The Night Raven

by Sarah Painter

  ‘Hi Dad,’ Lydia said, struggling to sit up.

  ‘I’m not your dad, love,’ her father said. He looked around. ‘I’m waiting for the bus but I’ll help you look for your daddy if you like?’

  ‘He was better this morning,’ her mum said quietly. ‘I wouldn’t have brought him otherwise.’

  ‘It’s just the stress of an unfamiliar environment,’ Charlie said, patting her mum on the arm. ‘He’ll be fine once you get him home.’

  Lydia watched her mum lean toward Charlie for a moment, gathering strength. It was funny, but she’d never really thought of their relationship; that Charlie was her mother’s brother-in-law, that they had known each other as young people with their whole lives ahead of them and now, with Charlie’s brother looking around his daughter’s bedroom with a bemused expression.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  Her mum was looking at her again and Lydia tried to smile. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Course you are,’ Charlie said. ‘Tough as feathers, our Lydia.’

  ‘What time is it?’ Her dad was looking at Charlie. ‘Are we late?’

  ‘Nah, mate,’ Charlie said easily. ‘It’s all good.’

  ‘I’d better get him home,’ Lydia’s mum reached for her and Lydia wrapped her arms around her for another hug. She clung tightly for a moment and then let go. Her mum stood up and put on her jacket before helping her dad into his coat.

  ‘Bye, everyone,’ her dad said, smiling politely. ‘Thanks for having me.’

  Once they had gone, Charlie turned to Lydia. ‘Do you need anything?’

  ‘An explanation would be nice,’ Lydia said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth about Madeleine? You knew she was strong. And unstable. You could have warned me.’

  ‘I made a mistake,’ Charlie said. Lydia was glad she was lying down as she might have fallen over. The great Charlie Crow admitting to being fallible.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about her,’ he added. ‘You said she’s gone and I know Madeleine, she won’t be back.’

  ‘But I do,’ Lydia replied. ‘She could have killed me.’

  ‘I am aware,’ Charlie said. He looked grim.

  ‘I was trying to help her.’ Madeleine’s words were flooding back. The things she had said about Charlie. Her parents had always said that Charlie wasn’t to be trusted but she had never, not for a second, thought that he would knowingly put her in danger. He was her uncle. He was Family.

  ‘I know,’ Charlie said. ‘That’s my fault.’

  Lydia scooted back down in the bed and acted more done-in than she felt. She needed time to process everything and to work out what version she was going to present to Charlie. He wasn’t pressing her for details just yet, but that wouldn’t last.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Charlie said.

  Lydia had always seen her uncle Charlie as massive, ten feet tall at least, and three times louder than any other man. He looked smaller than usual, folded in on himself and his voice was soft. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said. ‘I swear I didn’t know.’

  ‘You made sure it was covered up. When she was drunk driving or whatever that actually was.’

  There was a pause. Lydia wondered if Charlie would pretend not to know what Lydia was talking about.

  ‘She was testing herself,’ Charlie said eventually. ‘She had discovered that she could make things move just by wishing and she was driving the car without her hands.’

  ‘And texting at the same time.’

  He shrugged. ‘I said she was powerful. I never said she was bright.’

  ‘You sent me after her.’

  ‘I didn’t think you would find her. Not alive.’

  Lydia was shocked by his matter of fact tone. She felt a thrill as she realised that he was speaking plainly, though, and honestly. Or as honestly as Charlie Crow ever spoke. It was nice to be trusted, valued. And then she caught herself - this was exactly how he reeled people in, got them to do his bidding. Family loyalty, yes, but the flattery of being on the inside. The evolutionary drive to be inside the cave, closest to the fire. ‘Do John and Daisy know?’

  Charlie nodded.

  ‘They are frightened of her?’ Lydia said.

  ‘Proud at first, but yeah...’ Charlie said. ‘They didn’t know what she was capable of and couldn’t control her at all.’

  ‘Maybe that was part of the problem. Trying to control her?’

  Charlie looked tired. He passed a hand over his face. ‘We all handled it badly. I didn’t believe… I didn’t think.’ He stopped. ‘I didn’t think she was capable of anything truly bad.’

  ‘You didn’t realise how strong she was?’ Lydia guessed. ‘Even though you were training her every day after she lost her job.’

  Charlie pulled a face. ‘She told you about that, then.’

  Lydia didn’t reply.

  ‘It was intoxicating.’ He plucked a coin out of the air and began playing with it, flipping it across the back of his knuckles. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight. The excitement of it, after all this time. You know the stories?’

  ‘That we used to be able to turn into crows and fly away? That we could see for miles, know what a person wanted most in the world, turn tap water into beer, and talk to each other without speaking.’

  Henry and Susan may have vowed to bring Lydia up away from the Family business and Camberwell and give her a childhood amongst the normals, but Henry Crow hadn’t hidden his true nature. Lydia’s bedtime stories had been the same as any other Crow.

  ‘So you know.’ Charlie flipped the coin and Lydia plucked it from the air before it could land.

  ‘It’s all in the past, though,’ Lydia said. ‘Why should it matter now? We have real businesses and we’ve made peace with the other families. There’s no need for anything else.’

  ‘Need? Maybe not,’ Charlie said. ‘But the want of it hasn’t gone away. Look at me.’

  Lydia looked, then. She was still holding Charlie’s coin and it grew hot in her hand, the tattoos on his arms seemed to be moving, and his eyes were all black. Holes in his face which spoke of one thing only; desire. ‘You miss the old days,’ Lydia said. Suddenly it hit her. ‘That’s why you want to open this place.’

  ‘Partly.’ Charlie held his hand out and Lydia gave him his coin. ‘I also wanted to give you something to do. Here. A place you could call your own so you would stay.’

  ‘But I told you I don’t want the cafe open. I don’t want people around and I don’t want to spend my day making lattes and toasted sandwiches.’

  Charlie’s smile was rueful. ‘I got it wrong. I admit.’

  ‘Damn right,’ Lydia said.

  ‘But I was right about one thing. You do need something to do. Otherwise it would just have been one of your quick visits. Duty round of the family, couple of nights with your parents, have coffee with that sweet friend of yours and then away. Just like all the other times.’

  Typical Charlie, thinking he knew best for everyone. Always trying to control the direction of the flock. ‘I don’t want to run a cafe.’

  ‘Got it,’ Charlie said. ‘I saw your door.’

  ‘I didn’t buy that,’ Lydia said. ‘It just appeared.’

  ‘An anonymous gift?’ Charlie frowned. ‘Somebody knows you better than I do.’

  Lydia kept her mouth shut about Paul Fox. Charlie was being very open and very reasonable. Reminding him that she’d had once been bonking the opposition would not be a great idea. ‘I have a place to live and a job. In Scotland.’

  ‘It’s got a ring to it,’ Charlie said. ‘Crow Investigations. How do you feel about staying here long-term? Rent free?’

  Something deep inside Lydia said 'yes'. But her sensible side asked: ‘What’s the catch? And why are you so keen for me to stay?’

  ‘No catch,’ Charlie said, but his eyes slid to the left. ‘Family comes first, you know that. Besides, I owe you. Need to pay my debt.’

  ‘For almost getting me killed.’

  Charlie stood up, looki
ng very tall and very scary again. The flatness was behind his eyes and Lydia wondered if she was about to see the side of him which Daisy seemed to hate so much. Instead, he simply said: ‘Yes.’

  * * *

  After Charlie had gone, Lydia took a long hot shower and got dressed. She spent time doing her eye-liner and tidying up her office space, deliberately not looking at her front door. Crow Investigations. Her own firm. She rang Emma. ‘What am I waiting for?’

  ‘What, now?’ Emma said, sounding not unreasonably confused.

  ‘Charlie says I can stay here rent-free, which would really help if I was starting my own business. Cash flow is tricky in the first couple of years for a new enterprise.’

  ‘You’re thinking of staying?’ The hope and excitement in Emma’s voice made something click inside Lydia. Yes, Paul Fox was an entitled dick who was playing mind-games. Yes, Charlie Crow was undoubtedly manipulating her for his own ends. Yes, her parents had, without doubt, been right to keep her away from Camberwell, to keep her safe. But this wasn’t about them. This was about what she wanted. ‘Thinking about it,’ Lydia said. ‘Definitely thinking about it.’

  ‘Don’t think,’ Emma said. ‘Just do it. Stay.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lydia sat at her desk and opened her laptop. She drafted her resignation email to Karen, thanking her for the training and offering to help out whenever Karen needed a contact in England. Her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button and she was grateful for the interruption, when there was a gentle tap on the living room door. ‘Yes?’

  Jason came into the room, carrying a mug. He placed it on the desk and looked at her triumphantly. He looked so pleased with himself it made his face seem very open and young. And she remembered him grappling with Maddie, trying to protect her, help her. Again. A lump formed in her throat. ‘Jason –’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Jason said. ‘We’re okay. Drink your tea.’

  ‘I like coffee,’ she said, but took a sip. It was tepid and she wondered how long it had taken him to carry it from the kitchen.

  ‘I put sugar in it,’ Jason said. ‘For the shock.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lydia said.

  ‘You look like your mum,’ Jason said.

  The events of the morning rushed back in. ‘My dad was really bad,’ Lydia said, swallowing back sudden tears.

  ‘I think it’s you,’ Jason said.

  Lydia felt as though he had punched her in the stomach. She sat back in her chair. ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘I’m not being mean,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘But think about it. I couldn’t do anything before you came. I hadn’t spoken to a single soul in thirty years.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lydia said, ‘I’ve always had a sensitivity for spirits. Same as I’m sensitive to magic. I told you I can sense the families and their powers. I’m a metal detector for magic.’

  Jason spoke quickly. ‘It’s not just that. I couldn’t touch anything. I definitely couldn’t pick things up. I couldn’t make tea.’

  ‘So you got stronger.’

  ‘Once you moved in.’

  Lydia paused while his words sank in. ‘You think I did this to you?’

  ‘Maybe. And I think it’s the same with your dad. What is making him sick? Is it Alzheimer's?’

  ‘Sort of,’ Lydia said. ‘Charlie says it’s to do with suppressing his magic all these years. He hasn’t let it out enough and so it’s turned back in on him. I mean, the Crows aren’t what they used to be but I guess there’s enough juice still to cause some harm.’

  ‘If you, like, power him up, the way that you do to me, then wouldn’t that make his symptoms worse when he’s around you?’

  * * *

  Lydia needed time to think about Jason’s battery theory. She needed time and space and quiet to work out whether Jason was right and, if so, how she felt about it. Instead, Charlie was determined to go ahead with opening The Fork to the public. His show of contrition evidently didn’t extend to altering his plans.

  Although, Lydia did manage to veto an opening party. She told Uncle Charlie that if she saw so much as a single Time Out or Metro journalist she would be on the next train back to Aberdeen. As soon as the words had left her mouth she regretted them. Not the sentiment but the detail. Charlie would have known instantly that it was an empty threat and you should never tell a Crow something you weren’t going to follow through on. Still, Charlie had nodded in a resigned fashion. ‘You want to make the place fail and for your poor old uncle to lose money. I’m sure you have your reasons.’

  Lydia scoured the local press and websites and scanned the local area for posters or flyers. There was nothing and when Angel flipped the sign on the front door and retreated behind the counter, Lydia opened her well-loved copy of Practical Magic and sat at a corner table, certain that the day would be a dud, the week quiet and that The Fork would have closed its doors again by the following month.

  Instead, just five minutes later a couple of passing labourers popped in for takeaway coffee and bacon rolls. They looked around approvingly and one of them gave Lydia a thumbs up gesture as he left. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said cheerfully.

  Lydia didn’t answer.

  Then, as if some ancient seal had been broken, the door opened again and a woman in a suit and beige trench coat stepped over the threshold. ‘Are you open?’

  ‘Yep,’ Angel said, flashing white teeth. ‘Sit-in or takeaway?’

  The woman looked around and said ‘sit-in’ before coming all the way inside and closing the door behind her. Except that there was another woman behind her in a Puffa jacket with a high ponytail. And so it continued. A steady stream of customers in the first hour so, mainly for takeaway tea or coffee and Angel’s pastries, but a few sitting in and filling the place with the warm sounds of cutlery on china and the rustle of newspaper.

  Lydia gave up on reading and went to see if Angel needed help. ‘Just this once,’ she said.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Angel said. ‘It’ll quiet down soon and I’ve got Leon coming in for the lunchtime rush.’

  ‘What’s that?’ A woman with a sleeping baby in a sling was at the counter, pointing at a Portuguese tart and Lydia stepped behind the counter to serve her while Angel dealt with the coffee machine. It was quite fun for ten minutes or so. The simplicity of the transaction, the satisfaction of seeing someone walking away with a plate of sweet deliciousness, the glow of anticipated pleasure radiating in a halo.

  As promised, the stream reduced to a trickle by ten and Angel sat down in between serving customers. Lydia saw a face in the small circle of glass in the kitchen door. Pushing it open, she felt a breath of icy air across the back of her hand so managed not to jump when she saw Jason stood on her right, peering hungrily at the glimpse of the busy cafe behind.

  Lydia waited until the door had swung shut before speaking. She didn’t want Angel to think she was any weirder than she already did. ‘You okay?’ Jason looked strained and his eyes seemed darker than usual.

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I’m just...’

  Lydia waited while Jason floated back to his position in front of the door, peering through the little round porthole. She opened her mouth to tell him to move, that someone would see him, but then she remembered that nobody else could. ‘I can’t believe how many people have come in already,’ she said, instead.

  Jason didn’t look at her.

  ‘I guess it’s just the novelty value. It’ll settle down when people realise it’s just a bog-standard caff. They’ll all move onto the next new thing.’ Nothing. ‘Right?’ Lydia tried again.

  Jason didn’t move and Lydia was beginning to get creeped out. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It looks so different,’ Jason said. ‘But also the same.’

  ‘It’s clean,’ Lydia said, smiling.

  ‘Everything moves on. Everyone else gets to move on. To change. I mean, look at you.’ He turned, then, and the expression on his face was desolate. ‘You look happy.’

  ‘
I’m not,’ Lydia said, trying to reassure him.

  ‘You are. When you arrived you were,’ he waved his hands, ‘tragic. Now you have all this purpose. This intent.’

  ‘That’s not happiness.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jason said shaking his head. ‘But it’s definitely different.’

  ‘And that’s not good?’ Lydia was trying to keep up, but Jason was speaking fast, his voice wavering and fading in places and his outline was vibrating in the way it did when he was agitated or upset.

  ‘Everyone changes but I’m just stuck.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lydia said, feeling the insubstantiality of the words. ‘You’ve changed, though. You’re stronger than you were.’

  ‘Amy loved The Fork. Her parents wanted to have the reception at Paco’s...’ he broke off. ‘Is Paco’s still open. The tacos there were amazing.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lydia said.

  ‘Well, anyway. Amy put her foot down. She said she didn’t care that it was too small for dancing or that it belonged to the Crows.’

  ‘She knew?’

  ‘Everyone knew,’ Jason said. ‘But Amy didn’t care. She wanted The Fork. Said it meant something to her.’ He turned enormous dark eyes on Lydia. ‘What did it mean to her?’

  Lydia didn’t answer. She didn’t know.

  ‘I’ve been here for more than thirty years and I’ve looked at every inch of this stupid place and I still don’t understand. Why was this place important? And why did it have to be –’ he stopped speaking abruptly, his shoulders heaving as if he was trying to take a deep breath.

  Lydia couldn’t move. She had never been good in the face of raw emotion, didn’t know what to do or how to act. She knew her expression had a tendency to look fierce, so she concentrated on keeping her muscles soft, trying to mould them into a sympathetic expression that was genuine. Something, she realised, that was getting harder by the second as she became more and more aware of her face.

  Jason stopped crying. ‘What are you doing?’ His voice was thin and impatient.