With a deep breath, Raven focused inward. She found the animal essence waiting, beady eyes focused and alert.
Pushing deep, she ripped the essence from her center until it morphed, melting into her bones and limbs, consuming her human shape like a ravenous beast. Her mind shattered, fracturing into multiple pieces as her body erupted into a conspiracy of ravens. Sleek and black, the harbingers of death held her mind together as a collective consciousness.
She nudged them forward, and the swarm of black birds headed to the opposite bank.
Nine birds.
Last time she’d shifted, there’d been ten. She’d lost another one. She’d started out with over twenty. After Bear had “accidentally” offed one of her ravens with a sling shot when they were twelve, they learned the loss of a bird didn’t cause any long-term damage. Her consciousness housed in the once-living bird redistributed to the remaining ones instead of disappearing into the ether. Losing the bird hurt like a full-body super-powered bra-snap and left a lasting sting, but when she shifted back to human form, she retained all her body parts, and arguably, her sanity.
One needs to have a mind in order to lose it. A memory of her brother’s teasing flittered through her head.
Bear hadn’t harmed any more birds since that day, and she had no explanation for the recent decrease in her congress. The birds were a manifestation of her Other nature, so obviously over the last year her power had dwindled, but why? And although losing ravens might not have any lasting physical or mental impacts on her human form, if she kept losing birds until none remained, would she retain the ability to shift at all? Did her power have a critical mass requirement or threshold? Would she start to lose body parts and her mind if her conspiracy dropped below a certain number? If she only had one bird left and someone or something killed it, would she die without another bird to transfer her mind to?
An offshore breeze gusted down the inlet. The air pushed against the strong wing spans of her birds. A group of ravens formed a conspiracy, congress or unkindness, not a flock, technically, but people rarely used the correct term these days, and she’d given up correcting her family long ago.
Oooooh. Shiny.
One of her birds swooped down and plucked something from the water’s surface. The bird crushed and palpitated the food in its bill. The cold texture of dead fish meat crashed through the hive mind. The salty taste coated her senses. Metal. Toxins. Bad. The bird spat out the food. What remained of the fish hit the surface of the murky water below with a plop.
A dark cloud moved in front of the large moon and cast the murky waters of Burrard Inlet in darkness. A perfect response to her thoughts. Wolves howled in the forests north of the city. Real wolves rarely travelled this far South. With the full moon, though, werewolves roamed the wooded areas. Witches worked dark spells with their covens, and supernatural creatures in general let the lunar energy soak into their essence.
Tonight was a night for the powerful and wicked. A night the Others would dance, celebrate, and revel in the waves of energy as the bands flowed along, perfect for tethering and manipulating.
Raven should be in bed.
She had none of those skills. She could split her essence into an unkindness of ravens. A neat parlour trick and handy for searches, her power still paled in comparison to the rest of the supernatural community.
Last time she checked, though, she hadn’t angered or crossed anyone important, so she should be left alone. No, if anyone pissed off the powerful, it would be Bear. And she was flying straight to his den to find him.
Chapter Six
“If you wallow with the pigs, expect to get dirty.”
~Pretty much every father everywhere
The inside of the sweatshirt chaffed Raven’s bare skin. Too much time on the drying rack had left this old high school sweatshirt somehow starchy instead of soft and worn.
Bear always made sure to leave a spare set of clothes on his apartment building’s roof for her. The naked state might be natural but standing around in her birthday suit in front of her brother was awkward. For both of them.
She yanked on the sweatpants and folded the waistband over a few times. They still fell to the ground. Raven hoisted the pant legs up and padded across the roof to the fire escape. Despite the warmth of the summer’s day lingering well into the night, the metal bars remained cool to the touch. Mist crept down the North Vancouver mountains, cascading toward the twinkling city lights. Rain drizzled down and left Raven’s skin dewy. Typical Vancouver. It always rained. Dark and damp should be stamped on the city’s website. It constantly surprised her that she hadn’t started to mold yet.
After scaling down the fire escape ladder, Raven stepped onto the second-floor balcony of her brother’s place. She rapped her knuckles on the sliding glass door and waited.
The rain fell heavier, pattering against the balcony’s smooth surface, soaking through the crappy sweat suit and running down her clammy skin.
She knocked again.
Nothing.
Her heartbeat picked up. While Bear tended to ignore his phone and the front door buzzer, he never ignored her on the balcony. They had a silent pact. Raven never showed up like this unless she really needed him. Last time she’d arrived à la balcony, she interrupted her brother and his latest conquest. Bear hadn’t hesitated, kicking the dagger-glaring redhead to the curb to let his bedraggled and distraught sister clamber into his home like some desperate rat on a sinking ship.
Twins before wins, he always said. His equivalent of “bros before hoes.” He probably still wished sometimes she’d been born a boy. He spent a lot of their childhood lamenting her girliness.
“Answer, Bear,” she hissed.
Still nothing.
She leaned back and peered over the balcony. She’d already circled the building to ensure nobody lurked around, but a second look never hurt.
No one.
Well, almost no one.
Two large ravens perched one level down on the railing of the balcony of the apartment across the street. Their beady eyes tracked her movement.
“Don’t judge me,” she hissed.
They croaked and launched from the railing. A flutter of wings broke the silence of the night. The birds flapped their wings with strong powerful strokes to carry them into the inky darkness of the night.
The watchful presence of corvids might creep out the average person, but Raven wasn’t average. She’d grown up with birds her entire life. Her dark energy somehow drew ravens and crows to her, more so if her brother was around.
Raven crouched by the flower pots and dug into the damp soil of the nearest one. The petals of this particular plant had turned brown and hard, drooping to the ground. How did Bear keep this thing from disintegrating? It had appeared dead for years.
Her fingers struck metal and she pulled out the key for the sliding door. Taking a deep breath, Raven unlocked her brother’s place and stepped inside.
Her brother arrived into this world seven minutes and thirteen seconds before her with a chip already etched into his shoulder. With an absentee biological father and a mother working through her own issues, he grew up hating the world, and everything and everyone in it…except Raven.
When they came into their power at puberty—Raven transforming into a conspiracy of ravens, and Bear calling the death birds to him—he suffered another blow to his ego, and another loss, another rejection. He’d always hoped to gain something valuable from having an Other as a father. And instead, he essentially became the bird equivalent of a dog whistle. His words, not hers. She’d love him even if all he could do was drool.
Raven never doubted her twin’s love for her. Ever. But without words, she knew he felt the divide in their powers sharply.
The cool night breeze followed her into Bear’s living room, displacing the stale taste in the air. Her heart skipped with each step. Normally, when Raven was in close proximity to her twin, their magic pinged off each other. She hadn’t sensed his presence out
side on the patio and gaining entry to his apartment didn’t change the growing sense of doom. The silence of Bear’s place, along with the stale air, confirmed what her heart already knew. Bear hadn’t been here for a while.
A tasteful two-bedroom apartment on the North Shore greeted her searching gaze. Sure, the area was run down, but what part of the former Metro Vancouver area wasn’t, aside from some areas in West Vancouver and Downtown? Bear’s tasteful furnishings and clean aesthetics confirmed he made more money taking the less than savoury jobs. He’d offered to help pay her debt once. She refused. Her own stupidity got her into her money problems, her grit and determination would dig her out.
Raven wandered around the living room. Her wet feet left tracks in the soft carpet. Bear might not be here, but hopefully a clue was. She glanced around his sparse decorations and show-home-esque décor and sighed. Bear never left anything out of place in his apartment. He had few truly personal belongings. On his bedside table, he had a picture of the two of them together, laughing their butts off at some lame joke Dad had told.
The summer after high school ended and before university began for Raven, her parents took the whole family—all four siblings—to Vancouver Island and they’d spent the day at Rathtrevor Beach without squabbling once. Raven and her twin had their whole adult lives ahead of them and hadn’t realized the harsh reality that awaited them. Mom had snapped the candid photo, and somehow captured the love between the twins. Raven kept a copy of the same picture in her apartment.
A sound came from Bear’s spare room. Raven froze. She strained to listen, letting the sounds from outside the apartment building fall away until only the living room buzzed around her.
There!
Like something sliding across a table.
She turned toward the room and tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind her ear. Tension clamped along her spine and her brain whirred with possibilities.
At least she’d left the sliding door open for a quick escape.
Thump, thump, thump.
Her heart beat so hard, it drowned out any other possible sounds. She pushed open the door. The hinges moved with a low, grinding creak.
Raven winced.
Nothing stirred in the room. No more sliding sounds. Not even her heart dared to thump. She shoved open the door the rest of the way.
A loud screech pierced the air. At the same time, a fluffy black object sprang from the top shelf of the nearby closet.
Raven squealed and leapt in the air. Her feet caught in the soggy ends of the sweatpants. She stumbled, and her back slapped the wall. Her heart hammered again and sweat broke out across her skin.
Kissa, her brother’s deranged cat, hissed at her. Back arched, fur puffed out. With one last threatening yowl, the cat streaked past and ran off into her brother’s living room.
Raven slumped against the wall. She took deep breaths until her heartrate slowed down. His cat. His stupid, moody cat, not some evil villain lurking in the shadows.
That thing had never liked her.
Well, good riddance.
Raven headed for the garbage next. The idea of scouring her brother’s trash turned her stomach, but the study of garbage, or “Garbology,” as Dad called it, was one of the best sources for information for a detective. Any half-decent private investigator slapped on latex gloves and went digging.
Bear’s garbage was empty. Either he was an excellent housekeeper, or he purposely emptied his trash and cleaned up before he left for a job. Bear kept things neat and tidy but not this tidy. He didn’t want any evidence left in his home.
Argh. What are you up to, Bear?
She puttered around her brother’s apartment looking for clues. No more signs of Kissa. The demented hell-beast probably slipped out the sliding door. She’d worry, except that nasty creature probably took down fully-grown, rabid coyotes for sport.
She popped her head outside but couldn’t spot Satan’s spawn. She re-hid the key and stepped back into her brother’s apartment. If she couldn’t find any clues in his home, then she’d have to expand her search. She closed and locked the sliding door from the inside.
The shadows in the room shifted position as the traffic passed the building on the street below. Her sweat suit had started to dry, but the damp material still stuck to her limbs. Raven sighed and plucked a few paper clips off Bear’s desk. She turned toward his front door and hesitated.
“Odin’s balls!” Just in case her brother’s beloved pet hid in the apartment, Raven scooped some food in an empty bowl. Not for the cat, but for Bear’s sake.
She wiped the cat crunchies from her hands on her sweatpants. The crumbs remained glued to the cloth like large gritty sand at the beach. She kept wiping, but the action only smeared the crumbs deeper into the material and stirred up the slightly fishy smell of the cat food. With a groan, she left her brother’s place through the front door. Thankfully, he’d installed one of those keypad locks. One push of a button and Raven secured her brother’s home without a key.
The damp cuffs on her pants slapped the floor. The hallway walls of the building reeked of stale popcorn, sweat and that disturbing old man odor she could always identify, yet, never accurately describe beyond “old man.” No matter how much fresh air she got afterward, the smells of this place gripped the inside of her nostrils for hours after visiting Bear.
Raven pulled up her sweatpants to prevent them from dragging as she walked. The carpet did little to dampen the sound of her bare feet padding toward the entrance. Fairly lean from shifting with a side of curves, Raven wasn’t heavy, but the echo of her footsteps made her sound like a cyclops thundering down a runway. The material had long been stomped down to a threadbare sheet of fabric with a worn, dirty trail leading down the middle. All this place needed was a flickering light at the end of the hallway.
Not trusting the elevator, and knowing Bear didn’t either, Raven hopped down the stairs. She stepped into the main entrance and peered into the night through the glass front door and windows.
Nothing. The glow of streetlights and the occasional car chugging down the street. Bear didn’t live in a rich neighbourhood. Hardly anyone in the Mortal Realm did anymore. The Others made sure of that. Desperate people did desperate things.
Raven turned her back to the front entrance and walked around the corner to the small nook housing the tenants’ mailboxes. Technically, even with permission from the owner, breaking into someone’s mailbox counted as an indictable offence in Canada, but Bear wouldn’t report her, and the police had bigger crimes to solve than a mailbox break-in. She pulled back the long sleeves of her sweatshirt and bent the paper clips into the shapes needed.
She paused, holding one of the warped clips a few inches from the lock.
At least she hoped Bear wouldn’t report her. Sometimes, she felt like she didn’t know her own twin anymore, and she was the closest person to him.
With a shrug of her shoulders, she turned her attention to picking the lock. Generally, Bear specialized in the unsavoury, less-than-legal PI jobs, not Raven. His ambivalence toward the law was one of the main reasons he no longer worked for the family business. Not only did he butt heads with Dad, but their dad didn’t approve of her twin’s methods or the jobs he picked up.
Raven’s heart ached. She didn’t like Bear distancing himself from the family. From her.
Click.
Raven’s lips twitched as she swung open the tiny mailbox door and pulled out the contents. Junk. Junk. Bill. Junk. Bill.
A black card fell from the stack of white envelopes and fluttered to the floor. She bent and picked the business card from the cold tile.
Huh. This looked interesting. A solid black card, front and back. The only writing was a large, stylized “O” in silvery font on one side. She flipped it back and forth, willing some invisible ink to activate. Nothing. She sniffed it. Regular card-stock paper. No trace scents from the handler. At least none that she could detect. She’d have to let Mike sniff it.
&nbs
p; Raven stuffed the card in her pocket and shut Bear’s mailbox.
Heavy footsteps thumped up the front steps outside. Someone fiddled with the lock. The tinkering didn’t sound like a drunk person fumbling to get their key in the door. It sounded like…
She stepped forward in time to see the front door swing open and reveal a dark figure crouched on the other side. Before she could hide or scream, or do something, anything, the shadows behind her flowed out, like a rising tide. Dark strands materialized and wrapped around her.
Raven gasped and lurched forward.
A large hand clamped around her mouth. The shadows pulled her back. Her body slammed into something hard. Someone. The shadows materialized into strong arms, holding her in place.
“Shhhh, Einin,” a deep rumbling voice tickled her ear.
The manly scent of a magical forest at dusk caressed her senses. Cole. She lurched forward again. Or at least tried. His arms tightened around her stomach and held her in place. Her scalp tingled. Again. Banshee’s tits. Her hair must respond to potent dark energy somehow.
The crouched figure from the main entrance stood, tall and looming, before walking into her brother’s building. With the hood of his dark blue sweater pulled up and his head down, Raven couldn’t make out his face. If Cole was behind her, who was the intruder?
The man lifted his chin and pulled back his hood. From across the entranceway, his familiar features rang all sorts of warning bells.
Luke Bane.
Chapter Seven
Conspiracy of Ravens (Crawford Investigations Book 1) Page 4