Raven and the Dancing Tiger

by Cutter, Leah

  A long red bench ran along the wall, under the sloping white ceiling. Small beige tables were arranged in a line before the bench, with brown wooden chairs under each. It was both modern and homey.

  Peter pulled out the chair but gave Sally the choice of either seat. She slipped off her jacket before she slid onto the bench, revealing a sophisticated gray shirt with white pinstripes, collar, and cuffs.

  "I wasn't waiting long," Sally assured Peter as placed his coat next to hers and took his own seat on the hard wooden chair. "But you'll find out, though, that's one of my habits. I'm always disgustingly prompt, or even a bit early, like tonight."

  "Me too!" Peter exclaimed.

  "I think being late is rude," Sally confessed. "It's like, my time is more important than yours. Which it isn't."

  By Wynne's wings, they were perfect for each other.

  "Yes. Exactly."

  Tamara had been late—and that was the last he was going to think about Tamara.

  Cai gave a soft caw of agreement.

  Fly with mate.

  Peter agreed.

  Fly indeed.

  * * *

  Peter reached for the check the waitress had put on the table.

  Sally did, too.

  They ended up both holding onto the plain brown plastic holder with a slip of paper curled on top.

  "I should pay," Peter said, tugging on it playfully.

  "Should?" Sally asked, suddenly serious.

  "It's, uhmm, it's our first date," Peter said in a rush. "And I asked you. You can pay next time."

  It was their first date, wasn't it? Sally wasn't about to play some game on him, like Tamara had?

  Sally nodded slowly. "So. Next date. When I ask you out, I pay, right?"

  "Yes," Peter said, nodding enthusiastically. She wanted to go out on a second date!

  "Good," Sally said, relinquishing the check holder. "I understand holding out chairs or opening doors, but I will not be bought. Are we clear?"

  "Crystal," Peter said. He would have to be careful with her. Had she been hurt by some asshole?

  Cai ruffled at the thought.

  Guard.

  Peter nodded, still unsure what to say.

  "Look, you're probably not like this, I'm sorry. But guys sometimes think if they pay, the girl owes them something."

  "I won't do that," Peter said. "Promise. I would never think that way." He'd never take her for granted like that.

  They got on their coats and left the restaurant, heading down Broadway. Not many people joined them on the sidewalk; it was a weeknight.

  The cool night air held the promise of rain. Peter didn't care, though. His stomach was full, Cai had gotten to have raw meat, and his girl was still by his side. "May I walk you home?" he asked, hopeful but prepared for a rejection.

  "Maybe next time," Sally said. "You can walk me down to the pet shop. I need to pick up treats for Pixie."

  "Pixie?" Peter said, falling into step beside her. She didn't have a cat, did she?

  "My Scottie." Sally paused, sliding her phone out of her blue vinyl purse. "See?" She held up a photo of a tiny black dog with great big, soulful eyes.

  "Cute," Peter said, relieved. He and Cai generally got along well with dogs. "Why did you name him Pixie?"

  "He's a rescue dog," Sally said, putting her phone away. "He had another name, Blackie, but…well, you're going to think I'm crazy."

  Peter bumped her shoulder with his. "Going to?" he teased.

  "All right. See, Pixie does this little dance when I come home. He's always sitting, waiting at the door when I unlock it. Then, as I walk into the room, he circles my feet, making these little ruffing noises, not quite a bark. All the way through the living room to the kitchen, as if he's telling me about his day."

  "Okay," Peter said, not seeing the point.

  "He does this for a few of my friends, too, not everyone. But—he also does it when there's no one there."

  "What?" Peter asked, worried.

  "He'll go sit by the door, like he's heard someone there. Then he'll do the dance, circling someone or something I can't see, from the living room to the kitchen."

  "Huh," Peter said. Who or what was Pixie seeing? "Do you ever feel threatened, or unsafe?" he asked.

  "Nope," Sally said with a grin. "If Pixie approves, they're probably okay."

  What would Pixie do when he met them? How would he greet Cai? "That's cool, then," Peter said, relieved.

  "So, you believe me? You think Pixie is greeting beings I can't see?"

  "Yes," Peter said with absolute conviction. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, before he finally settled on, "There are…lots of strange things in the world."

  Sally looked at him with her clear brown eyes. "What have you seen?"

  Peter shrugged, cautious. "I just—I just feel that way."

  "It's more than that," Sally said.

  Peter's heart dropped. He couldn't tell her. Not yet. Not about Cai or magic or anything else.

  "But you'll tell me when you're ready," Sally added.

  Peter didn't nod or confirm Sally's belief. The recitations had been too many, too strong, for him to even casually think about breaking them. Still. If the image of the nest came true, he might, someday. "So are you going dancing—"

  "Got any spare change?" a harsh voice interrupted them.

  Three street kids stood outside the grocery store with a cardboard sign that said, printed in crooked letters, "Got change?"

  They hadn't bathed in days, based on their rank smell. Their clothes carried the dirt of the street. Peter didn't make eye contact with any of them.

  Sally, though, addressed them directly. "No, I don't, sorry."

  As they moved on, the one in the middle said, "Petie-Peter?"

  Peter stopped and turned.

  Jesse's face was more pinched, probably with hunger. He wore a bulky Army-green jacket over at least four layers to protect him from the cold. His jeans had graffiti on them, hand-drawn symbols, some sigils for protection that Peter recognized. He wore the same style of old high-top sneakers that he'd always worn, with no socks.

  Without meaning to, Peter glanced at Jesse's left hand. The first finger was still a little crooked.

  "Told ya I'd hitch a ride, come visit someday." Jesse gave a cackling laugh.

  Peter took a step back. Jesse's raven soul was too close to the surface. He was barely in control.

  "So what are you two love birds up to?" Jesse asked, looking from Peter to Sally and back again.

  "Leaving," Peter said firmly, taking Sally's arm and turning her, starting to walk away.

  "I'll catch up with y'all later, then," Jesse called after them.

  Peter kept walking.

  "Who was that?" Sally asked, easily falling into step with Peter. She put her hand on top of where Peter's still gripped her arm.

  "I met him at school," Peter said, not wanting to get into more details about Ravens' Hall at the moment. He glanced over his shoulder. Jesse wasn't following. Then again, he might not need to. He'd find Peter again, through scent, or just by being a raven. "We were friends—a long time ago," Peter added.

  Sally nodded. "Hard to see him that way?"

  "Hard to see him at all. Ever," Peter said. He squeezed her arm then let go, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. "Going dancing tomorrow?" Peter asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  "Naw. Work night," Sally said.

  Gratitude washed over Peter that Sally wasn't pressing for more information, or asking him how he felt.

  "But would you like to have dinner on Saturday? Then go dancing?" Sally asked.

  "Absolutely," Peter said with a grin, taking a deep breath.

  "I'll call you with the details later," Sally promised as they stepped up to the pet store.

  Peter held the door open for her, then followed her in. He didn't like this place, too many scents, too many animals. It made both him and Cai uneasy.

  While Sally paid for her treats,
Peter realized that Cai was only nervous now.

  Why hadn't Jesse made Cai uncomfortable?

  Chapter Six

  Petie walked into the Charms Room for the next class on his schedule, but then stopped just inside the door.

  The other rooms had reminded him of his school, with long wooden desks and red plastic chairs that made horrible scraping noises across the tile when he accidentally shifted on one.

  This room, though, was like stepping into a movie.

  It had the same long wooden desks, but the chairs were wooden as well, and they all matched together. From the warm wooden floor to the counters, bookshelves lined all the walls, filled with leather-bound books, titles written in curling gold letters. Above the counters, on two of the walls, the books ran all the way to the ceiling. Large windows that looked out on the back of Ravens' Hall, where the cliff hid the sun, covered the third wall, while a squeaky-clean whiteboard filled the fourth.

  Petie had never been a bookworm, and he didn't like school that much; however, this room felt comfortable, like he wanted to stay there and learn.

  What had stopped Petie, though, from walking farther into the room, were the circular brown spots lazily swimming through the air. They looked like plugs of wood, each the size of his fist. When one of the kids reached up to touch one, it didn't scoot away, but, rather, drifted out of reach. There were at least a dozen of them weaving around.

  The longer Petie stared at them, the more solid they seemed, as if they were wrapped tightly in black twine, something strong to keep them from flying to pieces. They seemed safe enough, wrapped up like that.

  He stared at the dance they did. There had to be a pattern there, something encoded in their flight. His head hurt as he stared, but he couldn't look away.

  A loud clap from behind Petie startled him enough to turn around.

  Prefect Aaron stood just inside the door, his cool gray eyes assessing and judging everyone, and never kindly.

  The prefect clapped his hands again, twice, before striding to the front of the room.

  The little brown spots followed eagerly behind him, like soldiers marching after their leader.

  When the prefect stopped behind the table up front, they fell, lifeless, onto the table, dropping silently. "Come, see," he instructed.

  Petie crowded with the rest of the class up to the table.

  Where had the brown plugs gone? Only three bundles of grass and sticks lay on the table. Black twine gathered each together in different configurations.

  One looked like a doll with a lump of green grass for its hair, its twig arms stretched up over its head and its legs pointing straight down. The second looked like a star, twigs and grass and leaves spread out wide. The third looked as if it had been played with too hard and broken. The wood of the twigs had been snapped just beyond the black twine center, and held on with just strips of bark. The grass was either dried and burned, or snarled together in a lump, hanging to one side. It smelled like moldy water.

  Petie couldn't take his eyes off it.

  "Bob, Rick, Peter—you all have headaches, yes?"

  Petie nodded with the others. How had the prefect known?

  Looking back at the black and broken thing on the table made Petie's head worse and his stomach now started to ache. But he couldn't look away.

  "Anyone else?"

  One of the two girls stepped closer. "My head and my eyes hurt," she said with a lisp.

  The prefect nodded. "If anyone else starts to feel bad, let me know right away. All right?"

  Petie made himself look away from the black thing and back up at the prefect.

  "These, here, are charms," Prefect Aaron said, continuing. "You four are sensitive to them."

  Petie grinned with pride.

  "It means you may be trapped more easily by them," the prefect warned.

  "What do you mean by charms, exactly?" one of the boys Petie didn't know asked.

  "Like Harry Potter?" another asked hopefully.

  Petie's eyes went wide.

  Magic?

  Cai shuffled nervously.

  "Not at all like Harry Potter. But yes, charms, magic that misleads you. Illusions. Glamours."

  Petie's breath came fast and sharp, as if he'd been running. "Really?" he asked, not caring if his voice squeaked, or if a couple of the other kids giggled.

  "Yes, really. You need to recognize charms when you see them, and know how to defend yourself against them."

  "And make them?" the girl with the lisp asked.

  "Only a very few of you will advance to that level," the prefect said, his voice serious. "Very few—maybe only one student in every three classes—learn how."

  Petie deflated. The other kids had stepped back from the table as well.

  Finding charms was cool, but making them… Petie sighed.

  "And, you must be well-aligned with your raven soul to do it."

  That perked Petie up. The chance to work more with Cai excited him. They still had so much to learn. Even though Cai didn't always seem to want to.

  "There are two other charms hidden in this room," the prefect said. "Find them and bring them up here."

  Petie immediately swiveled his head, glancing around. They could be anywhere, hidden in the books, under the tables, up on the windowsills—anywhere.

  "But—" the prefect added, pausing so everyone looked at him again. "If you move something, you must put it back exactly where you found it."

  "Do charms always look like these?" one of the boys asked.

  "Many do, but not all."

  Some of the other kids rushed off to the far corner, pulling out books, then carefully replacing them. A couple others dropped to the ground and looked under the desks, feeling along the edges.

  Petie was about to join them, but something held him still.

  Cai couldn't use the word for "wait"—that was too abstract for him. He generally communicated using pictures and physical things, though he had learned cold.

  Still, Petie waited, making a half turn. The room grayed out, all the colors leaching away, as he gave Cai more of his sight.

  There. Beyond the great gray birdman. In the window hung wrongness. A black spider where there should only be the whiteness of rock.

  Petie had taken two steps toward it when one of the other boys raced across the room and snatched it from where it dangled.

  "I found one!" he crowed, holding it up above his head.

  Petie shook himself, blinking, color springing back into the room.

  Cai plumped his feathers and settled back down, pleased with himself.

  Petie knew Cai wouldn't want to help again—puzzles and games only interested him once. He turned, only to find Prefect Aaron staring strangely at him.

  "Your raven soul helped you, didn't he?"

  Was it wrong for Cai to help? "Yeah, but he won't do it again," Petie said hurriedly.

  "Hopefully just once is all you need," the prefect said.

  Petie hoped so, too.

  After the lisping girl found the second charm, they all gathered back around the front table.

  Prefect Aaron held up the charm like a doll. "Anyone want to guess this charm's purpose?"

  "Did it make the pieces fly?"

  "Yes, exactly. It's a distraction charm. These are the most common types of charms." He held up the star. "And this one?"

  "It made the books glow," the girl with the lisp said.

  "You perceived them glowing? Interesting. Did anyone think this was an ugly room? No? How about very special then? That's what this does. It's an enchanting charm, the second most common."

  The prefect picked up the broken one. "Peter, can you take a guess about this one?"

  "It's hard to look away from," Petie managed, dragging his eyes to the side.

  "Precisely right. It's there to capture and hold your attention. These types of charms aren't as common, but they're much more dangerous."

  The prefect put it down and Petie breathed a sigh of relief.
Laying it on the table took away some of its power.

  The charm that Petie had almost found looked like a blackened coin. "Can anyone guess what this one is?"

  "Is it another distraction charm?" the other girl asked.

  Prefect Aaron beamed at her. "Yes. It's a hiding charm, distracting you away from whatever it's lying on."

  Cai stirred uneasily.

  It did something more. Petie was sure of it.

  One of the students asked about the black twine that all the charms had.

  Petie felt Cai tugging on him. He turned his head, slowly, looking up toward the ceiling of one of the bookcases.

  Three more charms sparkled there.

  Petie looked back away quickly so the prefect wouldn't notice him staring. What did those charms do? Why hadn't the prefect asked the class to find those? Petie knew he couldn't ask. He'd just have to figure it out on his own.

  Or rather, he and Cai.

  * * *

  Petie dragged his feet on the way to recitation class. It was the end of the day, he was tired, and it all felt too much like school. Plus, he'd attended a recitation class the year before, with his parents, the first time they'd come. It had been a lot of writing, copying down every word the prefect had said. Then his dad then drilled him on the recitations all year.

  Words like, never tell, stay hidden, keep safe.

  Things he couldn't ever tell Mom about, that were things just for him and Dad. Mom hadn't liked it, he knew, but she'd accepted it.

  At least the room was different. Instead of the stuffy office in the basement next to the kitchen that had smelled like old socks where four of students were all crammed together around an ancient and scarred wooden desk, this was a well-lit room, with dozens of modern plastic-and-metal chairs with desks attached. From the front podium, the room spread out like a fan, with semi-circles of tiers on one side. Desks were stacked on each tier, held back by iron railings.

  No windows, though—no distracting blue sky.

  Of course, all the kids who had gotten to the room first were sitting as high as they could go. All the seats up in the highest four rows were taken.

  Dang it. Maybe Petie would have to get there earlier next time.