Raven and the Dancing Tiger (18 page)

"
Naw
, not Mrs. Petie-Peter," Jesse said. "The other one. The one you're running scared from."

"Tamara," Peter supplied.

Cai shivered, nervous.

"You said she's more than she seems."

Peter nodded. Maybe if he told Jesse everything, he'd back down, go away, be safe. "She's a tiger warrior."

"Get out." Jesse shoved Peter's shoulder. When Peter didn't say anything more or even crack a smile, Jesse sucked in a loud breath. "Y'all are serious. Holy shit. There are tiger warriors?"

"Hound, viper, and crocodile, too," Peter said blandly. "Typical of Ravens' Hall to never mention them."

"Damn," Jesse said. "
Ya
learned that from the prefect?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "Tamara…she seems determined to challenge me. Some kind of duel or something. That's how the tiger clan works. But the prefect said she couldn't, not without a good enough reason."

"Like?"

"Who knows? But an insult won't do."

"Huh." Jesse paused. "Tiger warriors.
Ain't
that something."

Peter nodded and took another sip of his beer.

"If you did fight '
er
, could you win?"

Peter shrugged. "Prefect didn't think so. Other raven warriors haven't, in the past."

"I bet you could," Jesse said. "You were strong. Fast. Smarter than the rest of us."

"Nah," Peter said, remembering Thomas. "There were others. Better."

"Don't sell yourself short, little man," Jesse said, bumping their shoulders together. "Besides, what else are you
gonna
do? Hide all the time? What about Mrs. Petie-Peter? Y'all got to get this Tamara bitch off your back."

"Yeah, but what can I do?" Peter asked. The waiting was killing him, but he didn't know what else he could do.

"Challenge her first," Jesse said promptly.

"What? Are you crazy?" Peter said. "I don't want to fight her at all."

Jesse snorted, snagged his beer and took another drink, then set it down on the table with a hard
thunk
.

"That's just you all over,
ain't
it? Won't fight the prefect, or your dad, and now this tiger chick."

"She'll. Kill. Me," Peter explained slowly, as if to someone not very bright. "You haven't seen the size of her claws."

"You're smarter than she is. I can
guaran
-damn-tee that," Jesse said.

Peter shook his head. "I'd still lose. Or be maimed for life."

"You're
gonna
lose if you don't," Jesse warned. "Your nest here. Mrs. Petie-Peter. Everything. Y'all
gotta
take a stand. Can't run scared all the time."

"Like you?" Peter cut back.

The temperature in the apartment seemed to drop by ten degrees suddenly. The silence froze and stretched on.

Finally, Jesse broke it. "Exactly," he said softly.

"Jesse, I'm
sorr
—"

"Nope. Y'all are right. I been running scared, too. Got more reason than you do," he added with a pointed stare.

Peter kept his eyes on Jesse's face, not allowing himself to even glance at Jesse's crooked left finger.

"But I
gotta
stop, too," Jesse said, turning away, folding his hands together.

"You want to stop here?" Peter asked, unsure if he meant just for the night or if it was an invitation for Jesse to stay.

"Here?" Jesse asked, cocking his head to one side and glancing at Peter sideways. "Awfully rainy."

"We'll go up into the mountains this weekend," Peter said.

"Mountains?" Jesse asked.

"Yeah. Miles of blue sky," Peter promised.

Cai cawed with excitement. He sent the picture of two ravens flying across the sky, wingtips almost touching.

"Tempting," Jesse said, nodding.

"Sleep on it," Peter told Jesse as he stood and stretched. It was after 2 a.m., and that 7 o'clock alarm was going to come sharp and hard.

"'
kay
," Jesse added as Peter pushed the coffee table out and unfolded the futon-couch into a bed.

"Anytime," Peter said casually. Then he straightened up and caught Jesse's eye. "Seriously. Anytime."

"Thanks, man," Jesse said. He held out his hand to shake Peter's and they ended up in a brief bro hug, Jesse's arm a tight bar across the back of Peter's neck.

Despite Peter's misgivings, despite the threat of Tamara, despite there being another presence in his apartment, Peter fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Or maybe it was because of the other presence.

* * *

Peter's alarm jarred him out of a deep sleep, but he knew he didn't dare snooze it: He'd already set it to the latest possible time he could get up and still make it to work on time.

After a military-brief shower, Peter dressed and walked into the living room.

Jesse still slept soundly on the futon, his dark skin pale against the white pillowcases.

Peter was surprised. He'd assumed Jesse wouldn't stay. He dug out his spare key from the bowl of change in the front hall and left it for Jesse with a twenty-dollar bill. Then he lightened the glyph at the door, leaving less presence behind. He didn't need to know every time Jesse came and went.

He checked his phone and cursed. His bus was early, and he was going to have to run to make it.

He still couldn't help but pause for one last time, whispering the old blessing over Jesse's sleeping form: "Strong winds and safe flight, my friend."

* * *

Though Cai assured Peter that no one was in this apartment, he still tried the glyph around the door jam. Jesse had passed through, on the way out, not very long before.

Still, Peter couldn't help but call out, "Honey! I'm home!" as he walked through the door.

No one answered. Peter walked into the empty apartment cautiously. The futon was folded up and the linens were in a neat pile on the coffee table. Jesse had obviously eaten both breakfast and lunch—probably toast, eggs, sandwiches, and the leftover pizza, as well as coffee—then washed his dishes and left them drying on the counter.

Peter grinned, but still double-checked the bedroom and the bathroom. Nothing seemed out of place, and Cai wasn't disturbed by anything.

It wasn't until Peter walked back into the living room that he finally noticed what was missing: Jesse's backpack.

Peter didn't know what that meant. Jesse had talked about living in the street, always keeping everything close, not trusting anyone or any place. Had he not trusted Peter? Or was he gone?

Peter walked around his apartment, restless, though Cai remained unruffled.

It was early, though. Not even 6 o'clock. Jesse was probably panhandling out in front of the grocery store with his buddies. He'd be back soon—Peter's spare key was also gone.

Peter pulled out his desk chair and sat down to waste an hour or so by killing some monsters.

When he turned on his monitor, it was obvious Jesse had been on his computer. Since Peter lived alone, he hadn't bothered to password-protect it.

His email program was open. He'd never bothered to sign out of his email account. Had Jesse sent email to anyone, poising as Peter? Then he looked more carefully at the page Jesse had left open.

His address book. Specifically, Tamara's address.

Cursing, Peter logged out and closed the program.

The open page had been hiding a note that merely said, "Gone to do your duty."

Peter didn't know exactly what Jesse meant by that, but he knew it couldn't be good.

* * *

Peter ran through the gathering twilight most of the way to Tamara's place. He deliberately stopped and walked the last block. He needed not to be out of breath. He also needed to pay attention, and that was easier when walking.

First, he walked down the street on the side where Tamara lived. No birds sang above him, not that he could ask them if they'd seen Jesse—the ability to talk with birds had been lost by the raven clan generations ago. The trees had come in more, providing more cover. He checked the boulevard for feathers, but didn't spy any that were black and sleek.

Tamara's building was old and made of faded brick, built in a U-shape, with two wings facing a center courtyard set back from the street.

For the first time, Peter stood and looked at where he'd barely escaped from. The window had been fixed; no glass lay glittering in the bushes underneath. It stood dark against the wall, no lights or candles lit inside. Even with Cai's sight he didn't see anything strange about her place, no charms or spells to divert his attention.

Peter took a deep breath, seeing if maybe he could find Jesse's scent. All he could smell was sweet tree sap and car exhaust. Maybe that was a good thing. No blood tinted the air.

Still, Peter walked to the corner, then around the block again, on the other side of the street this time: looking, seeking, but not finding.

Peter widened his search to include another block on either side. The growing dark made it more difficult to see birds in the trees. Cai helped as much as he could, though he also warned of hidden squirrels and more than one cat.

No Jesse, though.

Next, Peter walked up and down Broadway. He stopped at every panhandler, asking if they'd seen his friend. Of course, no one had. One younger guy claimed to know him, but said he hadn't been around for a couple of days.

In despair, Peter stalked by Tamara's place half a dozen more times.

Neither she nor Jesse showed up.

As the chill of the evening set in, Peter turned to go back him. Maybe Jesse hadn't had any luck finding Tamara, either.

It felt like giving up on him, though. Like he'd done at Ravens' Hall.

Peter took the long way home, taking another pass along Broadway, hoping to find Jesse there, disappointed but not surprised when he didn't.

He thought about calling Tamara, to warn her away from Jesse. However, he suspected that any warning he gave would have the opposite effect.

Cai gave a loud caw as Peter approached his building. When Peter raised his head and sniffed, he could trace Tamara's still-too-human scent lingering.

She'd been there, standing outside his apartment building, probably for a while. But she was gone now, no longer on the street.

A single, long black raven's feather lay in the center of the dirty white marble stairs of Peter's apartment building. Under it lay a note.

Challenge accepted.

Raven warrior training that morning left Peter feeling like he'd been in a battle.

Thomas hadn't been as gentle after the confrontation with Chris.

Before Peter could escape the Warrior Room after class, Prefect Kitridge asked him to wait. The other students shuffled out the door, casting curious glances back. Peter stood firmly, feet spread, arms crossed over his chest, wound tightly around Cai, bruised, tired, and hiding his fear. Sweat lay across his shoulders and lower back.

"All right. Now show me that move y'all were doing before," Kitridge demanded after she closed the door.

Peter approached her hesitatingly.

"I won't bite," she said, exasperated.

Peter nodded and got into position, pushing against her shoulder with his own. He let the tension build. She was so warm, much warmer than Thomas. Possibly stronger than him as well.

Then Peter
folded
in and stepped aside.

Kitridge tumbled past him gracefully, then turned and looked up at him from her seat on the floor.

"That's magic," she accused.

"What? No," Peter said, confused. He hadn't cast a spell or created some sort of charm. He hadn't used his hands at all.

As Kitridge stood, she slowly raised her hands from her waist and clasped them over her chest. Her warrior armor followed, encasing her body, fitting her as perfectly as a handmade glove.

Peter's human eyes couldn't see it. But Cai knew, and so did Peter, somehow. Kitridge's armor melded to her more closely than any other warrior Peter had ever met.

"Not many can raise the armor, now," Kitridge said, her voice deeper than usual, and also hollow sounding. "Oh, they can with help. You and I, we don't need no help."

"Can you fully transform? Into a full raven warrior?" Peter had to ask. He knew he shouldn't. It wasn't polite. He still had to know.

"No. Not since…" Her left hand flexed abruptly, then relaxed. "No."

Peter nodded his thanks.

"Again," she commanded, spreading her feet and getting into position.

Peter was going to be late to his next class. He opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head.

He couldn't deny her this.

There was nothing his human hands felt, nothing different about the prefect's skin. He still knew there was something else there, something changed about her, deep inside.

This time, when Peter
folded
, she tried to catch him.

She came away with a handful of black feathers.

Peter stood staring at her, shocked.

Cai puffed up and twitched, obviously shaken, but not hurt. He wasn't missing any plumage.

"Just for a second, too fast for anyone to see, you start to transform," Kitridge explained. "You're in that in-between state. That's why y'all smelled like armor."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

How was the armor related to his transformation into a raven? There were separate things, weren't they? Everyone had a raven soul. The glass armor was…different, wasn't it?

"Don't you know nothing?" she huffed.

Peter opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say.

"The armor. You take your feathers and spin '
em
into glass. That's how you raise it."

"Really?" Peter asked, surprised. That wasn't what it felt like at all. The armor just—rose over him. Like the feathers did. Protecting him. Making him safe.

"That's how they forged that glass sample in the Charms Room," she confirmed. "To be a full raven warrior, you need to stop, like you was doing. Something in between the full glass armor and raven."

Peter didn't understand what she was saying. Still, he assured her, "I didn't mean to use magic." He hadn't known at all.