Reaper: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 2) (21 page)

I
had never been so
happy to see the faded “Welcome to Crookshollow, the Most Haunted Village in England” sign in my life.

“I can’t believe we made it,” Byron muttered, as he turned down the high street. He’d been behind the wheel for the past two hours, which meant I was stretched out across the back seat, trying to get some much-needed sleep. But every corner slammed my head against the window, so all I had to show for my convalescence was a large lump on the back of my skull.

“I thought for certain we were going to be stuck at that repair shop in Crooks Crossing for the rest of eternity.” Ingrid said.

“I can’t believe you didn’t pack a spare tyre.” I grumbled at her.

“I wasn’t exactly planning a cross-country road trip before you boys showed up.”

“Could you both shut the fuck up?” Byron pounded the wheel with his fist. “I have a killer headache. Cole, do something useful and direct us to the wedding.”

I glanced at the dashboard clock. 2:55pm. The ceremony would be starting at 3:30pm. The guests would already be arriving. We didn’t have much time.

“Take a left up here,” I pointed past Byron’s ear. “You’ll see a sign for Carlisle Hall. It’s about five miles up that road. A big, run-down Georgian house – you won’t miss it. We should park further away, though. In the forest. I think that’s where Morchard will be hiding.”

I’m coming, Belinda. I’m coming.

A
t 2pm we
transferred operations to Carlisle Hall. I would be missing the ceremony in order to put the final touches on the dinner and help instruct the serving staff. It was just as well, I didn’t think I could live though watching a happy couple make their vows to one another in my delicate emotional state.

Libby looked radiant as she left Raynard Hall. Her makeup team had done an amazing job. You couldn’t tell she’d spent the morning locked in the bathroom puking her guts out.

With Alex and Ryan helping, I managed to finish the cake. It was perhaps the most complex – and definitely the most interesting – cake I’d ever made. Libby wanted it to be more than just a dessert, she wanted a kind of edible sculpture to greet the guests as they entered the reception hall. Well, she got it.

With Simon’s help I set up the five-layer cake on its designated table. It looked stunning, bedecked with red ribbons and skull-shaped fondant balls. On the top, a skeletal bride and groom, entirely carved from chocolate, sat astride a white fondant horse. The horse carried a ribbon in its mouth, which read “Til Death Do Us Part.”

Til Death Do Us Part.
How appropriate for a vampire wedding.

As I stood back to admire my handiwork, Simon signalled me from the front of the marquee. “The horde is descending,” he said in his deadpan voice. I peered over his shoulder. Sure enough, the guests were making their way from the ceremony site in the garden to the marquee. Panic rose in my chest. Was everything in order? Had I prepared every element of every course? How many vegans were there, again?

A hand clamped down on my shoulder. “You’re going to be fine.” Simon said.

I sucked in a long, slow breath. I hoped he was right. “Well, don’t just stand there. Go, go!” I clapped my hands, and the wait staff rushed outside with trays of champagne to greet the guests.

I
ngrid hadn’t even turned
the engine off when I threw open the door and bolted into the forest. “Cole, wait!’ Byron called after me, but I was already mid-shift. My clothes fell away as my bones cracked and reformed, and I swooped higher into the trees. I’d cover ground much quicker and have much keener sight as a raven.

The white peaks of the marquee towered over the unkempt lawn, which sloped gently down the side of the house towards the forest. I knew from what Pax had told me that Victor was hiding somewhere in the forest, and it made perfect sense – the dense trees would hide whatever surprise he had waiting, until it was too late.

Wings flapped behind me. I craned my neck and saw Ingrid and Byron flying behind me, fanning out in a wide arc as they scanned the forest for signs of Morchard.

Something stirred on the edges of my hearing. A loud croaking, like a hundred frogs debating Nietzsche around a pond. Only there weren’t any ponds in this part of the forest.

Down there.
I gestured with my wing towards a thicket of trees, where the noise seemed to be coming from. Byron was closest, and he entered the thicket first.

I see something!
Byron called back to us. I dived into the canopy, ducking and diving as branches snapped against my body. The croaking drummed in my ears, louder and louder ...

I emerged into a small clearing where an ancient oak had fallen, the once-mighty trunk rotting away. Behind it – strapped to two thick trunks so the sheer force held within wouldn’t lift the entire structure – stood a tall cage. Made from steel and toughened glass, it loomed like some kind of industrial sculptural installation amidst the pristine nature of the woods.

Inside the cage, hundreds of black ravens flapped and dived and croaked. Like a great biblical plague, they swarmed together in a thick, black cloud of shadow. Hundreds of beady eyes stared back at us as we regarded the horrid sight. The ravens were clearly deranged, their eyes bugging with hunger, their talons dripping with blood and gore as they tore apart their own kin in the chaos. A thick, viscous fluid dribbled from their beaks. They slammed against the glass, cracking their own bones in their frenzy to escape.

I listened hard, trying to separate one single voice from the din, trying to comprehend their thoughts. But not a single one spoke in caw-tongue, not one reached out to communicate with us. They were too far gone for that.

They were sick.

There was no doubt about it. These birds had been pumped full of drugs, starved and left here to fend for themselves, possibly for days. I noticed what was left of a water dish at the bottom of the cage, overturned, riddled with holes, and nearly completely hidden beneath the carcases of several dead ravens.

I knew only one man diabolical enough to do this. But where was he?

There was no Morchard in sight. I did a circuit of the clearing, just to be sure. But he wasn’t hiding behind one of the thick trunks, nor cowering beneath the rotting oak. He wasn’t here.

But that didn’t make any sense. Morchard would want to watch the results of his revenge. He’d take great pleasure in seeing these monstrous birds devouring Gillespie and Libby and Belinda and all of the guests. So where was he?

“Morchard will be closer to the house, I bet,” I told Byron. “But then how will he let the birds out, if Pax isn’t going to do it?”

“Cole, look.” Byron tapped a black box with his beak. I flew over to inspect it. It appeared to be the cage’s locking mechanism. A large timer was counting down seconds. There were less than two minutes remaining.

Shit.
We had just two minutes and forty-two seconds to figure out how to keep those birds inside that cage.

“What do we do?” Ingrid asked.

“We’ve got to get inside the box.” I tapped furiously on the keys, trying to find a disarm button, but of course Morchard had it password protected. “Maybe there’s a way to disable the lock release.”

Ingrid flew behind the panel, and started digging at the screws that held the casing on with her beak. Byron joined her, and they wiggled and scratched at the screws in a vain attempt to shift them. I wished we’d thought to bring a toolkit, like Alex had when we broke Belinda free from Morchard Castle. I attacked the keys with my beak, trying all the passwords I knew Morchard used, hoping one of them might get us in. But nothing.

The seconds ticked by. 1:35 … 1:34 … 1:33 …

“I’ve got mine!” Ingrid cried triumphantly. She hopped over and started attacking the other screw.

The screen blinked angrily at me. PASSWORD INCORRECT. I slammed my foot down on the keyboard with enough force that two of the keys pinged off.

0:54 … 0:53 … 0:52 …

“Cole, we can’t get this one, it’s too tight.” Byron moved back to the open corner and jammed his beak inside. “I see some wires. I don’t know what goes to what—”

“It doesn’t matter. Just start cutting them!” I yelled, panic rising in my chest.

“If you say so.” Byron shoved his head inside. There was a sharp electronic BUZZ, and Byron flew backward, toppling off the box and landing in the leaves below. A cloud of black feathers floated down after him.

“I’m OK,” he called back, struggling to his feet. The scant feathers remaining on his body stood out at odd angles.

“Cole, the clock!” Ingrid cried.

I turned around. Whatever wire Byron had cut had jumped the clock forward. It was now counting down from 00:10 … 00:09 … 00:08 …

No.
We were out of time. Which meant Belinda was doomed, unless I could get to her first. I unfurled my wings and took off, zooming towards the marquee with all the speed I could draw up.

“Cole, fuck!” Byron yelled after me, but I didn’t slow down, didn’t look back.

Belinda was in that tent, and I had to find her.

T
he next two
hours passed by in a whir of activity. I rushed between the kitchen and marquee, checking dishes, instructing staff, rearranging the displays on the buffet. Libby and Sir Thomas arrived from their photography session, she fresh of face and laughing, and he stoic, his smile in his eyes. They looked so happy together.

I hated them with the fire of a thousand suns.

Enough of that.
I scolded myself as tears started to form in my eyes.
Back to work.

While the guests were enjoying the first course, I had a few minutes to visit with my friends. Libby had seated them all at the same table, near one of the marquee windows. Ryan had rolled up the window, so a cool breeze blew in, ruffling the pristine table linens and towering floral arrangements. I felt a twang of jealousy as I watched them all toast and laugh as they dug into the food. It would have been nice to be able to enjoy the wedding with them, instead of working, but needs must when HMRC comes knocking.

“Hey everyone,” I said, standing behind Alex and waving awkwardly. “I only have a few minutes, but—”

“Belinda, this food is amazing.” Elinor gushed. I noticed she’d already cleared her plate.

“You have a rare talent,” Bianca agreed. “I fucking hate peppers, but I’ve had four of yours.”

“You love goat cheese, though. That probably helps.”

“Probably—hey, Eric. Fuck off!”

“Can you come on tour with us?” Eric grinned, stealing the last stuffed pepper from Bianca’s plate and shoving it into his mouth.

“Come on, Belinda. Sit with us for a few minutes.” Ryan stood up, offering me his chair with a flourish. “I’ll get us some more drinks.”

“Well …” I sank into the chair, my face breaking out in a grin. The girls applauded, and Ryan pressed a glass of champagne into my hand. “How was the ceremony?”

“Beautiful. Sir Thomas cried during his vows. It was so gorgeous.”

“It’s been the perfect day.” Elinor gushed. “It’s just a pity about those rainclouds.”

“I haven’t seen any rainclouds,” Alex said. “And the forecast was fine all day.”

“That’s what I thought, but look over there.”

I looked where she was pointing. Sure enough, a low, dark cloud was moving in over the forest, casting a grey shadow across the lawn as it hurtled towards the marquee.
Odd,
I’d never seen clouds move that fast before.
And what was that strange noise ...

“Those aren’t rainclouds,” Alex cried, pointing. “Look!”

Fear clenched my stomach. The dark cloud rolled closer, and as it did it appeared to break up into pieces. Tiny black dots appeared on the edges, soaring and dipping.

I’d seen that cloud before. It wasn’t a cloud at all. It was the unkindness of ravens, coming straight for us.

“Take cover!” Ryan yelled. He grabbed me and Alex, dragging us under the table. All around us, wedding guests scrambled to find a hiding place. Chairs toppled over, glasses smashed, women screamed. I peered out from behind the white table cloth at the unfolding chaos as dignitaries, royalty and celebrities rushed around in a panic, and the security team Sir Thomas had hired marched forward, rolling up their sleeves as though they intended to punch the birds into submission. Bianca and Elinor peered out from under the tablecloth beside me, their eyes wide.

With a horrifying screech, the ravens slammed against the side of the marquee, tearing through the thick canvas like it was butter. They spread out across the huge space, croaking with glee as they pulled up the tablecloths, smashed into the floral arrangements, and ripped down the fairy lights. Their wings beat up a furious wind, and that horrible croaking of hundreds of hellish birds sent shivers of terror down my spine.

“Don’t let them bite you!” I yelled at my friends. One raven swooped under our table. Elinor screamed and kicked it with her heel. It bounced across the tiles, hit a tent pole, and flopped to the ground, stunned.

On the other side of me, Alex screamed. Another raven had tangled itself in her hair. It croaked with rage, beating its wings frantically as it tried to free itself. I grabbed it behind its wings and tugged it. Alex screeched as it tore chunks of her hair with its talons, but it came free in my hands. I fell backward, and the bird whipped its head around and jabbed me with its beak, taking a chunk of flesh from my arm.

Pain arced through my body. A creeping warmth swept up my arm. I fell back, grasping the cut, as the full horror of what had happened settled in my mind.

I’d been bitten by one of Morchard’s birds. I was going to die. It was as certain as the sun rising or Cole being hot. Tears sprung in my eyes.
No.
I wiped them away angrily.
This can’t be it. It can’t be all over. I have to do something. I have to stop him.

“Belinda, are you …” Elinor’s voice trailed off as she saw my clutching my arm. Her stricken face confirmed my fears. “Oh, shit.”

“We don’t have time,” I said, gritting my teeth against the pain. “We have to get these people to safety.”

“You don’t have to do anything. You’re running to the car,” Ryan yelled. He leapt into the air, forcing his change. His tuxedo tore in half as his shoulders shifted, his body forming the lithe and lethal fox. He leapt into the fray, his jaws snapping, his claws raised. Ravens croaked with terror as their blood splattered across the white tablecloths.

Alex grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the entrance. I forced my legs to move, racing after her. Every step drove home the inevitable truth.
I’ve been bitten. I’m a dead baker walking.

We cleared the tent and followed a frenzy of screaming guests as they fled across the lawns towards the house. Alex paused to kick off her heels, then yanked me along. My breath screamed in my lungs.
We’re nearly there. We’re nearly—

Something grabbed the back of my dress, yanking me backward. I tried to wriggle away, but it held on tight. Panic surged through me, and I threw up my hands to protect my face. My blood pounded in my ears.

“I warned you!” The voice hissed.

I whirled around, and came face-to-face with Ethan. Only it wasn’t Ethan any longer. His face was scratched and burned in places, his eyes bugged out like saucers. He lunged at me with his mouth open, blood dripping from two long fangs.

“You’re a … a vampire.” I gasped.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” He grinned, grabbing my shoulders with thin, bony fingers.

“But … but how?”

“It was all Clive’s fault,” Ethan hissed. “The authorities were on to us, so we had to leave Lichtenstein. He said he knew someone in Leeds who could hide us for a while, all we need is a ride. So we drag some deadbeat-looking guy from his car, only the fucking weirdo is some kind of martial-arts genius. He tears us up pretty bad, then bites us. I wake up, hours later, looking like this, craving blood. The guy had left his car behind, so we took it and headed for Loamshire, just outside of Crookshollow we saw a young guy walking on the road. He had posh clothes on, so Clive decided to rob him. We park the car and get out, tackle the guy and take his wallet and school satchel. And before I know it, my teeth are in his neck and I’m sucking him dry.”

The pieces were starting to fall into place. “The guy on the road. Was it Harry Morchard? Is that why you were at Morchard Castle?”

Ethan grinned wider. “I passed out again, and we all woke up with this intense longing for blood. I knew things were bad. That little twerp said we could hide at the castle, that his dad knew all about vampires and medicine, and he could probably find us a cure. Instead, his father shot Clive and I full of drugs and kept us prisoner. You can’t imagine it, Belinda. This unrelenting, unceasing thirst ...”

The room across from mine … the banging … the three men skulking around the courtyard. Ethan was at Morchard Castle while I was, a trapped vampire ...

“Let her go!” Alex cried. She tried to prise Ethan’s arm off me. Ethan’s nails dug into my shoulders, and he bared his teeth to me. I whimpered.

“Morchard let us out today. He told us if we came here and bit some guy named Cole, he’d cure us of this thirst. And if we don’t, he’ll kill us. So here I am,” he grinned maniacally. “I’m looking for Cole. Have you seen him? Morchard said you’d know where he was.”

I tried to tackle Ethan off me, but he held me down tight, his teeth snapping just above my neck. I wrestled with him, managing to free one of my hands. Alex grabbed me and tried to drag me backward, but Ethan punched her in the face, and she went down, blood spurting from her nose.

“Not so fast.” Ethan hissed in my hair as he bundled me into his arms, trapping my hands in a vicelike grip. “Morchard gave me special instructions about you, as well. You’re coming with me.”