Page 10 of Corvus and the Broken God

While the open door let in some light to the cavernous room in the front of the house, the left-side corridor was much darker. I studied the ceiling. There wasn’t a single speck of light leaking in from above. He was keeping up with the roof, even as he ignored obvious repairs like windows. I flew to the end of the room and peeked down the hallway. The narrow hallway had an arched ceiling, an old-fashioned method for distributing the load of the roof. Everywhere I looked, I received confirmation it was much older than any other building on the continent. The long, narrow windows didn’t let in much light or fresh air, wide enough for an archer to protect the area between the outer wall and the main castle. Spaced out about twenty feet or more to my right were various styles of doors. They were all shut and too heavy for a bird to open. My excursion could be ending before I reached my destination.

At the far end of the long hallway was a giant wooden door.

The oak door was firmly shut, but this time, when I flapped my way up to the open rafters, I grabbed the wall’s edge easily. I was getting the hang of flying and landing, but the moment of satisfaction was brief. I didn’t want to get too comfortable as a crow. No matter how much I could love flying.

I surveyed the room below me. The fire had burned down to embers, and none of the candles were lit. The windows were covered in thick brocade curtains, so it took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. When they finally did, I spotted my Monster hunched over in one of the large chairs next to the fire. He looked almost peaceful, muscles relaxed except for a worry line on his forehead, so I studied him. His features were large, like everything about him, but even and strongly defined. Asleep he looked the most human, although I’d never tell him that.

Corvus, what do you want?

Shit. How did he know I was there?

Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.

He sat up. Well-sculpted arms reached up, and he indulged in a long, hard stretch.

No bother. He twisted his thickly muscled torso. I hadn’t meant to sleep here.

Is your friend gone?

He finally looked up at me. Friend? Chaac is no friend of mine. But in answer to your questions, yes, he is gone. For now.

I should’ve left. My mission had been accomplished, and I could report back to the Wolf that the Stranger was gone. My curiosity sated for now, and I was dead on my skinny feet. Instead, I watched him, his magnetism drawing me to him.

Why a crow?

Excuse me?

You could have changed me into any animal. Why a crow?

That was your choice.

What a cop-out. I had absolutely no choice in the matter. I knew it. He knew it. My anger grew as he smothered the last of the fire. I wasn’t sure why I had asked him about it in the first place, why I expected him to tell me the truth.

I am telling you the truth. Your form took on the characteristics most like you.

So, you’re saying I’m a pest.

He stopped cleaning the fireplace and turned to look at me. Really look at me. What little he could see.

What are you talking about?

Shit. He looked upset. Too bad. I was angry.

Crows are like rats with wings. They eat carrion. They’re noisy and make a mess. They are good for nothing but being exterminated.

He tilted his head as he considered my words. Curiosity softened his face. It made me madder. Then, to push me over the edge, he smiled. From my tight spot in the rafters, I could barely move, even though I wanted to hop and flap my ugly crow wings. I was close to losing control, only remembering at the last minute to do so was suicide.

What if I told you crows are highly intelligent animals, gregarious, caring, innovative, and, best of all, they can fly? I have always liked crows. They band together to take care of their young, have a highly evolved social structure, and, he paused, they are beautiful.

His words shocked me as I absorbed them. He clearly knew more about the birds than I did. Is a compliment from a Monster still a compliment?

He chuckled and walked out the door that led to the back section of the building, leaving me perched in my tight spot, wondering what had just happened.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Plan

I slept well for the first time since growing feathers, inexplicably convinced that if he meant to eat me and savor my fear, it would not be today. I settled into the tight space in the rafters after the echoes of his footsteps faded. Perched above the empty, echo-prone space, I would’ve been alerted had anyone approached, hence the restful sleep. Plus, I was tucked in so tightly, it would’ve been impossible to fall.