Raven and the Dancing Tiger

by Cutter, Leah

  Tamara was talking on the phone as she crossed the street, laughing.

  Peter's heart warmed, though Cai didn't seem happy to see her.

  She turned down the street, walking toward Peter. She seemed startled to see him, and quickly ended her phone call.

  "So you found me," she said as she came up.

  "Huh?" Peter asked, then pressed his lips together. So smooth, Romeo.

  "What, did you follow me?" Tamara asked, angry now, indicating the apartment buildings.

  "Wait, you live here? Really? I didn't know, I swear," Peter said. "I was just walking home from the store." He hefted his bags at her. "With my groceries."

  "You weren't waiting here for me?" Tamara said, eyes narrowed, still glaring.

  "No! I wasn't! I swear!" Peter assured her.

  Cai grumbled louder, pushing forward images of nest, home.

  "Look, I know you said you were sensitive about where you lived. I'm sorry. I really wasn't trying to find out," Peter added. "I gotta get going before the ice cream melts. I'll see you later."

  After Peter had turned to go, Tamara asked, "Did you buy dinner?"

  Peter looked over his shoulder at her. "Nope." Hope pounded in his chest. Maybe he hadn't screwed everything up completely.

  "Wanna take me out for Indian food?"

  "Sure!" Peter said enthusiastically. "Should I pick you up here?"

  Tamara stilled at that. "Okay," she said after a pause. "6:30?"

  "I'll—I'll be back then. See you."

  "Laters."

  Peter picked up the pace as he started walking home again.

  Cai sent the image of marbles.

  "Later," Peter said.

  Marbles.

  After food.

  Cat.

  "There's no cat," Peter mumbled, rolling his eyes.

  After Peter got back to his apartment and put away his groceries, he went and got the bowl of marbles and rolled them, one by one, through the late afternoon sunshine. The light refracted off the centers, and bright splinters danced around the room. Cai cawed and swung Peter's head around, following them.

  But then Cai made Peter pick one up and rub it between his fingers.

  Shiny. Smooth.

  Hard, came Cai's response. Cold.

  Shiny, Peter said, rolling it through the sunshine.

  Cai fluffed up his feathers and retreated again.

  * * *

  Peter had expected Tamara to be waiting for him outside her apartment building, but she invited him upstairs when he rang the door buzzer. Her building was nicer than his: The front entranceway had a chandelier and marble floors, and taking up one entire wall was an old photograph of the building, from 1909, when it had just been built.

  The stairs going up were wide, covered in navy blue carpeting. The banister gleamed as if it had just been polished, and smelled like lemon oil. Tamara's hallway had huge ceilings and showed a bit more wear from people moving in and out, a few scuffmarks on the ivory paint.

  Tamara's apartment was like out of an old-fashioned movie. Rich red and blue drapes hung from the ceiling and were tacked up on the walls, like a tent. Fat pillows of all colors covered the couch, the floor, the chairs, and even the kitchen counter. Instead of lamps, votive candles burned on the table and along the windowsill, making the rooms seem even more closed-in. The smell of patchouli incense lingered in the humid air. Though it was as warm as Peter's apartment, he left his heavy leather jacket on.

  "I'll be just a minute," Tamara told Peter, leaving him in the living room while she went into the back.

  "I was thinking maybe we could go out dancing afterward," Peter called. "If you want to. Since it's our second date and all." He grinned.

  Cai just buried himself further down, curling in on himself, turning his back toward Peter, as if he was mad about something.

  Tamara came out after a moment. "You do realize that you and I, we can't be boyfriend and girlfriend."

  "Why not?" Peter asked, startled.

  Cai suddenly unfurled and stirred.

  "You really are so young," Tamara commented.

  "So?" Peter asked, stung. What did that have to do with anything?

  Suddenly, Tamara was right there, in front of Peter. Peter stumbled back, tripping over the pillows. He caught at the fabric, feeling as trapped as a fly in a spiderweb.

  "Don't you know, little boy?" Her voice was low and throaty. "My kind eat your kind."

  She rumbled a deep growl and her eyes turned golden and cat-like.

  Not shiny. Hard. Cold.

  Peter squawked and slid to the side. "No!" He stumbled again, this time falling.

  Claws swung and missed.

  "Don't you want to dance, little boy? We're still going on our first date, right?" Tamara teased.

  Cai crouched inside Peter, his feathers puffed up. The room had already lost its color.

  "No," he croaked. He shivered, aligning himself further with his raven warrior soul, then slipped out of his leather jacket.

  "And you know what my kind do to yours? We pluck out your eyes."

  With a great screech, Peter launched himself forward. He'd already lost his hands to feathers. He batted at Tamara with one of those while kicking out hard with a foot, surprising her with a hit to her shin.

  Then he kept running, throwing himself through the hard glass of the window and out into the night.

  Chapter Two

  Petie squirmed, pulling on the car seat straps, trying to get a better look at the sky outside. He looked out the window on one side of the rental car, then the other, then the front again.

  The sky went on forever, all blue and perfect. No buildings or trees stood in the way. Petie could follow it all the way down to where it touched the ground on all sides.

  He'd never seen anything so pretty before.

  Sometimes pillars of reddish rocks grew up out of the ground, blocking a piece of the sky, but Petie didn't mind. They looked like they were made from grown-up building blocks, all piled up, one barely balancing on top of another.

  The air smelled different here, too, like dried grass and flowers. It smelled clean in a way Petie couldn't name, though he wanted to somehow dive up into it, bathe in that cool air.

  A blue sign flashed by on the side of the road. Though it had been fast, Petie still proudly read it out loud.

  "Rest are. Are-a."

  "Area," Dad said from the front seat, directly in front of Petie.

  "Area. Hey! Rest! Can we stop, Mom?"

  Mom caught Petie's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Do you have to go potty?"

  Petie shook his head. "No. I just—want to go." He waved his hand toward the window, the blue sky, all that space out there.

  Wyoming was nothing like their home in Seattle.

  "I don't know," Mom said. "Do you think you'll be able to get him back in the car?"

  "Probably not," Dad said. "The change is too close."

  Dad turned to face Petie. "Can you hold out for another hour, sport? Then you'll be able to run around all you want."

  "Maybe," Petie said. He could wait, but he really didn't want to.

  "Less than an hour," Mom promised.

  Petie sighed. "Okay."

  Next to the rest area exit stood a huge orange block with a creepy, carved head sticking out of it. "What's that?" Petie asked, staring as they drove past. The face had lips that curled back, as if he was growling.

  "That's Lincoln," Dad said.

  "He looks mean," Petie said, no longer looking to the side. He was glad they hadn't stopped at the rest stop—that Lincoln had scared him. Though he still really wanted to get out, under that sky.

  The road turned at the statue and now they went downhill, the sides of rock cutting off the beautiful blue sky.

  They drove quickly through the town at the bottom of the hill, then they were out in the open again. Soon Mom turned off the main highway, onto a skinnier road.

  "Heading north," Dad told Petie. "We'll be there soon."
>
  Petie wondered why his voice was so rough. He knew they were going to the place Dad had spent a lot of time growing up. None of the boys or girls he'd known would be there, just the buildings and maybe some of the teachers.

  "Okay," Petie said. To the right side now grew a huge white cliff, cutting off the sky. It still looked like it would be fun to climb on. To the left everything stayed open; no rocks, no trees, just fields and sky. Petie wanted to get lost there.

  They left the two-lane and drove up a winding hill on a road only wide enough for one-and-a-half cars, then switched to another road made of dirt. Petie had never been on a road made of dirt before. He liked how the car left a huge cloud of dust behind it, as well as how the tires jiggled from all the rocks.

  They kept climbing. Mean pine trees crouched next to the road and hid the sky. It looked dark in these woods, with lots of thorns and bushes to keep people on the road. Finally, they made one last turn and the trees fell away.

  A huge, white stone building thrust out from the sheer cliff wall to the right. To the left, the whole valley opened again, and all Petie could see was sky.

  As soon as the car stopped, Petie undid his seat belt. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but he'd been sitting in the car for hours and hours and hours. Mom opened the door and put a hand in the middle of his chest before he tumbled out on his own.

  "You remember to be polite," Mom warned before she let him out of the car.

  "Yes, ma'am," Petie said.

  Why would she tell him that, and not to be careful?

  The air stopped Petie from running more than a few steps: It had looked sunny and warm outside, but it wasn't at all—it was sunny and cold, the worst kind of weather ever. The great white cliff to the right looked rocky, dusty, and cold, too. Only the open valley seemed welcoming; though the grass was winter brown, the pines were deeply green. And beyond them the land just seemed to go on forever, an ocean of earth.

  Petie wrapped his arms across his chest, giving one big shiver.

  "Come here," Mom said. She held his grey hoodie in her hand.

  "Woop!" Petie cried, racing back to his mom. He snatched the hoodie and dove into it, shivering again as the warm, soft fabric covered his bare arms. His legs weren't cold at least; his jeans kept him warm enough.

  When he poked his head out, he saw Dad standing a few feet away, talking with a tall, gray-haired man.

  "Who's that?" Petie asked, reaching for Mom's hand when they both turned and looked at him with the same sharp gaze.

  "The prefect, I guess," Mom said, giving his hand a slight squeeze. "Let's go say hello."

  Mom wasn't scared, was she? That didn't make sense, though this was Dad's school, and just for him and his relatives, and not for her. She'd gone to a regular school. She'd even told him once that she wished he could go to regular school too, even though he didn't really understand what she meant.

  "Okay," Petie said, but he still dragged his feet a little, staying behind his mom. She let him go slowly. Then he noticed that if he scuffed his shoes, he'd kick up dust on the road. He tried both hard and soft little kicks, fascinated with how the dust rose and fell.

  "Petie," Mom said, a warning in her voice.

  He nodded. He knew what she was saying. Don't get your shoes dirty.

  When Mom stopped, Petie looked up. The prefect had the same dark skin that he and his dad had. His eyes were gray, too, and they were sharper than Mrs. Fredickson's, his old kindergarten teacher who saw everything, even when she wasn't in the room. His nose was big and hard, like it had been carved out of extra-tough rock.

  Dad made the introduction. "Petie, this is Prefect Aaron."

  Petie let go of Mom's hand, wiping the sweat off on his jeans before extending it.

  "Peter," the prefect said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "Very nice to meet you."

  The prefect's hand was huge and both of Petie's could have fit inside it. But Petie liked the way the prefect had said his name, using the grown-up form. He liked how deep his voice sounded, and the funny accent as well.

  "Where are you from?" Petie asked.

  "Peter," Mom scolded.

  "From England, originally," the prefect said. "But I came to your country a long time ago to help run this school."

  "School?" Petie asked. He scowled at his dad. This was supposed to be a vacation, not more school.

  "Ravens' Hall," the prefect said, waving toward the white building. "But don't you worry, young man. No boring classrooms for you. Come, let me show you the grounds. And your rooms. You can fetch your things from the car later."

  "Okay," Petie said, eager to explore.

  Though the prefect's eyes were still sharp, his smile warmed the rest of his face. "Did you drive here from Denver?"

  "We did! But we flew when it was too dark to see," Petie added, giving his mom and dad a look. "The road, though…there was sky…"

  "I know, Peter, I know." The prefect looked over his shoulder and said, "You brought him here at the right time."

  "What do you mean?" Petie asked, tired of the secret talk that the adults kept having right in front of him.

  "You'll see," the prefect said, his smile suddenly colder. "Have you eaten?"

  "No, we—"

  A raucous squawking cut Petie off. "What's that?"

  "The ravens," the prefect said, waving toward the hall. "They're all saying hello."

  They'd drawn close enough to the building that Petie could now see that every window had black iron railings bolted above and below it. Every window also had tiny porches, just wide enough for someone to stand on. Huge black birds stood on every railing, sometimes three or four of them bunched together, cawing loudly.

  Petie stopped walking. The noise made him shiver. He glanced behind him.

  Dad was grinning. He looked like he wanted to race forward and join them.

  Mom looked startled, and maybe a little scared. She glanced at Dad, then down at Petie.

  "Let's go say hello, too," Mom said, giving Petie a little smile before taking his hand and starting to walk again.

  Petie shook his head but followed along, a little afraid now of the big white building and the hundreds of birds.

  But at the back of his mind lay a calming thread.

  Blue skies.

  * * *

  After dinner in the noisy cafeteria in the basement, Petie yawned his way to his room, still protesting, "But I'm not ready to go to bed!" His stomach was comfortably full of Tater Tots and hamburgers, and ice-cold milk that had tasted richer than what he was used to.

  Dad stood in the doorway that joined their two rooms. "Your eyes are already at half mast. I can see the shades drawing from here."

  Petie giggled and flopped his face down on the thick, soft blankets of the bed that was just his size. "Can you see them now?"

  Dad just laughed. "Get ready for bed, you. We'll do more exploring tomorrow."

  Petie flipped onto his back. The ceiling wasn't very interesting. Nothing in the room was, really. The walls were painted a dark cream color, like Mom's fancy coffee drinks that still tasted too much like coffee. They didn't have any pictures or posters or anything cool—they were just plain walls.

  What drew his attention was the skinny door and wide windows that covered the far wall. Earlier that afternoon, Petie had slid open the door, surprised at how strongly the wind had pushed at him. The balcony was barely big enough for him to stand on. The bottom of it was just rails, not boards. Anything he dropped would go all the way to the ground.

  In front of Petie, the whole valley had spread out. The brown grass wound down and disappeared into the tall pines and leafless trees that went on and on.

  Above them, though, was all that sky.

  Petie found he'd gotten up and walked to the windows again without really thinking about it. He put his hand up, touching the cold glass. Stars shone in the velvet night sky; the trees were hidden, but Petie could still smell them, sweet pine and dusty oaks.

  "Later, s
port," Dad said.

  Petie startled with a squawk.

  "Bed."

  Petie brushed his teeth in the sink next to the door, used the bathroom down the hall, then changed into his comfy flannel PJs.

  Dad came back in the room to tuck him in.

  "Where's Mom?"

  "She's meeting some people downstairs," Dad said, smoothing his hand over the top of the soft blankets. "You'll see her in the morning."

  Dad's words felt like a lie. Mom was downstairs, but she was doing something else, something important. However, Petie was too sleepy to argue, fascinated by the rhythm of his dad's hand: It felt like he were smoothing down the rough edges everywhere, even inside of Petie.

  "Good night, my son," Dad said. His voice sounded like it came from the other room, though Petie would swear he still sat on the bed.

  Petie struggled to open his eyes.

  He must have been dreaming already because it was like two of Dad were there—the one that looked like Dad still sitting on the bed, and the taller one standing next to the windows, covered in a huge, black-feathered cape.

  * * *

  When Petie woke later, it was dark in the room. The only light came from the windows. Curious, he climbed out of the bed and glided across the floor, everything smoother and easier than ever before.

  It wasn't cold at all when he stepped outside onto the broad balcony, and there was no wind, though he remembered Dad saying that it was always windy in Wyoming. The air still smelled clean and cool, like it had just blown in, fresh off the mountains in the distance.

  Hundreds of ravens filled the valley, their glossy black feathers sheened and silvery in the moonlight. Their cawing made it hard to hear anything else. The sound rose and fell, like waves on the ocean.

  A deep moan made Petie realize he wasn't alone on the balcony.

  A huge bird shuffled from one foot to the other in the corner. Its golden eyes were the only light thing about it.

  "Hey, it's okay," Petie told the bird as he knelt down on the hard rails. Petie didn't understand why he wasn't scared, crawling along the long length of the balcony over to the bird, but he wasn't.