Call of the Raven (2 page)

“I will do only what is expected of me.”
Asher said. “I will keep them. I will provide for them, but I will
not love them, ever. It is the only way to survive.”

“There was one Keeper that married and had
children and he lived a long life.”

“You are right. There was
one
such
Keeper, in all the history of ani-shifts that didn’t accept the
Raven’s call, but he eventually went mad. Didn’t he?” Asher’s eyes
boldly lifted to Grant’s and his lips curved upward into a sardonic
smile. “Or have you forgotten how
your
father was tormented
until he eventually took his own life?”

This time Grant did nothing to prevent the
fury spurned by Asher’s words. He allowed it to show in his eyes,
his face. He had never told anyone the truth about his father and
for Asher to know meant he had gone prying into the archives.

Detecting his anger, Asher exhaled, and then
quickly stated, “The wolf has full autonomy. He can do as he
pleases.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Only the Keeper
and the Pillar Council are granted access to the archives and
you
are not yet a Keeper.”

“Oh,” Asher looked away. “That’s where
you’re
wrong. Before the cock crows the Raven will call and
you
will be no longer.”

Grant’s anger was quickly replaced by an
overwhelming and alarming sadness. Just as he started to speak his
eyes landed on the book that Asher clutched in his hand and with
the slightest turn of his head, he noticed several other books just
like it stacked on the nightstand. The titles Grant knew all too
well since he had read them himself.

Fact or mythical, the books were all about
the Raven. He had spent a great majority of his life searching for
an answer just like Asher. Even among the archives Asher was
searching past historical events for solutions. If he wanted
answers, than he couldn’t be beyond help—beyond hope. Neither of
them was. Grant had to believe that.

“I discovered a spell in an old book,” Grant
said. For the first time during their conversation Asher’s
attention was fully his. Even in the dim room the strange color,
the almost fluorescent blue of Asher’s eyes intimidated Grant with
their intensity. Lowering his gaze, Grant refused to let Asher see
his doubts. He knew that his plans weren’t full proof. There were
dangers that involved cost, not just to him. “I’m not going without
a fight. I plan to use the spell. I want to live and I want to
love. Asher, despite everything else that you feel, please lookout
for me.”

Unconvinced, Asher shook his head. “You have
nothing, so nothing will change. Fate has seen to that. As I said
before there is only one way, and that is my way…never to
love.”

Grant stopped in the doorway and regarded
him. “What a sad, selfish way to live then.”

***

There wasn’t
a
single star in
the pitch black spans of sky, only the fading moon. As Grant Lake
stood in the backyard, in the middle of a garden that filled the
night with the scent of roses and honeysuckle, there was something
behind his weakness, something powerful that prevented him from
shifting into the wolf. Dropping down to the rain soaked ground he
focused all his strength on the waning globe suspended above the
outcropping of distant pines, but again nothing happened. Through
the knees of his jeans the earth’s chill penetrated clear to the
bone, and he shuddered because of it.

Looking back over his shoulder toward the
manor, he could make out a shadow in the second floor window. Asher
was watching. Yet, knowing that he wasn’t truly alone, Grant still
found no comfort. Then he heard it, the sound he had come to
fear…the distant call of the Raven. Dread washed over him. His eyes
lingered on Asher’s shadow, wishing he could somehow relay to him
his pain. Grant refused to allow Asher to be right. He
would
end the curse.

Turning away from the house, Grant stood,
brushed himself off and started walking with even more
determination than before. His steps were not his own, for some
unseen hand was guiding him. His mind was a tangle of thoughts
creating a perverted sense of time that unpredictably placed him in
front of the fog shrouded trees, without the knowledge of how he
got there. With one large stride, Grant crossed the threshold and
entered the forest. When the haze cleared he became aware that he
had been transported to his family’s final resting place.

How ironic, he thought, that the conclusion
of his journey would end here.

For several seconds Grant stared through the entrance
of the cemetery. The iron gates were adorned with an intricate
display of patterns. In those designs he saw the symbols of his
family, the wolf, the tiger, the falcon, and the rat. There were
all sorts of animal shifters, or more preferably known as
ani-shifts, but these were the most important of all.

He pictured their faces, the ones those symbols
represented. They were the reasons he had accepted the call. Asher
had been right. According to the archives it was only when a Keeper
found love that the Raven called, and only when a Keeper ignores
his fate that the Raven turns its wrath on those they love.

Cement and marble stones in an array of shapes and
sizes, some elaborate, some not, poked through a dense layer of
mist that hugged the ground. In the distance he could see the
steeple that marked the small church where his family conducted
their funerals. Grant pushed open the gate and proceeded to walk
across the soggy ground. His eyes scanned the church with its wide
wooden porch and simple, yet elegant lattice work. His family never
came here except to bury their dead. It was taboo. When was the
last time? Parker? He had been the Keeper then, dying at
thirty-four, and now Grant knew his funeral would be next.

He stopped and his boots sunk down into the muddy
ground. Again, fate directed Grant to a desolate region of the
cemetery which dated centuries back. He recognized it then,
situated in the farthest corner, alone and separate, practically
concealed by overgrown brush and the extended branches of a willow.
Several of the graves were marked with large sculptures of animals
representing the form of the ani-shift that lay entombed there
forever, but this grave was alone, all by itself.

Shivering uncontrollably, Grant pushed back a long
sinuous branch and looked upon an image of a marble raven. The beak
was open in mid-caw. The eyes were made of red jewels that
glistened in the moonlight, which gave off an eerie manifestation
as though it were alive.

He let the branch go and dropped down on his
haunches. With a black gloved hand, he moved the tall grass aside,
so he could see the name etched into the stone. The hair on the
back of his neck stood up and he breathed a staggered breath.

He recognized the name.

The chorus from the owl, the crickets, and the wind
suddenly ceased leaving a ghostly silence in their wake. Earnestly,
he sought out the moon, his eyes attempting to channel its power.
This visual conduit was the means to his magic. But it wasn’t
working. Without his magic he wouldn’t be able to cast the
spell.

"That's where you’re wrong. Before the cock crows
the Raven will call and you will be no longer."

How could he have been so stupid?

As Parker’s successor he remembered the oppressive
feeling that had been there the night of his death. Grant had felt
it deep within his soul that Parker was going to die. And sadly,
this night as Asher stood in the window watching him go, without so
much as a farewell, he had known.

Grant meant to stand but before he could, he was
suddenly knocked forward with such force that, his head smashed
against the hardness of the tombstone. Pain shot backward from his
eyes and traveled down to his neck. He tried to move his fingers,
his arms, his legs, but they did not respond.

Without warning his body rose up from the ground and
began to spin in rapid circles, and then just as quickly as the
assault began, it came to an abrupt stop. With his brain continuing
on in its gyrating dance, acidic bile crept up from his stomach. He
swallowed hard to prevent himself from getting sick.

Once again the invisible force took possession of his
body and slammed him against the cold wet earth. An involuntary
grunt escaped from his lips upon impact, while his ears filled with
the sounds of evil laughter. Within his peripheral vision, Grant
spotted a darkened form standing just on the edge of the trees. He
tried to turn his head but his body refused to obey, so he lay
still and quiet as the figure approached.

With each slow methodical stride, Grant could make
out more and more of his assailant…the Raven. He could make out a
long dark trench coat—collar stiffly gathered around the neck, and
black fingerless gloves. From his hands a brilliant light began to
glow, blinding Grant, so that all he could see was the light.

“Why are you doing this?” Grant cried out. “I trusted
you.”

“Because it is expected, because I have no choice.
That is why.” With glowing red eyes the Raven drew back preparing
to throw the light.

“Please,” Grant groaned, “let it end here with
me.”

For a moment Grant was lost in the stars, his
thoughts taking him back to the very first time he saw her working
the register in the cafeteria
.
She was so much younger than
he was but at that very moment, he knew without a doubt that he had
been taken in by her smile. Now he would never know what their
future might hold, all because he had blindly let the Raven come
into his life.

His mind began to race between the faces of those he
loved—all doomed to a life under Asher’s heartless supervision.
Surrendering to fate, Grant lay helpless on the damp ground. Even
if he could, there was no reason to try and move now. He was dying.
Through haze filled eyes he blinked upward at the distorted face
that loomed over him.

“Let it end here, please,” he mouthed.

Squatting down, the Raven stroked Grant's hair back
from his brow. Anguish swept over Grant as he searched the face he
knew well. “There, there Keeper, don't let it bother you too much.
Your instincts are no good around me. It's not your fault that you
didn't suspect anything. I was made that way, to conceal what I am,
even from myself. It's the only way a Raven can get revenge, and
it's the only reason we exist.”

“Please,” Grant coughed as blood splattered across
his shirtfront, “leave my family alone!” Pain raged through his
body from his injuries, but far more excruciating was the inner
turmoil of knowing that Asher was right. He had failed and the
curse would continue.

“For your obedience to the call your family will
survive. However, for Asher I'm afraid that's entirely out of the
question, because he's the one we want now.”

“No!” Grant begged one last time. “Let him be.”

“Sorry but it’s his turn now.” With his purpose
realized, the Raven disappeared in a flash of lightening that
momentarily lit up the darkened woods. Grant closed his eyes
willing Asher to hear him, hoping that he might get the message.
They were wolf brothers. Even though Asher tended to both deny and
resent what he was, he was a wolf all the same.

And he was the Keeper now.

No comfort came, nothing but the black void that was
associated with Asher’s heart.

Grant refused to die like this.

He would not die.

He would live, if only to prove Asher wrong.

Besides, dying meant leaving his child alone, and
Grant refused to let that happen.

A warm pulsating aura began to emanate from Grant’s
body, a slow tingle that started in his feet and spread upward
growing stronger as it reached his brain. Now that the Raven was
through with him, his magic was returning. Grant summoned what
strength he had left, along with hope.

That combination would be all that he needed to cast
the spell. Just a few simple syllables would allow his body to die,
but his spirit hopefully would live on. Warmth flowed throughout
his body as he uttered the words, and as it traveled, it washed
away his pain. He relished the peace even though it would be
short-lived.

Rain drizzled down upon his face as he laid waiting
for the inevitable to come. The easy part was over. Soon the hard
part would begin. Only through death could the spell be achieved.
Beat by beat his pulse began to quicken, until a tearing spasm—like
a hand seizing his heart in a death grip, took hold.

Yes, his body would die, but…

As his head rolled backward, Grant’s gaze fell on the
grotesque statue of the raven. Two red angry eyes glared down at
him. Grant knew that the Raven was aware that he had made the
ultimate sacrifice. Even as the crescendo of torment grew and Grant
Lake lay dying, a smile formed on his lips.

It would end…yes, it would end.

Chapter One

The Unexpected

Ten years later.

“Grant…!” Asher shouted over and over again
until his throat was raw and he exhausted himself. “You told me to
look for you. Where are you? Tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

When the booming echoes of his voice grew
silent, he quietly listened, but the only thing he heard was the
sound of rain hitting the tin roof above. Disappointed, Asher
quietly turned and left the church. This year, it was no
different.

Once again he was leaving alone. Crossing
over the graves of his ancestors, mist circled his feet like
withering fingers threatening to pull him down into the infinite
black pits of obscurity. He had news for them though—he was already
there. This night, as he did every year on the anniversary of
Grant’s call, Asher Lake walked with his own demons.