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But I would bring it back as soon as possible.
All I could think about was if Kiam knew I had it. Was he angry? There was no way he was being honest with me, about what he was doing in that mansion.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense that he lived in that building and didn’t want me to know. His reasons for being so cagey were a mystery to me—what was he so scared of?
Duhhh, he has magical items.
Had he used a spell to make himself look so scary? A little thrill ran through me at the thought. I’d messed around with magic plenty of times in the past, but I'd never reached the sort of results it appeared he had, nor did I have any truly magical items of my own.
I always told myself I believed in magic, and I liked to think I did, but I never really believed in it. Not with the sort of faith that was unshakeable, not with the type of trust it took for it to be a daily part of life and practically taken for granted.
This was the most exciting shit that I’d ever experienced. More exciting than when grandpa “almost gave me a haircut with an airplane,” as my mother declared one Sunday afternoon.
All he’d wanted to do was blow me a kiss when he flew past and toss a box of Nerds out the window. He wasn’t that close.
Grandpa got grounded literally and figuratively that day, and I was gonna be in my own kind of trouble if I didn’t return the bone to its owner.
After I formulated what I hoped was a foolproof plan, I went to bed.
* * *
Normally, on a day like today, I would go out and scout antique shows and flea markets, along with my usual search in the woods for my inheritance. Instead, my nerves were completely shot, churning around like twisted wires in a mix of wonder, fear, and adrenaline.
It couldn’t be helped, I went back to my desk and examined the bone under my magnifying glass again, trying to soak up the tingling sensation while I peered at each sparkle, doing my best to memorize every facet of the experience.
Now that I knew there really was stuff like this out there, I was determined to search every end of the earth until I had my own powerful, one-of-a-kind, piece of sorcery.
Before I knew it, more than half of the day was gone. When I checked my phone, I almost knocked my chair over in my rush. Somehow, I’d lost several hours of time, and it was already noon.
My shower was rushed and I almost forgot to put deodorant on after I slathered my body lotion all over my skin. I missed several spots, but I told myself it was good enough.
Then I dressed and grabbed my gear, rushing out the door. My car was started and the radio turned down from my last drive before I had to hurry back indoors and grab the bone. My heart was pounding in my chest as I slammed the driver's side door shut a little too hard in frustration. I almost drove all the way over there without the fragment.
When I reached the parking lot, not only was my pulse trying to burst from my veins, but all of my senses were on high alert. I scanned every surrounding car, searching for anything that looked irregular—as if I would be able to tell.
I don’t know if I was watching for narrowed eyes with sinister smiles, or some dude in a wizard’s hat pointing a wand at me. Since this was Connecticut, if anyone was wearing a goofy hat and pointing something at me, it sure as hell wouldn’t be a plastic wand and it would definitely be something not safe for work.
Scowling mostly at myself, I exited my car and patted my hip, making sure the illicit item was still there.
The few cars around the lot were empty other than some guy eating a breakfast sandwich and listening to talk radio with his windows down. He didn’t seem like a threat, nor was he looking at anything other than his lap, so I jogged into the woods, letting the wall of greenery hide me from sight once I entered.
The woods were cool and dim, shadier than usual due to partly cloudy skies, and I was glad I’d thrown on one of my hoodies. The temperature difference between being on the asphalt and then under the cover of trees was significant enough to warrant the extra layer.
I flicked on my GPS, not that I really needed it at this point, and started making my way. A couple times, I poked around in the dirt when I saw something of interest. It couldn’t be helped. Despite the overwhelming urge I had to immediately return the theoretically stolen item to its rightful spot, my grandfather’s jewelry still, and always would, take precedence over anything else.
Dropping the short stick I was using to shuffle dead leaves around, I continued on my way until I heard a noise overhead. I listened intently before I could identify it as the beating of wings. Soon, a great, black cloud wound its way down past the treetops and whirled around me. I held my breath until it stopped, and then I glanced around.
Crows were everywhere. Watching. Waiting. Eyeing me with their shiny, ebony eyes. A chill ran up my back, worsened by the cool, damp air.
“Oh-kay guys,” I mumbled. I was deeply uncomfortable and looked down at the ground, carefully picking my next steps.
Sometimes, the wildlife acted funny. An overly friendly squirrel or a blue jay that wouldn’t move out of your way, once in a while a white-tailed deer that didn’t instantly spook. However, the sheer amount of crows surrounding me warranted concern—it went beyond anything that could be considered a one-off.
It was hard not to imagine that each one of the birds personally knew I had something in my pocket that didn’t belong to me. The atmosphere felt tight and heavy with the weight of accusation, and I imagined this was how a guilty person felt in court when they faced the judge.
Was I walking to the guillotine?
One of the crows separated from the others, hopping from branch to branch, pacing me. It was “talking” to me, making little crow sounds that weren’t cawing, but I didn’t know what to call them other than to imagine it was attempting to speak to me with some sort of urgency or trying to convince me of something.
