Crow's Caw at Nightmoon Creek Read online

  “We’ll deal with that when it comes,” I whisper.

  “I used to help Marge bake. I made the gingerbread. They were your favorite,” Mr. McMurphy shouts. He’s backlit by the dim glow of the streetlights and he seems to be more substantial than he was a minute ago.

  “He’s right,” I hiss in Lennon’s ear. “They were.”

  “He’s a wizard. He could have been spying on Mrs. McMurphy for years.”

  “True that,” I concur. “But still…maybe we should hear him out. Do you have a better idea, Mr. Fugitive?”

  “You’re right.” He cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Do you know anything about ARC?”

  “Oh, my, yes. They don’t like shifters. They call them vermin and say their purpose is to stop development. Animal rights and all that. They killed my poor Marge. Her soul is trapped in the house. She needs release,” he says, in a mournful voice.

  “Goddamn! I knew she’s been skulking about,” Lennon whispers.

  “They stripped me of my powers but they couldn’t eliminate me. I hid in the magic code portal between the walls. That’s why they hired you to get rid of all traces of us. They thought somehow I’d be eradicated. All I’ve been able to do for the last year is listen to murmurs of goings on.” He takes a few tentative steps toward us. “But thanks to you, my powers are restoring.”

  “Don’t come any closer,” Lennon yells.

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  An animal leaps through the wet weeds.

  Muffin.

  Sure enough when the feline gets to Mr. McMurphy, he scoops the cat into his bony arms. “Don’t worry, Muffin. We’re sorting things out.” He holds the cat high. “This was our familiar. Muffin’s a very special cat. Thank you for allowing him in the house, Mr. Lusk.”

  “Uh, you’re welcome.” Lennon leans in close. “Where’d he find the body parts?” he whispers.

  “Bill Holloway. Long story. Too much to tell. But you should see Bill. Better yet, no one should see Bill, or what’s left of him.”

  “Got it. Understood. That’s sick. But satisfying.”

  I can’t really see well but it looks like something like intestines are forming and bunching in Mr. McMurphy’s abdomen region, followed by skin and muscle covering it. “Ew. There’s some more, er, body parts. It’s happening as we speak. I sent the other crows after Bill when he got away. Each time they consume a wasp or two, well…” I swirl a hand at the forming mass of muscle across from us. “So how do we know you won’t become as evil as Bill once you’ve taken his shape?” I ask the bony freak across the field.

  “We don’t. I only hope the spirit trapped in my bones is strong enough to overcome.”

  “I guess that’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Lennon says to me. “What do you know about ARC? What have you heard in the past year if you can really hear murmurs?” he yells.

  “They have a wizard on the payroll. Octavius Devilshorn. He’s manipulating politicians to further ARC’s ambition. He’s the one who killed Marge.”

  “Do you know what kind of car he drives?” I call.

  “He likes the pricey ones. Last I knew he drove a Mercedes Maybach.”

  I cup my hand around Lennon’s ear. “He knows enough. We should at least find out his agenda. Let’s not reveal too much.”

  “Agreed,” Lennon says. “Back in the house with you,” he tells Mr. McMurphy. “A neighbor sees you and we’ll have another death by fright on our hands.” He waves his hands at the skeletal form, as if shooing a cow into the corral.

  Mr. McMurphy turns and good-naturedly strolls back to the house, the kitty in his grip.

  Lennon lets out a loud whistle.

  “Calling for Hawke?”

  “Yep. We need as many witness as possible. I figure between the three of us, we’ll be able to tell if this freak’s telling the truth.” He takes my hand in his.

  “So, after this is all over, we need to talk about some things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you called me your girlfriend and shit like that. All we’ve done is share a couple kisses.”

  “Yeah, I thought about that while I was incarcerated. It seemed like the wise thing to do, given what happened.”

  “So I’m not your girlfriend?” I feel both relieved and disappointed.

  “I don’t know, I’ve never had one.”

  “Seriously?” I’m stunned.

  “No shit. Never stayed around in one area for too long. Never wanted a chain or a collar around my neck.”

  “What about Elena. Was she girlfriend material?”

  Lennon gets quiet. He swallows. Finally, he says, “Okay, I’m going to tell you something.”

  “What is it?” I like the warmth between our palms. I like the friendly fire flowing between us.

  “I only dated Elena to get to you.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t get mad. I know how you girls get protective of one another, but I couldn’t see another way. I didn’t think it would lead to…” He shakes his head, unable to complete the thought. “Actually, I wanted to get to you and I didn’t.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It scares me. You scare me.”

  “Me?” Now I’m flabbergasted. “What’s scary about me?”

  “I sensed you were different. Elena and me – we wouldn’t have worked out, you know? She’s no shifter.”

  “No,” I say sadly. “But she was an amazing person.”

  “I could see that. She was. I’m sorry she’s dead. But I never go for the cheerleader types. I prefer someone with more substance…more complexity…like you. Yet I play it safe with the rah-rah types, knowing they’ll bore me after a couple dates. And I never thought I’d meet someone like you. That’s what scares me. You make me want to stick around. I’m not sure if I’m stick around material. Ask Hawke. I’ve betrayed him more than once. I promised him this time I wouldn’t leave. But now I may not have a choice what with the growing list of crimes assigned to me.”

  We’re standing a few yards from the house. Hawke sits patiently on the front stoop, fully dressed. I guess Mr. McMurphy has gone inside. My tongue seems to have knotted up, as I can’t think of anything to say. I turn to face Lennon, and I feel all vulnerable and weird and shit. All my armor is missing.

  He seems to be in a similar place.

  We study each other for a moment, until I manage to say, “I’ve never been with a guy for more than one night. I kinda don’t believe you when you express interest in me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I’m different. Too much of this, not enough of that. I’ll never be Elena. I always wished I could be more like her, but I can’t.”

  “I don’t want you to be more like her. I like you as you are. You’re beautiful. Your body is…” He swallows. “Let’s just say you’ve been the source of more than a few fantasies. You’re perfect.”

  I realize I’m breathing fast, like a bird about to take flight.

  Lennon cups his palm behind my neck and pulls me close, connecting mouth to mouth with me.

  Hawke groans in the distance.

  Lennon moves his arm away and I wonder if he’s flipping the kid off. He deepens the kiss and grinds his hips against me, letting me know how hard his desire is. Finally, we release one another and look at one another breathless.

  “I guess this is a good thing…we don’t have any baggage to haul around. I can’t say I have a clue about how to have a real relationship. Let’s give it a trial run.”

  “It may be a short trial,” Lennon says, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I told you, I may be forced to live on the run.”

  “One step at a time. First, we find out who killed Elena and set her soul free. Then we can deal with all that relationship stuff.”

  “Deal,” he says, and he sticks out his hand for a handshake.

  I grasp it firmly and give it a solid shake.

  “As long as I get inside you,” he says, in a voic
e so low, so hot, it enters me and stirs my heat to a blaze.

  “Mercy,” I say, fanning my face.

  “We’re coming, we’re coming,” Lennon calls to Hawke, as we turn to stride toward the house. “We’re still a team, remember?”

  “I’m holding you to it,” the kid calls sullenly.

  “Lennon?” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not…I don’t feel so well. Kinda shaky.”

  “Our kisses will do that,” he teases, turning to look at me. His eyes widen in alarm. “Mercedes! There’s blood all over your sleeve. Mercy! Hawke, get your ass over here and help me get her inside.”

  “Yes, I can help her but there will be some unpleasant complications for a while,” someone says.

  Mr. McMurphy? My brain feels all fuzzed out. I must’ve done one of those fade to black maneuvers again.

  “What kind of complications?”

  That’s Lennon. Good. He’s still here.

  “To accelerate healing, I’ll have to accelerate time for her, putting her a few weeks into the future. I’d say four to six weeks, tops. We don’t want to do more than that.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Lennon says.

  “Perhaps not for you. She’ll be living in her future for a time, until her consciousness catches up with the transformation, and her past, which is her present in your world view. She won’t know if something she’s experiencing already happened or will happen. It can mess with a person’s mind. It’s like living in a time warp. She’ll be eager for you all to catch up, or if the future is dire, try to ward if off from happening.”

  “Can she influence change? If the future isn’t a good one, can she change the outcome?”

  “Doubtful. Depends.”

  “On what?” The tension in Lennon’s voice is palpable.

  “On a variety of factors, including all of those in her present reality, including you.”

  Someone who sounds like me moans, but it seems to be far, far away.

  “Well, do something,” Lennon says. “She’s in agony.”

  His hand brushes my hair.

  “There’s one other thing,” Mr. McMurphy says.

  “What’s that?” Lennon answers.

  “Since you’re the one giving permission to act on her behalf, you’ll be indebted to her, karmically, and vice versa.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’ll each owe the other. Owing a debt to one another can feel like a burden. It can feel like entrapment. She might not understand why she feels resentful toward you or you toward her.”

  Permission granted! You don’t need Lennon’s okay! Why doesn’t my mouth work? Where am I and what’s going on? Roger Banks was right. Blood loss can be a bitch. I want to punch someone or something. We have a lot of work to do, and I’ve got to do it, and right now, I can’t find or feel my body.

  “All right. Do something. Look at her. She’s in misery.” Lennon sounds frantic, at his breaking point.

  “Okay, hold her still. You…Hawke. Hold her feet. Lennon, you stay at her head. You might need to restrain her shoulders. This is going to hurt a bit. Reorienting cellular structure takes time and energy. I’m low on energy and we don’t have much time. Let’s do this.”

  I slip into a fluid, dreamy, hearts and flowers kind of sleep, thinking, No pain. No pain at all. No pain, no problem.

  “Work with me. My energy is low. Let me siphon some from each of you. Hold my hand.”

  “Ew, no way am I going to hold a skeleton’s hand,” Hawke says.

  “Man up, kid. We all work together toward the goal.”

  “What’s the goal? You leaving?” Hawke snipes. “I heard you whispering to Mercedes about how you don’t think you’ll be able to stick around.”

  Oh, come on, Hawke, let go of your gripes. I want to strangle the teen and then, shift into crow and pull him apart while he still retains a shred of consciousness.

  They must have begun working together as a blue-green light blasts into my body. I feel like Bill must have felt when his eyeball was carved from his head. An excruciating sensation like being sliced and diced by twelve men bearing dull, serrated knives comes first, sawing and sawing and tearing at my skin, followed by a “dunked in scalding water” kind of experience.

  Next, acid feels poured into my wounds, and I flip out into dark worlds, flying for my life, sailing over tombstones, flapping hard over Nightmoon Creek as it’s being demolished. Hawke’s below me, angry to the point of boiling, and Lennon? He’s nowhere to be found. I’m unable to stay present for this. No way will I watch the destruction of Nightmoon Creek or deal with the fallout of Lennon’s departure.

  “Oh, God, what are you doing to her?” Lennon’s voice sounds anguished.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” That’s Hawke.

  I definitely fade to black, only it’s a sweet black…it’s the black of dying and being sent to heaven.

  “Mercedes, come on. Come on back. Wake up.”

  Some strange, acrid smell fills my nostrils and I jerk awake, my hand shoving the foul smelling substance from my nose. I stare at my onlookers. Lennon, Hawke and Mr. McMurphy, who now sports a full nose, a chin, cheeks, a neck and an arm, peer at me, their faces full of relief.

  “Thank fuck,” Lennon says.

  “Shit,” says Hawke.

  My eyes land on the teen. “Are you all right?” I ask.

  “Uh, are you?” he answers.

  “Wait a minute, what are you doing here?” I ask Lennon. “You left us. Did you come back?”

  “I didn’t leave. I’ve been holding you for a couple hours hoping you came back.”

  I blink, confused.

  Hawke seems to get it. He gets something at any rate, as he pushes my legs away from him, gets up and stomps out of the living room.

  “Wait,” Lennon cries. “I’m still here.” He releases my head and torso and hurries after him, leaving me with Mr. McMurphy.

  “What’s their problem?” I ask, sitting up. I roll my shoulders in a circle, front to back and back to front. “And why are you only partially restored? Did the process stop?”

  “It will only occur when Bill’s shifted and you send the crow people after him.” He smiles and this time I can tell it’s a smile since he has lips now, shielding his tongue.

  “I see.” I nod. “Well, I can’t control his ability to shift. And,” I scan him up and down, squelching my shudders, “you look better than before.” I roll my shoulders again. Tug my collar so I can see the skin. A large scar remains, but overall, it looks healed. “Thank you for healing me.”

  “Oh, I’d wait to thank me,” he says, and I swear he looks rueful, even though he’s missing half of his face.

  “I’d better get going. Time’s ticking. I have to save Nightmoon Creek, find Elena’s killer and all that.”

  He nods, his one eye scrutinizing me carefully.

  “What are you looking at?” I palpate my shoulder, still unconvinced it’s healed. Wow. No pain. A barrage of memories floods my brain, not one of them good. “Nightmoon Creek!” I wail. “It’s under development.”

  “Not yet, it’s not,” Mr. McMurphy says softly.

  “And Lennon’s gone. He left both me and Hawke. He ran!” Tears fill my eyes.

  “Not yet, he didn’t.”

  A horrifying realization dawns. “I’m not a soul snatcher and I never will be! Odin told me. He said he was sorry but he can’t alter fate. This sucks. You did this to me. You and Lennon! You both suck. What’s the use of even trying now? It’s over. And my friend Elena will probably be stuck in a morgue forever!” I don’t know which of the outcomes hurts the most. They all represent my worst fears. They’re the suckiest of the sucky, the most horrible of the horrid outcomes. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing left to live for.

  Maybe I’ll be the one to leave. Maybe it’s a sign I need to change, to get out of this cloistered little town and experience life, the way Lennon encouraged. Yeah, that’s
it. I’ll run, then it won’t hurt so badly when he runs. I’ll run first. I get to my feet, armor encasing my heart, and say, “Sorry things didn’t work out. Hope you get your body back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away from here, that’s for sure. I’m done trying to save people’s lives.” I stalk toward the front door, slamming it behind me as I depart.

  Lennon and Hawke argue on the front porch.

  I sail past them, without giving either one of them a glance.

  “Where are you going?” Lennon asks.

  He lunges for me, but misses, since I haul my arm out of his way.

  “Away. I’m running this time. Nightmoon Creek is fucked, and you’re leaving, which means you’re fucked, too. I’ll only get my heart broken by staying.”

  “Mercedes, wait,” he said, “the wizard said nothing’s written in stone.”

  “Did he?” I put my hands on my hips and face him. “I never heard that. I heard most of the conversation until it became to excruciating to be in my body. I’m pretty sure he said it depends on you, but since we all know you’re leaving, I don’t care how you influence outcomes, got it?”

  “Mercedes, I…” His eyes are moist with tears.

  “Don’t bother trying to find me. I’m already heartbroken and we barely started. Oh, and my soul snatcher status never happens, too. Three strikes and I’m out of here.” I can barely hold back the onslaught of tears pummeling my tear ducts. I turn my attention to Hawke. “I get it, kid. You’re saddled with a real asshole of an uncle.”

  His jaw drops as he stares at me, then turns to glare at his uncle.

  “Go fuck yourself, Lennon Lusk.” With that, I blur into crow, leaving my clothes as parting mementoes. I don’t care if I ever see them again.

  I flutter to the windowsill at the back of my house, the one hidden from view by shrubs and trees. Once inside, I shift to human, and stroll into my bedroom to find clothes. I’m completely numb. I refuse to cry. Everything I’ve ever wanted—to protect Nightmoon Creek, to help a few souls, to become a soul snatcher, and my fanciful dream of getting together with that Lusk asshole have been blown apart. I glance at the clock. It’s 2 a.m. No way am I going to sleep. I’m going somewhere, anywhere but here.