my job as guardian.” When Grant again said nothing, Ari sat up and scanned over him. “What’s up Grant, you look a little worried too?”

  “Ari, I would like for you to take Nixon and go sleep in the twin’s room tonight. You know they don’t like storms much, and I need to talk to Asher alone.�
��

  Ari stood and looked at the boy sleeping on the top bunk. Nixon’s mouth was opened wide. Even in sleep the nine-year-old seemed to be in alert status ready to scream or worse, bite. “You know I always do as you ask Grant but can’t I leave Nixon here? He doesn’t like me.”

  Grant put a fatherly hand on Ari’s shoulder. “Just give him some time. He’s new here. Now take him and go.”

  “Oh, all right.” Ari gently pulled the younger boy by the arm toward him, and just when he was about to lift him into his arms, Nixon’s eyes and mouth flew open instinctively. Without thinking, Grant grabbed hold of his head before he could sink his teeth into Ari’s shoulder.

  “Why does he always go with the teeth?” Ari breathed. “You would think a bird—”

  “I’m not a bird you ugly wet-smelling dog!” Nixon shouted.

  Grant hushed him quiet. “I know you don’t know us that well, but we mean you no harm. This place is your refuge.”

  “I don’t need any ref-phuge!” Nixon exclaimed angrily. He pushed Grant’s hand away but the tears that threatened to form told a different story. Grant knew the boy wanted to trust him but earning his confidence would take time and time was something Grant didn’t have. “Why am I going with the dog and not him?” Nixon pointed toward Asher.

  Of all the people in the house, even over the gentle loyal Ari, Nixon had chosen Asher and Asher could care less. “I need to talk to Asher alone,” Grant repeated, “so go with Ari and don’t give him a hard time.”

  “Then tell him to keep his hands off me!” Nixon demanded jumping down from the bed. Even in that he was rebellious.

  Once they were gone Grant crossed over to the bed and looked down at the remaining boy. His hair, long and black as coal, lay against a crisp white pillowcase. His eyes were opened staring blankly out the window at the waning moon. Grant knew how he felt. Since he too was a wolf, Asher also was affected by the moon’s weakened state.

  “I’m seventeen…not yet a man,” he gravely said. “I’m too young to be a Keeper.”

  “It’s the way of things. It’s not like you have a choice,” Grant said. “Besides, what makes you think I’m going to die?”

  “Oh you will die and soon because you made the choice to fall in love.”

  “Asher, do you always have to be so brutal with your words?”

  Turning his head, Asher looked up at Grant. Even in the dark the boy’s strange eyes reflected light, but as usual there was no warmth to be found within their depths. Asher had stopped smiling. Asher had stopped laughing. Lately it was always the same blank unreadable face and the same harsh words. “You can’t stop it. You will die,” Asher flatly said.

  “And so will you.”

  “Yes, but at least I won’t die young,” Asher sighed.

  “What makes you so sure? You’re a wolf,” Grant argued. “You were born a Keeper, and whether you like it or not you will take my place.”

  “Yes, I will take your place because the Council has seen to that and will continue to do so upon your demise. However, unlike you, I have come up with a plan to guard myself against the Raven’s call.” Asher turned away as Grant sat down beside him on the bed. The boy made no indication that he planned to give him more room or that he wanted him to stay.

  “And what plan is that?” Grant picked up the book lying next to Asher’s hand. The book befittingly was by Edgar Allan Poe.

  “It’s simple really,” Asher said tonelessly. “The Raven doesn’t want us to be happy. When we are happy, when we are content, when we fall in love, that’s when the Raven appears. So I have vowed never to be happy, never to love or fall in love, and if I’m content, it is only in my acceptance of these things.”

  Grant’s frustration escalated. “Let me get this straight. You will become Keeper to the Union and to the protégés but you won’t love them? Is that what you’re implying?”

  “I will do only what is expected of me.” Asher said. “I will keep them. I will provide for them, but I will not love them, ever. It is the only way to survive.”

  “There was one Keeper that married and had children and he lived a long life.”

  “You are right. There was one such Keeper, in all the history of ani-shifts that didn’t accept the Raven’s call, but he eventually went mad. Didn’t he?” Asher’s eyes boldly lifted to Grant’s and his lips curved upward into a sardonic smile. “Or have you forgotten how your father was tormented until he eventually took his own life?”

  This time Grant did nothing to prevent the fury spurned by Asher’s words. He allowed it to show in his eyes, his face. He had never told anyone the truth about his father and for Asher to know meant he had gone prying into the archives.

  Detecting his anger, Asher exhaled, and then quickly stated, “The wolf has full autonomy. He can do as he pleases.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Only the Keeper and the Pillar Council are granted access to the archives and you are not yet a Keeper.”

  “Oh,” Asher looked away. “That’s where you’re wrong. Before the cock crows the Raven will call and you will be no longer.”

  Grant’s anger was quickly replaced by an overwhelming and alarming sadness. Just as he started to speak his eyes landed on the book that Asher clutched in his hand and with the slightest turn of his head, he noticed several other books just like it stacked on the nightstand. The titles Grant knew all too well since he had read them himself.

  Fact or mythical, the books were all about the Raven. He had spent a great majority of his life searching for an answer just like Asher. Even among the archives Asher was searching past historical events for solutions. If he wanted answers, than he couldn’t be beyond help—beyond hope. Neither of them was. Grant had to believe that.

  “I discovered a spell in an old book,” Grant said. For the first time during their conversation Asher’s attention was fully his. Even in the dim room the strange color, the almost fluorescent blue of Asher’s eyes intimidated Grant with their intensity. Lowering his gaze, Grant refused to let Asher see his doubts. He knew that his plans weren’t full proof. There were dangers that involved cost, not just to him. “I’m not going without a fight. I plan to use the spell. I want to live and I want to love. Asher, despite everything else that you feel, please lookout for me.”

  Unconvinced, Asher shook his head. “You have nothing, so nothing will change. Fate has seen to that. As I said before there is only one way, and that is my way…never to love.”

  Grant stopped in the doorway and regarded him. “What a sad, selfish way to live then.”

  ***

  There wasn’t a single star in the pitch black spans of sky, only the fading moon. As Grant Lake stood in the backyard, in the middle of a garden that filled the night with the scent of roses and honeysuckle, there was something behind his weakness, something powerful that prevented him from shifting into the wolf. Dropping down to the rain soaked ground he focused all his strength on the waning globe suspended above the outcropping of distant pines, but again nothing happened. Through the knees of his jeans the earth’s chill penetrated clear to the bone, and he shuddered because of it.

  Looking back over his shoulder toward the manor, he could make out a shadow in the second floor window. Asher was watching. Yet, knowing that he wasn’t truly alone, Grant still found no comfort. Then he heard it, the sound he had come to fear…the distant call of the Raven. Dread washed over him. His eyes lingered on Asher’s shadow, wishing he could somehow relay to him his pain. Grant refused to allow Asher to be right. He would end the curse.

  Turning away from the house, Grant stood, brushed himself off and started walking with even more determination than before. His steps were not his own, for some unseen hand was guiding him. His mind was a tangle of thoughts creating a perverted sense of time that unpredictably placed him in front of the fog shrouded trees, without the knowledge of how he got there. With one large stride, Grant crossed the threshold and entered the forest. When the haze cleared he became aware t
hat he had been transported to his family’s final resting place.

  How ironic, he thought, that the conclusion of his journey would end here.

  For several seconds Grant stared through the entrance of the cemetery. The iron gates were adorned with an intricate display of patterns. In those designs he saw the symbols of his family, the wolf, the tiger, the falcon, and the rat. There were all sorts of animal shifters, or more preferably known as ani-shifts, but these were the most important of all.

  He pictured their faces, the ones those symbols represented. They were the reasons he had accepted the call. Asher had been right. According to the archives it was only when a Keeper found love that the Raven called, and only when a Keeper ignores his fate that the Raven turns its wrath on those they love.

  Cement and marble stones in an array of shapes and sizes, some elaborate, some not, poked through a dense layer of mist that hugged the ground. In the distance he could see the steeple that marked the small church where his family conducted their funerals. Grant pushed open the gate and proceeded to walk across the soggy ground. His eyes scanned the church with its wide wooden porch and simple, yet elegant lattice work. His family never came here except to bury their dead. It was taboo. When was the last time? Parker? He had been the Keeper then, dying at thirty-four, and now Grant knew his funeral would be next.

  He stopped and his boots sunk down into the muddy ground. Again, fate directed Grant to a desolate region of the cemetery which dated centuries back. He recognized it then, situated in the farthest corner, alone and separate, practically concealed by overgrown brush and the extended branches of a willow. Several of the graves were marked with large sculptures of animals representing the form of the ani-shift that lay entombed there forever, but this grave was alone, all by itself.