“Of course not.” He leaned in. “But this is more fun.”
She snarled at him.
Mike continued to chatter. “Gekkering” was commonly used among adult fox in aggressive encounters. He was definitely not happy, but as broken and small as he was in fox form, it just came across as cute. Raven knew better than to tell him so. She hugged Mike’s fuzzy body closer instead and used the time to regain enough composure to look Cole in the eye. She could still taste him.
He chuckled. “So, Miss Private Investigator. What’s our next step?”
“I’m taking my brother to the hospital.” She’d have to get him clothes first without their parents knowing, but that reply lacked the snippiness she wanted.
He grunted. “After that.”
She clutched Mike to her chest with one arm and dug out the card she’d retrieved from Bear’s mailbox. “We find out who this card belongs to.”
Cole stiffened. “There’s no need.”
“Why?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. His ominous tone meant she wouldn’t like the answer.
“It’s the calling card of Odin.”
Chapter Ten
“When you’re young, you think your dad is Superman. Then you grow up and realize he’s just a regular guy who wears a cape.”
~Dave Attell
Mom and Dad’s house was sandwiched between two bordellos of crazy. An Other-hating crone lived on one side in the house with the deceptively nice looking garden, and a—
Raven flung out her hand and slapped her palm against Cole’s chest.
Odin’s balls, he was solid muscle.
Cole stopped and frowned.
She pushed him to the side of the house and into the shadows a second before a man walked out onto his patio on the house neighbouring her parents’ place.
“Who’s that?” Cole whispered.
“We call him Tarzan,” she whispered back. “He has an aversion to clothes.”
Cole grunted.
Tarzan stretched, raising his arms into the air and pushing his bare chest out. His golden skin glowed in the moonlight.
When the Crawfords first learned of his nightly naked jaunts to the balcony, they figured he went shirtless because of the summer heat. Nope. This was an all year performance.
Tarzan sighed and shuffled back into his house, pulling the sliding door closed behind him. Raven didn’t hate Tarzan like she despised Mrs. Humphreys, but he’d still call the cops if he spotted them lurking around the side of her parents’ house, and the authorities detaining her and asking questions right now was a complication she didn’t need.
“Come on.” She motioned Cole forward and they rounded the side of the house to the backyard.
Raven hoisted Mike on her hip and eyed the second-floor window. Suddenly, her plan to break into her parents’ home at night undetected didn’t seem so great.
“Why don’t you just go in the normal way? Your parents are going to find out about your brother’s accident either way.” Cole’s dark brows furrowed. “He lives with them.”
Mike snarled in her arms.
“Are you kidding me?” she hissed. “Have you met our mother?”
“Obviously not.”
“Obviously not.” She shoved Mike into his chest and gave the Lord of Shadows the option of either holding Mike or allowing the injured fox to fall to the ground.
Cole wrapped his arms protectively around her brother and glared at her. “This is ridiculous.” He stage whispered over Mike’s matted fur, “You’re both adults.”
“Well, neither of us are particularly good at adulting.” Raven retied her long sticky hair into a topknot and flexed her fingers. “The formidable Elizabeth Crawford is easier to face when we show her a productive solution instead of the problem in the middle of its hot mess stage. Ever heard of the expression, ‘it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission’? That’s pretty much the Crawford kids’ motto.”
“Productive solution?”
“Taking care of Mike’s injury without asking for parental assistance.”
Cole eyed the second-floor window. “I could go for you.”
“Absolutely not.” It was one thing to break into her own parents’ house, but an entirely different thing to stand by and send a stranger to do it. Besides, Cole might not survive the state of Mike’s room if unprepared, and they didn’t have time to give him a crash course.
Despite explaining her rationale on the way over, Cole offered to go in her place. Repeatedly. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think the Great Lord of All was worried about her proposed B&E. He didn’t know how often she used to sneak in and out of this house with Bear. In any other circumstance, she’d tease him about his concern, but her mind still reeled from his kiss. She wanted to avoid any interaction with the fae lord until she could forget the taste and feel of him.
“Besides,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be setting up a meeting with Odin for us? You can’t do that if you’re breaking into my parents’ house.”
They blinked at one another. A loud bleat fractured the silence of the backyard. Raven jumped. Cole spun around. A black and white goat stood a few feet away, stared at them and chewed something in its mouth.
“Mike?” Raven whispered into her brother’s fur. “Do I want to know why there’s a goat in our parents’ yard?”
Mike whined.
So, the answer was probably not. She turned back toward the tree.
“I can’t exactly text the Allfather and arrange a coffee date.” Cole continued the conversation as if a random goat hadn’t interrupted them, moments ago. Points to him. “There’s a process for requesting an audience. It takes time and finesse.”
Raven gripped the bark and thumped around with her feet for the familiar footholds. “Shouldn’t you be finessing, then?”
“I’d rather be accompanying you right now.” He paused.
She glanced over her shoulder to find him frowning at the tree.
“Couldn’t you just lend him some of your clothes?” he asked.
Mike growled again.
“Just shut up and hold my brother.” Without waiting for a response, Raven hauled her tired body up the tree and scaled the large branch reaching out to Mike’s second-story window. Her hands clutched the rough bark and her arm muscles screamed in protest. Despite wearing jeans, the knots dug into the tender flesh of her inner thighs when she used her legs to clamp around the tree to anchor herself. Her tight jeans made it a little more difficult than she remembered. The summer night grew cooler and the cold air scorched her lungs. Her throat burned by the time she scooched down the thick tree limb extending to Mike’s bedroom window. With a well-practiced finesse, she shimmied the window open.
Sure, she could’ve lent Mike some clothes. As someone with many siblings capable of shifting, she had plenty of extras lying around her own place, but Mike would want his own. The break was bad, and his body was going into shock. Having something of his own would help with the painful and upsetting transition back to his human form.
Cole grunted.
Something thudded.
Mike yipped.
Halfway into Mike’s dark room, Raven spun to look down. The leaves and branches rustled, allowing only a small glimpse of the shadowed figures below under the moonlight.
“What’s going on?” she hissed.
“Nothing,” Cole said.
She waited, but no further explanation came. Whatever. She’d find out when she returned with Mike’s clothes. She slipped into the darkness of her youngest brother’s room. Various objects loomed before her, illuminated by the night sky and the lone streetlight outside. The air skimmed by her, fleeing the pungent mix of body odour, stale pizza and empty pop cans.
Most people were surprised to learn natural foxes gave skunks a run for their funk. Not only did they secrete a pungent oil from their sweat glands, but they used the smell as vile cologne to distinguish themselves from others, convey their status and mark their territory.
Fox shifters weren’t quite as bad in the odour department because they had their human nature to override the baser instincts of the fox, but some shifters, adolescent males, especially, struggled to keep the stink contained.
Mom and Dad gave up trying to get Mike to keep his room clean long ago. For much of the same reason their parents left Raven to flounder and find her financial feet, the Crawford’s believed in “hands off” parenting and let Mike wallow in his own filth. They hoped he’d grow from his mistakes given time.
Honestly, they were probably happy as long as he showered, and the stink didn’t leave the room with him. And at least he didn’t urinate in the house to mark his territory.
Now, where in this jumbled mess would she find his clothes? The low hum of his computers answered her. He never turned them off. A dresser sat on the opposite end of the room, with its drawers open and random clothes hanging out.
For someone with such a sharp mind, Mike sure was a slob.
She tiptoed over to the dresser. Her foot caught on something and she flailed forward.
“Oomph.” She caught herself on the edge of the desk, forehead inches away from one of his many beloved computer screens. She pushed away from the desk and straightened. She didn’t have time to rummage through a garbage heap or flirt with dark fae lords. Maybe she should’ve faced the wrath of her mother and gone through the front door instead.
An image of her mom’s rage-filled gaze pierced her memory.
Maybe not.
She plucked the first T-shirt and pair of sweatpants she found. She learned long ago never to rifle through a brother’s room. Disgusting beasts.
She turned toward the open window. The bedroom door flew open behind her, and the light flicked on.
Raven froze, arms out to each side clutching Mike’s clothes.
“Rayray?” Juni’s voice sang. “What are you doing?”
Raven spun to face her fifteen-year-old sister. Clad in unicorn pajamas, the teenager’s tightly coiled red curls sat wildly around her head, held back with a purple headband.
“Shhhh!” Raven waved her hands. “Keep it down.”
“Mom and Dad are still out for their date night.” Juni folded her arms. “What do you need? Practice was intense and I want to sleep.”
Raven straightened. “You made the volleyball team?”
“Yup.” Juni cracked a smile. “And a herd of elephants trampling through the house couldn’t have woken me. Which is what you sound like, by the way. Only louder. Don’t try to make a living from B&Es.”
Raven rolled her eyes. Fox shifters. So prickly.
“You must be really busy. I posted like a zillion photos,” Juni added.
Her youngest sister, the baby of the family, had just turned fifteen and started Grade 10 a couple of weeks ago. She’d agonized all summer about volleyball tryouts and worrying about what she’d do if she didn’t make the junior volleyball team.
“Are you still doing that puckered lip thing? Duckface? Trout pout? Whatever it is you kids call it today,” Raven asked.
“Maybe.” Juni lifted her chin.
“That’s why I don’t check your profile. All your photos are part of your face, on an angle, with duck lips. Once I’ve seen one, I’ve seen them all.”
“You’re a terrible sister.”
“Am not.”
“So why are you breaking into our brother’s room, hmmm?”
Raven held up the clothes. “Can you keep a secret?”
Raven stepped away from the front door and made her way around the side of the house where she’d left Mike and Cole. The goat bleated a greeting and went back to munching grass.
As soon as she rounded the corner, Cole stepped from the shadows with Mike in his arms. “Everything okay?” he whispered. “We saw lights and heard voices.”
“Huh?” Raven turned from the mystery goat and turned to Cole and Mike. “Yeah. You can drop the whispers, I forgot tonight was date night. Juni busted me but promised to let us break the news to our mom and dad after we fix up Mike.”
“What did that cost you?”
“An outfit.” One of her only nice ones. “She’ll technically borrow it, but I’ll probably never see it again unless I want to scrap for it.”
“Interesting.” Cole hefted Mike in his arms. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie to reveal toned forearms as pale as his face. They stood out in the dark under the moonlight. A few angry red puncture marks marred the smooth skin.
“Is that a bite mark?”
Cole sighed. “Maybe.”
“From Mike?”
“Maybe.”
That explained the grunting and yipping from earlier. “Why did my brother bite you?”
“Apparently, I admired the view a little too much.”
“What view?” The tree? The house? “We’re in the middle of suburbia.” Did Tarzan come out to beat his bare chest at the moon again?
He gave her a pointed look.
Mike snarled.
Oh. That view. He must’ve checked out her ass when she climbed the tree. Her cheeks warmed. She shouldn’t like that. Nope. Most definitely shouldn’t feel all warm and fuzzy from the idea of the Lord of Shadows being attracted to her. She should slap him or something.
Her overactive imagination decided now would be a good idea to provide her with images and ideas of what something could entail.
Her face grew warmer.
Cole’s gaze darkened, and he leaned forward. “Red suits you.”
She spun away and stomped to the car with Mike’s clothes in her hand. “Shut up and hold my brother.”
Chapter Eleven
“Only time can heal your broken heart, just as time can heal his broken arms and legs.”
~Miss Piggy, Raven’s spirit animal
The emergency doors to the hospital opened, blasting Raven with cool air, slightly musty from the overworked and underserviced air conditioners, and heavy with disinfectant. The bright fluorescent lights beamed down and burned her eyes. Raven stepped from the summer night into the cool, bright hospital.
Mike shuddered in her arms. He’d pick up a lot more than cleaner and mould, especially in his fox form.
She’d traded Cole for her brother. The Lord of Shadows now held Mike’s clothes and eyed the building with unease.
“It’s so bright.” Cole clutched the outfit in one hand. Blood trickled from his bite mark and soaked into the soft material.
“Well, they need to see what they’re doing.”
They quickly checked in with reception and provided Mike’s health card to the registration clerk before heading to the triage nurse. A middle-aged woman in teal scrubs looked up from the desk as they approached. A halo of loose brown hair had escaped her tight ponytail and framed her face. Her name tag read, “Martin.” The nurse scanned Raven and Mike when they approached her desk. “Shifter?”
Raven sighed. Not because the nurse was wrong in her assessment, but because of her bone-weary voice and haunted eyes. Too many injured shifter cases had hit the ERs in the Lower Mainland lately. So many, the news actually felt compelled to run a piece on it, all of a minute and twenty seconds, but the existence of the report, not the length, said more than any of the words the reporter actually said. Someone or something was targeting the shifter community.
The nurse’s gaze cut to Cole and raked his body. Her tired, over-worked expression disappeared, and her eyebrows rose. She straightened her plump figure in her office chair. “And you, love? Are you in need of medical assistance?” Her voice somehow deepened to a more sultry tone.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You’re bleeding.”
“A scratch.”
“A bite from a ferocious beast, no doubt.” She pushed away from her desk and scurried around the counter. The security door flung open and she rushed to Cole’s side.
He frowned.
Raven eyed her torn up palms from her fall in the woods. She had more blood on her hands, li
terally not figuratively, than Cole. Would the nurse care about her wounds, too?
Nurse Martin tsked and held his arm gingerly in one hand while the other stroked the smooth skin around the wound. “We should get this treated immediately.”
Did the provincial health care system cover dark fae lords? They weren’t considered residents. Raven hefted the fox in her arms. “Um, my brother?”
Mike whined loudly. Whether he did so theatrically or for real, Raven appreciated the dramatic effect.
“Yes, Yes.” Martin waved Raven off. “Have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly to assess and triage accordingly.”
Cole pulled his arm back, but the nurse had latched on.
Nurse Martin turned her wide doe-like eyes up to him. “You, my dear, you come with me.”
“There’s no need.” He shifted his weight. His gaze cut to the exit.
One of the nurses called out. “Mary, are you—”
“I’m taking care of this!” Mary screeched. “Cover me.”
Cole’s gaze darkened. His jaw clenched. The shadows pooled in the room, spreading outward from the corners.
“Cole,” Raven warned.
He sneered.
“Don’t.”
Cole glanced at Raven. His gaze softened. His expression relaxed. “Fine.”
The nurse pushed a scowling Cole toward the admittance doors without inquiring about his medical card or following proper registration procedure. Raven lifted a hand and finger waved. She found something oddly satisfying with watching a swooning, five-foot-nothing, middle-aged nurse manhandle the mighty Lord of Darkness into submission.
Raven and Mike sat like two lumps of useless clay. With each loud tick of the second hand on the generic, antiquated clock on the stark waiting room wall, Raven became more and more livid. Her hands shook. At this rate, they’d be here until the morning and well past the critical healing point for shifters. The gunk coating her hair from her brother’s building had ripened, and every few minutes she got a waft of the funk. She smelled like the dumpster outside Dan’s Diner. The busy waiting room held at least ten other patients and their friends and family. Accidents rarely waited for a convenient moment and school nights were no exception. A gentle din of conversation settled over the drafty room, punctuated with sirens and gusts of night air rushing in from the automated emergency doors.
Conspiracy of Ravens (Crawford Investigations Book 1) Page 7