Table of Contents
The Call of Corvids (Raven Crawford, #4)
Praise for novels of J. C. McKenzie
Books by J. C. McKenzie
THE CALL OF CORVIDS
J. C. McKENZIE | COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
GLOSSARY Of TERMS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
About the Author
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Further Reading: Conspiracy of Ravens
Also By J. C. McKenzie
The lighting in the room dimmed and the room cooled down. Bear lowered his arm. In front of him, in a glow of dazzling light, like a phoenix rising from its ashes, a woman dressed in ordinary jeans and a tank top stood with her hands on her hips and her feet shoulder width apart. The light highlighted her high cheekbones, smooth dark skin and shining platinum hair. Black eyes of the Underworld, eyes like his, studied him and her full red lips curled up with amusement. She was by far the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
His twin sister, Raven, had once told him his exterior was far prettier than who he was inside. She didn’t normally talk to him like that, but she’d been especially pissed off at him for something. He couldn’t remember what he’d done that particular time, but he deserved it. He always did. And despite her words being spoken in anger, she wasn’t wrong.
Bear never lacked female attention. Women enjoyed his company and he enjoyed theirs. He put minimal, if any, effort into seducing a woman. He didn’t need to. That wasn’t arrogance, but experience. He never had to work for anything. He certainly didn’t have to beg.
One mere second in this woman’s company, and he wanted to crawl on the floor and grovel before her.
And that was all kinds of wrong.
Bjorn motherfucking Crawford did not beg.
“Who...who the fuck are you?” He pointed at her. “And get off my coffee table.”
Praise for novels of J. C. McKenzie
Shift Happens
“SHIFT HAPPENS has excitement, intrigue and lots of danger. I love the whole cast of characters and how they played a part in the story” –Fresh Fiction
Beast Coast
“I loved this book as much as the first. There are secrets, surprises, and all manner of supernaturals.” –Paranormal Romance Guild
Carpe Demon
“The story keeps the adrenaline pumping and spine tingling tension building throughout the story with well written scenes full of vivid details that capture the imagination and make it easy for the reader to become engrossed...” –Literary Addicts Book Community
Shift Work
“It’s a terrific series and if you like supernatural reads, with a side of romance, the sort with solid and intense plots, gripping and very real dangers, hard choices, supernatural people some of whom can be selfish, cruel and bloodthirsty...You’ll be hooked.” –Jeannie Zelos Book Reviews
Beast of All
“This time out, J. C. McKenzie has outdone herself with high-velocity action, soul deep emotions and one of those finishes that you want to replay over and over!” –Tome Tender
Conspiracy of Ravens
“Raven is my kind of people. Half hot-mess, half bad-ass, all awesome... the story was had plenty of humor, action and mystery rolled up in a nice paced story.” –Urban Fantasy Investigations
Nevermore
“The dramas, dangers, intrigue, and tension of NEVERMORE will have you glued to the pages, and when it is finished, Ms. McKenzie will have left you satisfied yet wanting more.” –Fresh Fiction
The Night House
“From the very first page till the very end I was hooked on this book and read it in less than one day...it had everything you could want from a story romance, secrets, lies, suspense, surprises and more.” –Linda Tonis, Paranormal Romance Guild
Dangerous Dreams
“This new world promises to be an adventurous one full of snark, passion, thrills, romance, danger and wonderful characters and I can’t wait to read the next one.” –Stormy Vixen Reviews
Dangerous Liaisons
“Loved this story and loved Raf and strong, stubborn Lara and I can’t overlook Lara’s dragon who brought humor to this story.” –Paranormal Romance Guild
The Good Griffin
“THE GOOD GRIFFIN is as addictive as a double shot of espresso, only without any of the withdrawal symptoms.” –N. N. Light
Books by J. C. McKenzie
Conspiracy of Ravens
Nevermore
Queen of Corvids
The Call of Corvids
Shift Happens
Beast Coast
Carpe Demon
Shift Work
Beast of All
Dangerous Dreams
Dangerous Liaisons
Dangerous Decisions
The Good Griffin
The Shucker’s Booktique (out of print)
Be My Love (out of print)
THE CALL OF CORVIDS
A RAVEN CRAWFORD SIBLING STORY,
BOOK ONE
J. C. McKENZIE
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Call of Corvids
COPYRIGHT © 2020 by J. C. McKenzie
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art: Eerilyfair Design
Raven artwork: Yauheniya Piatrouskaya
Raven in nest artwork: Chad Keith
Publishing History:
First JCM Publications Edition, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9992394-6-6 (print)
ISBN: 978-1-9992394-7-3 (ebook)
To Mirren Hogan,
The house may be gone, but the home is in the heart.
I’m wishing you the strength to rebuild.
Chapter One
“There are a lot of mysterious things about boats, such as why anyone would get on one voluntarily.”
~ P. J. O'Rourke
Bear Crawford tucked his chin and pumped his arms. Stretching out his legs, he quickened his pace. Faster. He needed to run faster. His footsteps echoed down the dark alley while the spring moon laughed at him.
The guards grunted somewhere farther down the alley. He didn’t dare look.
Adrenaline raced through Bear’s veins and his heart punched against his breastbone. He clutched the stolen book in one hand and kept running. His leather jacket squeaked with each stride.
Almost there. The intensifying smell of ocean cheered him on.
A raven swooped down from her perch on the building’s ledge and hovered beside him. Her energy pinged against his. Though most birds couldn’t communicate more than a word or two, they often shared images and feelings with him. This one sent visions of birds playing in the air flows. Tasha
. Though she looked no different than any other female raven, he’d know this bird and her mischievous energy anywhere. She followed him like a shadow.
Not now, he told her. Not ever. He didn’t have that kind of talent, but she didn’t understand that. She kept sensing his corvid energy and assumed he could shift into a bird.
The sleek raven clicked at him before flapping her wings and taking off into the night. If only he could join her. Instead, he rounded the corner and pushed his body harder. Where had these guards come from? He’d scouted the location for weeks and studied the schematics of the building until his eyes crossed. He must’ve tripped some sort of silent alarm—one installed after the company updated the latest security plan on their internal website.
Bear gnashed his teeth. The black material covering his face scratched his skin. He wanted to tear it off and feel the fresh air, but he couldn’t risk it. Of course, if he had his sister’s power, he’d already be free.
Bear grimaced. It wasn’t Raven’s fault she inherited more magic from their absentee biological father. Just as it wasn’t her fault Bear hadn’t been around much lately. But now was not the time to dwell or drown in guilt.
The thundering footsteps behind him drifted farther away. He created more distance between himself and his pursuers. That expensive gym membership finally paid off.
One more turn.
Bear rounded the last corner toward the docks.
He almost skidded to a halt. One of the guards waited for him, red-faced and panting by the entrance of the docks. The guard spotted him and braced in a ready position more commonly seen on rugby players than security for hire. How in the Underworld did he get here first?
Bear growled and charged ahead. Rugby happened to be one of Bear’s favourite sports.
The guard—Red, for the face—narrowed his eyes and lunged at him.
Bear sidestepped and flung out his hand—straight-arming Red. The guard’s heavy body slammed against Bear’s hand, but he locked his elbow and held Red off. He cradled the stolen book under his other arm like a rugby ball.
The guard swiped and grabbed at empty air, unable to get a grip on Bear’s clothes or bring him down. The guard lunged forward, throwing his considerable weight at Bear.
With sheer determination and muscle memory, Bear danced out of Red’s reach. He gripped the stolen property. Good. He still had possession.
Red grunted and fell face-first into the pavement behind him. His body smacked the ground with a loud thud. Without breaking stride, Bear ran down the ramp to the docks.
Loosely tethered to the end was a cheap tin boat he’d purchased as a backup plan. Good thing, too, or he’d be dead.
Footsteps pounded behind him.
He wasn’t free yet.
With a flying leap, Bear jumped in the boat, pulled the rope and let the natural momentum push the vessel from the dock. He straightened to smugly smile at the guards, and—
Fuck!
One of the guards jumped from the dock, aiming his body straight at Bear’s. He barrelled into Bear, and they crashed into the boat.
Oomph.
Bear’s head smacked the side of the vessel. His ears rang. Before he could right himself, a fist smashed into his side.
Bear grunted and tensed his ab muscles to brace for the next fist. And the next. He needed to move, not get pummeled by some random guard. With a deep breath, he dropped the artifact, pushed off the bottom of the boat and jabbed out with his fist. His knuckles slammed into the guard’s neck.
The guard gurgled and reeled back, stumbling with the movement of the unsteady boat. Salt spray sloshed over the metal side. The vessel had drifted farther from the docks. Hopefully, far enough to discourage any other guards from joining them.
Bear got to his feet, the boat swaying back and forth even more. If they weren’t careful, the vessel would capsize. Even if Bear survived the frigid and gelatinous waters, poisoned from years of turmoil between regs and fae, the stolen book and his source of income wouldn’t.
The guard scrambled to regain his footing. He squared off with a snarl, telegraphing his intent. His weight shifted to his toes. The guard was getting desperate, he’d put everything into his next move.
Bear wasn’t a lethal fae warrior, but he benefitted from the corvid essence running through his veins. Like the birds he could communicate with, he read people very well.
The guard lunged forward.
Bear stomped down with his right foot with all his weight.
The boat rocked to the side and the guard stumbled.
Now was his chance. Bear struck out with his fist, contacting the man’s face. The momentum, with the boat listing, sent the guard tumbling over the side. His body smacked the surface of the ocean and salt water sprayed Bear’s body and face mask.
Bear panted, wanting nothing more than to sit down and catch his breath, but he was too close to shore and a dock full of angry guards.
He reached down, and gripped the cord for the engine. The guard in the water gurgled and latched onto the side of the boat. The vessel listed. Bear stumbled. The congealed depths of murky ocean loomed.
Bear kicked out, stomping on the guard’s fingers, crushing them and righting himself. Nope. He wouldn’t be falling over the side and joining the guard for a sludgy ocean bubble bath tonight.
The man screamed and fell back into the water with a splash. A plume of foul ocean air hit Bear’s face and he shuddered. If the guard focused on swimming back to the dock, he’d survive. Hopefully, he chose life over making Bear’s job more difficult.
Bear pulled the cord and the engine sputtered to life. The oddly comforting smell of gasoline pumped into the air.
The guards left behind on the dock shouted obscenities about Bear’s mother, while their comrade flailed in the water a few feet away and tried to shoot Bear down with a death stare. Neither of these things prevented Bear from slipping into the night in a cheap tin can of a boat.
He’d been lucky. If any of those guards had been armed...If any of them had been fae...
Bear shook his head. He didn’t get paid to complete easy jobs.
Tasha swooped down from the night sky and perched on the bow.
“Hey, girl.”
She cocked her head at him and clicked.
After he was far enough away from security cameras and prying eyes, he pulled the balaclava from his head. His black hair stood straight up and sweat had dried to his face. The cool wind flowing over the still waters of Burrard inlet rushed by, a refreshing reminder that he’d survived another job.
And he was one step closer to his goal.
Chapter Two
“People who enjoy meetings should not be in charge of anything.”
~ Thomas Sowell
Born as Bjorn Crawford, Bear never lived up to the fancy name his mom carefully selected for him, but he found success in other things. Mainly stealing stuff and living a life of crime. That hadn’t been his original goal, but after trying, and failing, to make a living the honest way, he focused on just making a living. Period.
Bear pulled up the collar of his leather jacket and hunched his shoulders against the bitter breeze. Shockingly cold for a late spring night, the air drifting off the ocean surface had been refreshing at first but had since turned frigid and bone-numbing. Bear couldn’t wait to get home, crank the heat and cuddle with his cat. Instead, he stood in an empty parking lot on the North Shore waiting for the client to show up so he could hand over the “artifact” and collect payment.
Normally, Eli handled this crap.
Eli was his contact from the guild of thieves that resided in the Underworld—a dark fae-operated realm that used to be closed off from the Mortal Realm by a magical barrier. That barrier crashed down when a bunch of scientists fucked around with stuff they didn’t quite understand. A whole lot of invasions, servitude and death followed, but eventually things settled into an uneasy truce with everyone more or less staying on their respective sides and playing by the rules.
Mostly.
Now, magicless humans, known as regs, cohabitated the damaged Mortal Realm alongside supernatural beings native to Earth who, due to circumstances created by the barrier collapse, no longer hid their powers and abilities. Most regs desperately wished for things to return to “normal” and clung to a misplaced belief that restoring the barrier and ridding the world of fae would somehow magically make all their problems go away. It didn’t matter that the barrier collapse happened generations ago. It didn’t matter that extensive research and trials had failed to reconstruct anything remotely similar to the magical barrier. And it certainly didn’t matter that they had no personal experience with the dream they so fanatically craved.
Bear wasn’t holding out or wishing for a new shiny world. He certainly wasn’t waiting. What was the point? The faepocalypse happened before he was born and this was his reality. Life was too short. Things would never go back to “normal” and sitting around hoping wouldn’t change that. Regs and weak half-fae like himself needed to adapt to survive.
Though Bear knew working with and for the fae held more of a future than sticking his head in the sand like a delusional ostrich, a healthy dose of caution for the fatherland and fae kept him honest and kept him alive. He didn’t venture into the Other Realms often. He avoided them. Mom’s constant nagging and excessive warnings throughout his childhood made up the structural fibre of his very being. Besides, he didn’t like the feeling of potent magic against his small stash of power. Vulnerability and weakness weren’t his jam. He rarely placed himself in a position where he was out of his element.
Luckily, Eli travelled back and forth and maintained an outpost for contracts in the Mortal Realm. Fat lot of good it did Bear right now, though. Apparently, the client wanted a direct handover, which always carried more risk. Eli hadn’t sounded pleased with the stipulation, either, but Bear couldn’t tell whether Eli was insulted at the implication he was untrustworthy, or pissed off at the loss of half his handler fee.
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