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Magic…
My throat locks up, and my heart punches at my ribs. Hurrying back to my blankets, I step into my boots and slide down the ladder without taking the time to tie them.
If Clara’s going to work magic out there in the dark, I want to see it. I want to know that part of her, too, and clip away those last lingering threads of doubt tickling the back of my mind.
I know Clara is good, I know it, but who knows what her mother, the witch, taught her growing up? She clearly never took her daughter to church. I had to show Clara everything about Mass—how to respond to the priest and all the prayers—the same way I taught her about chess.
There’s a real chance that Clara doesn’t know right from wrong.
At least, not the way I do.
I’m not spying on her so much as watching out for her. That’s what I tell myself. But creeping after her this way still makes me feel as if I’m taking something from her that she hasn’t offered.
She stops beneath a massive tree near the center of the orange grove, and I crouch behind a patch of tall grass not far away. The raven from earlier—the one that attacked us on the road, that I would have sworn I saw swooping away from the well when I went looking for Clara—emerges from the leaves.
It just…materializes from the darkness like a shadow come to life, and now I don’t feel wrong or guilty or anything but afraid.
“About time,” it croaks. “Thought you’d forgotten about us.”
I press a hand over my mouth, stifling the shocked huff rising in my throat.
The bird is talking. It really is.
“I had to wait until Adrina went to sleep,” Clara says gently. “I came as soon as I could. And I would never forget about you, Poke. You know better.”
The raven ruffles its feathers, but when it speaks again, it sounds somewhat mollified. “I know a few things. Can’t say if they’re for better or worse. I found an old boat on the far side of the island. It’s damaged, but with a little spit and will, we can fix it.” It motions to the north with one long, inky wing. “We’ll patch the holes tomorrow and test it in the water. Then, you leave it for the boy. Your debt will be paid, all even, and we can be on our way before the end of the new moon.”
“No, Poke. I’m not leaving Declan,” Clara says, her words warming me even though the fact that she has a familiar has my head spinning.
That’s what the bird is. It must be. It’s the only way to explain the talking. The raven is actually a demon in animal form, bound to Clara by magic.
I thought only witches could have familiars, not halflings, but apparently…I was wrong.
“He’s baggage,” the bird croaks as it hops across the ground. “Dumb, ugly, drooly baggage.”
I frown, deciding I don’t like this demon bird.
Not even a little bit.
“And dangerous, to boot,” it adds. I lean in, my ears straining. “What if his fairy mother comes looking for him? Hungry for a mouth full of blood? Hm? What then? Do you think she’ll take the time to sort out that you aren’t the one who stole her babe away? Fairies don’t talk, Glove. Fairies bite and kill and scatter the bones. You know that. Everyone knows that.”
“We don’t know that he’s Fey.” Clara crouches beside the bird, holding out a hand. A moment later, a tinier shadow I hadn’t noticed before climbs into her palm with a squeak. I’m too far away to know for certain, but my gut swears it’s the mouse from the tree, the one that watched me with too-clever eyes, which she’d pretended to be afraid of.
What are you up to, Clara? My throat aches, and a part of me wishes I’d fallen asleep the moment my head hit the hay. I know I have to get to the truth about Clara, but it would have been nice to enjoy the falling-in-love-with-her part a little bit longer. A day maybe. Two? For God’s sake, is that too much to ask? Just a little something simple and good before things get complicated and strange again.
The mouse squeaks, but if it’s talking, too, it’s doing it too softly for me to make out the words. Clara clearly understands it, however.
When it’s finished chittering, she whispers, “Exactly. I’ve heard of human women who were kidnapped by the Fey returning to the human world with their children, but never a man doing the same. And Declan’s father said his mother died in childbirth.”
“And you believe it? Just because he said it was so?” The raven gargles low in its throat in something like a laugh. “Humans lie as easy as breathing. More likely he killed his fairy wife and stole their baby away. And now the UnSeelie court seeks vengeance for his crime. I would bet a years’ worth of new moons that’s why his father spelled those wards, to keep his stolen son safe from the fairies. Poor nightmares are just getting caught in a net meant for other prey.”
