The Call of Corvids

by J. C. McKenzie

  Lloth snorted. She pointed at the runes drawn on the wall. “She couldn’t leave when she’s bound to you.”

  Bear groaned. He was an idiot. In the middle of fighting for his life, he’d forgotten about the runes locking Chloe in the apartment.

  “She could’ve broken the spell quite easily, of course,” Lloth continued. “I find it interesting that she didn’t.”

  Bear’s heart sank. He didn’t need help filling in the blanks. He knew he couldn’t trust the fae, even if he was half fae himself. He scowled and turned to Chloe. “So, that’s why you were so drawn to me, huh?”

  Anger flashed across Chloe’s face. Not quite the emotion he’d expected.

  Lloth laughed and stepped forward. He struggled against the other men’s holds, but they forced him onto his knees as the queen approached.

  “You are pretty.” She reached out, cupped his chin and forced his face up. “Pretty stupid.”

  Huh?

  “She didn’t need to seduce her way out of the spell created by the runes. She couldn’t. To release herself, all she had to do was kill you.”

  Shock spread through his body so fast he froze. What?

  “And despite your impressive combat skills, mortal, the Claíomh Solais, the White Glaive of Light, the bastard daughter of Erebus, God of Darkness, has a few generations of practice on you.”

  He gaped at Chloe. She could’ve killed him at any time. Unease clamped his spine. Chloe could’ve killed him twenty minutes ago when he fell asleep on the couch.

  Lloth’s smile was wicked and cruel. “She could’ve escaped at any time.”

  Chloe’s angry gaze burned the side of his face. She’d spared him instead of escaping. Maybe her attraction to him wasn’t a lie after all. But that meant...

  He shook his head. No. He wasn’t the kind of person to swoon over a beautiful woman. There had to be more going on here.

  “She found you special.” Lloth leaned down and stroked his face with her free hand. “And I think I know why.”

  Bear used to want to be special. He wanted to stand out. Impress. Be that guy other men wanted to be and the women wanted to fuck.

  Not anymore.

  Any remaining ambition to be stand out from the crowd fled from the gleam in Lloth’s gaze.

  And his change of heart wouldn’t matter. He could protest and deny and nothing would spare him from this moment. This fate.

  She’d take him anyway.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.”

  ~ Dolly Parton

  The large warriors threw Bear into a prison cell. With a black bag over his head, he couldn’t see anything to confirm his suspicions, but the air smelled stale, the ground was hard and there was a lot of metal clanking before he flew through the air. His body smacked the floor, then his head, with a loud crack. Pain flared behind his eyes and a sharp ache throbbed along the side of his body.

  The impact with the hard concrete floor knocked the wind out of him. With his hands bound, he couldn’t break his fall. One moment he was jostled down some steps, then with the creak of metal hinges as his only warning, Bear became weightless, to flop in the air like a fish hauled out of water.

  Now firmly pressed against cold concrete or tile, Bear lay motionless, sucking in air and trying to get his breath back.

  Someone roughly rolled him over and fiddled with his shackles. Bound, gagged and sort-of blindfolded, things weren’t looking good for Bear.

  The memory of the psychotic sparkle in Lloth’s gaze did nothing to reassure him of his future prospects.

  Something landed beside him with a loud thump. Chloe groaned.

  Assholes.

  They didn’t need to handle her so roughly.

  Anger rose inside him, his power welled.

  Metal clanked as they likely shackled Chloe to the floor as they had with him.

  One of the warriors ripped the black hood from Bear’s head. He blinked repeatedly until his vision adjusted to the change in lighting. Low burning lanterns, flickering firelight in a dark room confirmed his thoughts. Yup. A jail cell. But not a dingy one, at least.

  As far as dungeons went, Bear had little experience to draw on, but this barren dry space didn’t fit the picture he had in his mind. The dusty floors and windowless rooms didn’t make for a comfortable stay, sure, but there weren’t skeletal husks of former prisoners, rats, or random dripping sounds either.

  The warrior who’d almost gutted him earlier leaned down with a cruel smile. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You won’t be here long.”

  Bear swallowed. Things were definitely not looking good for him. He should’ve told that dark fae client to fuck off right from the start. He would still be completing more jobs for the guild, blissfully unaware of the details of Lloth’s dungeon.

  He hesitated and looked over at Chloe. She’d straightened to a sitting position and glared at the warrior.

  Unease gnawed at his gut.

  If he hadn’t taken this job, he wouldn’t have met Chloe. Someone else would’ve stolen the Claíomh Solais. They probably would’ve listened to the orders, too, and not opened the box. They would’ve handed it over without realizing what it contained. There was the rub.

  His gut twisted more. Stomach acid bubbled up his throat. This wasn’t the first time he’d had this thought. He wouldn’t wish that fate for Chloe, even if it meant this fate for him.

  He glanced over at her again and the weird collar they’d clamped around her neck leaked with dark magic.

  The warrior backed away and the other guards parted to let Lloth enter the jail cell. The long skirt of her dress whispered against the stones. The crazy gleam in her gaze was still there.

  “What my caomhnóir means to say is that you won’t be here long because you’ll soon be mine.”

  Well, that wasn’t happening.

  Lloth stepped closer and laughed. “Oh, you might feel defiant now, but I can be very convincing.”

  Chloe sucked in a breath. “Lloth, no. I’ll do what you want. Take me but leave him out of this.”

  Warmth spread through his chest and then panic stabbed him. Lloth couldn’t have Chloe. No one could. She was...his?

  He shook his head. No. That wasn’t right.

  Chloe belonged to herself. But he wanted her to be his.

  The realization hit him harder than any of Lloth’s soldiers and air rushed from his lungs all over again.

  The Corvid Queen turned her attention to Chloe. “And why would I do that, when I can have you both?”

  “He’s just a thief,” Chloe said.

  Ouch. That hurt. She wasn’t wrong, but Bear thought...Bear hoped... Argh. Bear was a dumbass. And it didn’t matter what he thought.

  Lloth chuckled and her lips curled into another smile. “Oh, I think we both know he’s so much more than that.”

  Chloe’s head snapped back as if Lloth’s words physically slapped her.

  “I’ve changed my mind.” Lloth straightened and jerked her chin in Bear’s direction. “I’m not waiting for tomorrow. Bring him now.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “To the person who has my voodoo doll: please give it a rest.”

  ~ Bear Crawford

  Bear’s back slammed onto a cold metal table. Lanterns flickered their golden light against the stone walls but offered little in the way of warmth.

  The warrior, the one she called her keev-noy-er or whatever, leaned over the table, gripped Bear’s shirt and tore it free from his body. The material cut into his skin as the man yanked it away.

  “You’re not my type,” Bear said.

  The warrior dropped the remains of Bear’s shirt on the floor and punched him in the face.

  Bear’s head snapped back and slammed into the table. His ears rung. The keev-noy-er hadn’t hit him full force—he’d be knocked out cold if he had—but it still hurt.

  Bear shut his mouth, probably what the keev-noy-er wanted.<
br />
  Lloth flowed into the small room like smoke on a dance floor, and probably just as toxic. She stepped up to Bear’s other side, across from the warrior. “We need him healthy.”

  “You need him alive,” the warrior grumbled.

  Lloth chuckled, but her expression turned serious the moment her attention refocused on Bear. “Take them out.”

  “What?”

  “You have some awful contraption covering your eyes. Take them out.”

  His brain scrambled to make sense of her demand. “My...contacts?”

  She waved her hand in the air as if terminology was of no importance. “Yes, those. Why do you wear them? Fae don’t suffer vision impairment.”

  “I’m only half fae.”

  She snorted as if that didn’t make a difference and he had the sudden urge to yell at her. He didn’t wear the contacts to correct his vision. He wore them to hide. Lloth had no idea what it was like to lie about who she was. Her dismissiveness grated his nerves.

  Bear nearly choked on his conflicting feelings when he was younger—confused whether to feel shame for being something others considered disgusting, weak for feeling the all-to-real fear of what regs would do if they discovered what he was, or guilt for hiding instead of proudly announcing his ancestry. Sometimes, like right now, he felt like a fraud—claiming a heritage he didn’t fully understand and certainly didn’t have the power to back it up.

  “Why?” Lloth pushed.

  “To hide my eyes from regs,” he said. Black eyes easily identified him as dark fae.

  Lloth frowned at him. “Why would you hide what you are from those pathetic fools? You are more than what any of them could ever be.”

  “Well, there’s more of them than me and they don’t exact harbour any warm fuzzy feelings for half-fae.” And a lack-lustre power-poor one at that. He would be vulnerable to any attack. Man, did she have the wrong guy.

  Lloth narrowed her eyes and leaned closer. “Either you take them out, or I will.” She waggled her fingers in the air, her long dark pointed nails glistening under the lantern light.

  Yeah, fuck that. He raised his shackled hands and shook them to rattle the chains. When they’d hauled him from the cell, they’d rebound his hands in front of his body instead of behind. While his shoulders enjoyed the relief, the whole being shackled thing was becoming old fast.

  Lloth jerked her chin at the keev-noy-er.

  “And something to wash my hands?” he asked.

  Lloth scowled at him. “Did my caomhnóir hit your head too hard? Did you wake up and suddenly think you were in a spa? We’re not here to serve you.”

  “My hands are dirty. I’ve listened to the women in my family nag me my whole life about eyes being the primary site of infections. I need to wash my hands before I touch my face.” He paused and shrugged. “Unless you want me to get sick?”

  Lloth’s gaze flashed. “Oh, yes. The Crawford women. We’ll talk about them soon enough. One in particular.”

  Bear snapped his mouth shut. Fuck.

  Lloth sighed and waved her hand in the air. The keev-noy-er grunted and stalked off, presumably to get Bear something to wash his hands with.

  “You won’t be smiling for long, Bjorn Crawford.”

  “What’s a keev-noy-er?” he asked, wanting to change the topic away from his impending torture.

  “A keev-noy-er?” Lloth’s mouth turned down.

  Bear nodded toward the door the warrior had left through.

  Lloth followed his gaze and her face relaxed. “A caomhnóir involves a sacred bond. One I will not discuss with you.”

  The caomhnóir stomped back into the room with a bowl full of water and a face cloth. When he reached Bear, he shoved them in his direction.

  Bear sat up and washed his hands. He took his time, spreading the pathetic lather of the dense soap over his forearms like he was preparing for surgery, until his fingertips grew numb.

  “That’s enough,” Lloth hissed.

  Bear shook his hands out over the bowl and looked at the caomhnóir expectantly. “Towel?”

  “Fuck off.”

  Bear sighed and pulled the contacts from his dry eyes. The soap still lingering on his fingertips stung. He squeezed his eyes shut while they continued to sting and water.

  “Aww look, he’s choking up.” The caomhnóir’s snide remark with fake concern made Bear want to punch him in the face.

  The caomhnóir stepped back, out of reach, as if reading Bear’s intent. Getting one more shot in before the torture started would’ve been nice. Bear let the contacts fall to the ground. No point hanging onto them.

  The man scanned Bear’s body. “We need to tend those wounds first if we’re going to do this now. He might bleed out on us.”

  Lloth sighed and spoke over her shoulder to one of the other guards. “Bring the healer.”

  “You’re going to heal me so you can break me?” Bear asked. That made no sense.

  “Precisely.” Lloth’s full lips quirked. She’d be a beautiful woman if she weren’t intent on hurting him.

  The guard returned with a gnarled old woman. She shuffled into the room and scowled at everyone, including the queen. No one corrected her insolence.

  The healer stepped up to the table. Her scowl softened briefly when she looked over the mess of his torso. She jabbed the angry skin near one of the stab wounds. The sympathetic expression quickly disappeared, replaced with a determined frown. “He’ll live.”

  “I know that, you foolish woman. Stop the bleeding so he survives what I have planned.”

  “Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Bear asked. What possible reason did Lloth have to speak to the old woman that way? Mom would tear a strip off his hide if she ever caught him disrespecting an elderly person this way.

  Unless it was their crazy neighbour, but Mrs. Humphreys was an exception.

  Lloth turned her unsettling black gaze on him.

  He instantly regretted saying anything.

  “When you have your heart ripped out and shredded apart for everyone to see and laugh at, then you’ll have an infinitesimal speck of understanding for the pain I harbour inside.”

  Okay, then...

  Mental note. If he survived this, he needed to make sure none of his exes visited Lloth in the Underworld. They didn’t need any ideas.

  The old woman patted his stomach as if to say, “there, there.”

  “Just get on with it,” Lloth hissed.

  The woman nodded, placed both her gnarled hands on Bear’s torso and hummed. Heat spread through his chest. His skin prickled and the stab wounds stung. The urge to leap up and run away tugged at his muscles. Blood rushed through his body to pool near the injuries. Flesh knitted together. The odd sensation wasn’t exactly painful, but it wasn’t pleasant either.

  The woman wavered on her feet and withdrew her hands to grip the table. When she stopped swaying, she opened her eyes. “It’s done.”

  “Now we can begin,” Lloth said.

  The old woman hobbled away, slipping from the room and into the darkness without another word while the guards closed in around the table. Not even a thank you.

  Jerks.

  Rough hands pushed Bear back. He swung at the warrior but missed. And just like that, he was flat on his back looking up at Lloth and her caomhnóir as they leaned over him.

  Lloth began to mumble some dark fae words. It was all gibberish to Bear. The caomhnóir held out another bowl. He must’ve prepared it while Bear had his healing session. The slop smelled like mud.

  Lloth grabbed a black-handled brush resting in it. Dark paint coated the coarse wide-angled bristles, too black to be mud. The smell intensified, bringing hints of iron with it.

  Lloth continued her mumbling chant as she drew runes on Bear’s chest. The cold paint sent chills along his skin.

  The other guards moved into place and shackled his legs and arms to the table.

  Bear didn’t struggle. What was the point? He wouldn’t escape this room alive. Not r
ight now. He had no delusions regarding his fighting prowess. Bear needed to conserve his energy to survive whatever Lloth had planned and then escape when the opportunity presented itself.

  Lloth’s chanting grew louder and the cold paint grew colder and colder until it burned. As if she took a poker to his skin and branded him like cattle, the runes dug into his flesh. The smell of burnt meat filled the room.

  Bear had planned to stay silent. He’d planned to be strong, be brave. Those plans quickly changed. Sweat coated his body, along with paint and blood. Bear screamed. His shouts echoed in the room with Lloth’s constant chanting acting like some sort of backbeat. If his body couldn’t flee, maybe his mind could. His thoughts frantically searched for somewhere else to go.

  Lloth slapped his face. His cheeks stung and his vision refocused on her cruel smile. Her dark magic coated him, saturating his skin and soaking in like some sort of evil body mask.

  “Let me in,” she said.

  Hard pass. His magic recoiled from her touch, drawing in farther and farther into himself, behind the crumbled walls he’d spent a lifetime making.

  The pain intensified. His heart thumped fast and irregular. His mind spiralled into childhood memories. Teasing his twin, Mom kissing his booboos, visiting the hospital to meet his baby brother for the first time, holding Juni in his arms. Giggles and laughter. Tears and crying. Family. Terry holding him and telling him everything was going to be okay after Raven shifted and he didn’t. Bear had broken down sobbing, the disappointment overwhelming.

  Then another memory. A recent one. Mischievous black eyes. Skin as soft as silk and dark as night. White hair cascading around the most beautiful face he’d ever seen, like moonlight spilling over a lake at midnight. Open eyes that pierced through him and saw him for who he truly was.

  “Stop fighting me.” Lloth pushed her magic deeper.

  Bear retreated again, scrambling back, building his barriers as he had before.

  Lloth screamed, her frustration palpable. The magic broke across the room. Deadly silence fell over them, only Bear’s panting echoed in the room now.