A Famine of Crows

by A. A. Chamberlynn

  “As if that’s a bad thing!” Dynah exclaimed.

  Zachariah offered an apologetic smile to the librarian and steered Dynah by the elbow, his grip crushing, out the front doors.

  “Let go!” she snapped as soon as the doors had closed behind them.

  “You’re forgetting a very important detail of this place,” Zachariah said, marching ahead of her so she had to jog to keep up. “It’s a time loop. Tomorrow none of these people will even remember you were here.”

  Dynah stiffened. She had in fact forgotten all about that. “Oh. Yes. Well, good then.”

  Zachariah made a sniffing sound and walked even faster.

  Dynah cast a glance over to Felicity. “I suppose you probably remembered.”

  “Of course,” Felicity said.

  She met her gaze but somehow their eyes just didn’t connect. Felicity’s gaze seemed far off, as if she was looking through her to something on the other side.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Dynah asked, stopping and placing a hand on Felicity’s shoulder.

  “Splendid,” her friend responded.

  Dynah felt a shiver run up her spine, though she didn’t know why. “Okay. Well, glad to hear it. I wonder if Zachariah can direct us to some dinner. I’m absolutely starving.”

  She hurried to catch up to the Fallen to pose the question.

  “You can get dinner in any of the establishments here,” he responded with an air as if her question was utterly pointless.

  “I suppose we can find something near the townhouse,” Dynah suggested. “Unless, of course, you have a favorite you’d prefer.”

  “Not in this realm,” Zachariah said. It was the most personable thing he’d uttered the entire day, which wasn’t saying much.

  Dynah and Felicity followed him back to the townhouse and Dynah selected a tavern around the corner. As they walked, she kept darting glances at Felicity, wondering what was bothering her. Every time their eyes met, she felt a chill in her blood. Was their mission useless after all? Was that why Felicity was in such a terrible mood?

  At the tavern, Dynah felt grateful for the swell of noise around them, both voices and the music of several string players in one corner. She gave up on trying to make conversation with her two reticent companions, and instead focused on her hungry belly. She filled up on a hearty stew, fresh-baked bread and butter, and baked apples for dessert. Zachariah paid with coins that she was fairly certain were glamoured like their outfits.

  After dinner, they adjourned to the townhouse and Zachariah bid them goodnight. Dynah felt a swell of relief. One less gloomy companion to deal with at least. She turned to Felicity, hoping that without the Fallen there, her friend would open up a little. Share whatever was bothering her. Help make their plan for the next day. But Felicity said goodnight a moment later and disappeared into her room without so much as a backward glance.

  Dynah felt her chest tighten. She couldn’t believe Felicity didn’t want to at least discuss their progress for the day. Or rather, their lack of progress. What had caused this abrupt shift in mood?

  She went into her own room, undressed, and climbed beneath the covers. As she looked around, she felt as if she were in a doll house. Pastel walls. Gleaming wood floors and a four-poster bed. A frilly laced-trimmed comforter and fine art hanging on the walls.

  Dynah realized that she’d never spent the night alone. Not ever. Throughout her childhood, she’d always shared a room with Penelope. And then these past few weeks she’d been with her fellow Riders, often beneath the open sky. She knew she should enjoy the luxury surrounding her. It was certainly the nicest place she’d ever stayed. But as she glanced around the large room, Dynah realized she’d never felt more alone in her whole life.

  Chapter Twelve

  Willow

  It took them the whole next day and another hundred miles before they found a town as-yet unvisited by the Apocalypse. By their dark magic.

  Late afternoon sun illuminated a tiny town nestled at the base of a mountain range. The buildings were constructed of adobe and logs, and bright flags and ceramic artwork brought life to the otherwise drab dwellings. Arialle hung back outside the town and Willow and Penelope rode in alone. The residents shot them looks of either suspicion or fear. Shutters were drawn, and children shooed inside.

  “Not sure who we’re going to get to talk to us with this kind of reception,” Penelope said softly.

  “We just need to find the local cantina,” Willow said. “Everyone talks when alcohol is involved.”

  Penelope snorted but didn’t disagree.

  They spotted the establishment before too long. It wasn’t hard to find: the only place left with lanterns burning brightly, and the sound of music and laughter pouring out onto the street. Willow and Penelope dismounted outside and tied their reins to the railing. Not because Bullet and Domino needed to be tied, but just to keep up appearances. Willow tipped her hat down over her face a bit and stepped through the wooden double doors of the cantina.

  She sauntered over to the bar and sat down next to a pair of rough-and-tumble looking cowboys. Penelope slid onto the barstool next to her. Willow couldn’t help but notice they were the only two women in the whole place. The eyes of about two dozen men settled on them like burning coals.

  Willow swept her leather duster behind her and met the gaze of the two men next to her with a fiery one of her own. She saw a bottle of golden liquid on top of the bar, so when the barkeep flicked his gaze to her and Penelope, more out of curiosity than an attempt to serve them, she gave a sharp nod toward it.

  The barkeep swept his gaze to the men next to her and they let out a collective snicker. He flipped over two tiny glasses, smaller than the size of her fist, and poured a stream of liquor into each one. Then he slid them across the velvety smooth bar, the wood worn by many, many hands before them. Willow took the first glass and lifted it to her lips, keeping eye contact with the barkeep. She tossed it back, then took the second glass, the one no doubt meant for Penelope, and downed that in a single gulp as well. The liquor burned like demons dancing in her throat, her chest, her stomach, but she kept her face as smooth as the polished bar. Then she tapped her finger next to the glass to indicate she wanted more.

  There was a moment of stillness, a hush of held breath all around the cantina, and then the bartender grinned, and the men sitting next to them let out a hoot of laughter and slapped Willow on the back.

  They began to talk. The cowboys were vaqueros, riders who specialized in trick roping on horseback. Since Penelope was also a trick rider, they hit it off right away. It was nice, to sit and talk horses and not worry about the end of the world.

  But things have a way of circling back around.

  “What brings you two to our town?” one of the vaqueros asked after several minutes of horse talk.

  “We’re not accustomed to seeing women traveling alone,” the other added.

  Penelope and Willow exchanged glances. “We’re looking for something,” Willow said.

  “Mountains,” Penelope added. “Mountains that are…haunted.”

  “Haunted?” The two cowboys exchanged glances.

  “Um, ghosts? Spirits?”

  “Oh… phantasma,” said the one. “Why would you seek such a thing?”

  “We seek the woman who lives there,” Willow said. “Do you know where it is?”

  The men nodded. “It is south of here. But you should not attempt to find it. Those who venture there do not return.”

  “It’s very important,” Willow said. “Or we wouldn’t ask. Lives depend on it.”

  The men looked at each other again. “It is perhaps fifty miles from here. South and west.”

  “How will we know which mountains they are?” Willow asked.

  “You will know.” The man’s lips pressed into a grim line. “The mountains… they are shrouded in shadows.”

  “Thank you,” Penelope said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  The men shuddered and made
the sign of the cross. “Do not thank us. We pray for your souls.”

  The vaqueros got up shakily from the bar and left. Willow realized that all eyes in the cantina were once again on her and Penelope. “I think it’s time we left,” she whispered.

  Penelope nodded, and Willow took several coins from one of the pockets of her duster and placed them on the bar. Then they got up and strode for the entrance. Willow shoved open the two wooden doors.

  And came face to face with Zane.

  She stood there in shock for a moment. Their eyes met, blue against jade. His black hair was messy and windswept, and his wings flared out behind him. She hadn’t seen him since the battle for the sixth seal. Since he’d inexplicably spared her life.

  “What are you doing here?” Willow growled. “Back to finish the job?”

  “Willow—” he began.

  And then she saw them, riding up behind him.

  The Others.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Felicity

  Felicity’s head felt like a split watermelon. She sat up slowly, the room spinning around her. Where was she?

  She remembered then. The townhouse of the Fallen. Their day at the library before. Though it was all a bit foggy. She’d gotten a terrible headache early on, and the throbbing pain had made the rest of the day pass by in a blur.

  Getting out of bed with great caution, she waited until the room quit moving, then walked over to the closet. Zachariah’s glamour from the day before had worn off, and she figured if there were clean clothes inside, she would happily take advantage of them. Her fingers flipped through the hangers until she found a simple white dress that seemed as if it would fit. A bit large, but with a floral-patterned sash she could tighten around her ribcage to minimize the size difference.

  When she turned back around after putting it on, she saw that Sekhmet’s book was open on the bedside table. Her brow wrinkled. She didn’t remember looking through it the night before. She’d been exhausted when they’d gotten back from dinner, and recalled only that she fell straight into bed. Clearly, though, she must have. Why else would it be there?

  Felicity strode over to it and looked down at the pages. It wasn’t the spell they’d been working on, but something else. This spell, however, she couldn’t decipher. Try as she might to read the hieroglyphs on the page, her mind could make neither head nor tails of it. Strange. She shrugged and shuffled out into the hallway, then knocked on Dynah’s door.

  “You don’t have anything for a headache by chance, do you?” she asked when Dynah answered.

  Dynah’s perfect lips parted in surprise. “Headache?”

  “Yes, it’s awful. Since yesterday. I can’t seem to shake it.” Felicity placed her palm over her forehead.

  “This place has an actual bathroom,” Dynah said, “Let’s go see what’s in the medicine cabinet.”

  Dynah led the way across the hall into a large, tiled room with a clawfoot tub. She gestured for Felicity to sit on the toilet while she began to rummage through the medicine cabinet next to the sink. Felicity stared at the pink and white ribbon pattern of the wallpaper until Dynah straightened and held a bottle before her.

  “Laudanum. It says it’s a pain killer.”

  “Yes, my mother used it from time to time,” Felicity said, reaching out to take the bottle. She measured out a small dose in the bottle cap, poured it into a glass next to the sink, and gulped it down.

  “Hopefully that helps,” Dynah said. She stared at Felicity, her blue eyes bright and her brow wrinkled in concern. “You definitely seemed out of sorts yesterday.”

  “Did I?” Felicity looked up at her.

  Dynah nodded. “I wasn’t sure if you were just upset because the research didn’t go well, or if I had done something…”

  “What would you have done?”

  A blush crept over Dynah’s pale cheeks. “I don’t know… I’m just not very good with books and reading and such. I thought maybe you were… I guess I thought I had disappointed you.”

  Felicity reached out and placed her hand on Dynah’s, which rested on the cool marble counter. “Not at all.”

  Dynah smiled, brilliant as the sun. “Oh, good. I’m so relieved. This house makes me anxious.”

  “Anxious? Why?”

  Another blush. “I’m not used to... well. Big rooms. Nice furniture. Paintings on the walls.” She waved her hand. “A bathroom instead of an outhouse.”

  Felicity couldn’t say she understood. Her parents’ house had been even more ostentatious than this one.

  “We grew up quite differently,” Dynah said, as if reading her thoughts.

  “I may have had money,” Felicity said, “But I would have traded it all for what you had. To fit in. To be adored.”

  “Perhaps.” Dynah shrugged and fiddled with one of her red curls. “I realized last night that I’d never spent the night by myself. It was really lonely. I don’t think—” she hesitated, as if searching for words, then began again— “I don’t know who I am when I’m not around other people.”

  “Well, maybe it was a good thing, then,” Felicity said. “To get away from what you knew before. To learn who you are. Just you.”

  Another shrug. “Maybe.”

  Felicity stood up. Her head was already starting to feel a bit better. “Are you ready to try at the library again?”

  Dynah nodded. “Hopefully we’ll have better luck today.”

  “I think we will, now that this headache is going away.”

  Felicity smiled, and they walked out into the hall.

  “You’re so… so smart,” Dynah said. “Who would have thought we could save the world with books?”

  A laugh bubbled up from Felicity’s chest. “Indeed.”

  With a shimmer of surprise, she realized that Dynah looked up to her. For her education, and for her family’s wealth. She actually had the upper hand in something. Ever since she’d set eyes on Dynah years ago she’d been infatuated, and it had never occurred to her that such a thing could happen.

  You can use this to your advantage, said a voice in her head.

  Felicity felt a ripple of unease, followed by guilt. It wasn’t a very pleasant thought. Where exactly had that come from?

  She ducked her head in shame and headed down the stairs for the first floor, leaving Dynah alone in the hallway.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Penelope

  Penelope felt a wave of horror as she looked into the candle-wax faces of the Others. They were fanned out around the entrance to the cantina. Her own copy seemed to be staring right at her, but it was hard to tell without eyes. Revulsion shivered over her.

  “I knew it!” Willow snarled, and she pulled back and punched Zane in the face. He hit the ground hard, Willow’s magic shimmering out around her. Inside the cantina, Penelope could sense a shift in the men as Willow’s chaos moved over them. When Willow bent over Zane and pulled back to strike him again, Penelope grabbed her fist.

  “We’ve got to get out of here!” She jerked her head to indicate the scene behind them, where the men were getting rowdier by the moment.

  Willow nodded, though her jaw flexed and rolled in anger. Penelope could feel the rage pouring off her. Rage and magic mixed. She ran to Domino and leapt on his back, tearing the reins free of the post as she went. Willow was only a moment behind her on Bullet, and then they were skyward bound.

  Penelope didn’t look back to see how close the Others were, or where Zane had gone off to. She bent low over Domino’s neck, her sole focus on putting as much space between them and the town below as possible. If a fight was coming, she didn’t want the vaqueros and their neighbors caught in the crossfire.

  The wind tore past her, and they reached the clouds in less than a minute. Maybe, if they were very lucky, they could lose the Others amidst them. Penelope saw a dark bank of clouds a couple of miles away, and she made for it.

  A flare of light next to her made her whip her head around, but it was only Willow and Bullet. The
mare had flames streaking behind her, as she had the first few days after their transformation. Willow’s out-of-control emotions about Zane had clearly caused them, but she didn’t have time to think on it further. Because out of the corner of her eye she saw their pursuers below.

  They were coming up fast. Penelope’s heart raced, and she could feel the heat coming off Domino’s muscles as he galloped through the sky. The thunder bank ahead hung low over a range of mountains. If they could disappear inside and then drop out somewhere without the Others noticing, they might have a chance.

  A flash of red, and Arialle appeared on their right. She must have seen them take to the sky. She hugged the air next to Penelope and Domino, her wings beating powerfully. Her spear glinted in her hand and her expression was so fierce that Penelope found herself glad she was their ally and not their enemy.

  The storm loomed ahead, and Penelope pressed Domino for a final burst of speed. They dove into the roiling gray-purple clouds. The electricity in the air was palpable. Penelope could feel it along her skin, taste it in the back of her throat. The three of them flew side by side, inches from each other. She made a gesture downward, hoping Willow and Arialle would interpret her intentions. They both nodded. But she couldn’t tell whether they were over the mountains yet or not. Up ahead, a bolt of lightning turned the dark clouds bright and hot. Domino shivered as if absorbing its power.

  Penelope leaned forward in her saddle, sending Domino at a slight downward angle until they skimmed the bottoms of the clouds. She began to catch glimpses of the landscape below. The mountains were just ahead. A short dive from the cloud cover and they’d be among them. She waved her arm around to signal Willow and Arialle.

  And then they dove.

  Domino plummeted like a hawk in sight of its prey, a nearly vertical drop out of the clouds. Penelope leaned so far back in the saddle her head nearly touched his hindquarters. Her fists locked tight around her saddle horn. The wind rushed into her mouth, her throat, her lungs, suffocating her. Tears were ripped from her eyes. The mountains approached with frightening speed…