The Girl and The Raven

The Girl and the Raven

Copyright 2013 by Pauline Gruber

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Dragonfly Ink, Ltd.

P.O. Box 2042

Palatine, IL  60078

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN 978-0-9910774-0-3

E-ISBN 978-0-9910774-1-0

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Cover Art by Phatpuppy Art

Cover Design by The Bookish Brunette

Formatting by
Ironhorse Formatting

Author Photo by Sopho Studio

In loving memory of my mother,

Pauline Rohlf,

who proved that it’s never too late to pursue your dream.

This is how life as I know it ends. One minute I’m sitting on the couch, watching my favorite TV show, carefully avoiding the burned crater in the center cushion, a constant reminder of The Incident. The next minute…I hear tires crunch over gravel.

My head jerks toward the window as a tingling sensation crawls down my arms. I mute the TV and hold my breath, listening. Best-case scenario, it’s Ronny—the unemployed, soul-sucking boyfriend—dropping Momma off early. Or Mr. Bilmer, our next-door neighbor, arriving home from his weekly bowling night. Worst case? Best not to think about that. I reach under the cushion and retrieve my knife. My heart leaps into my throat when whoever it is tears off, sending rocks ricocheting off the side of our trailer.

I jump up from the couch, knife in hand and fling the door open. Glowing taillights retreat as I step onto the rickety wooden stoop. Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see her.

Not again.

Sure enough, I spot Momma dumped in a heap in the front yard. Ronny…soul-sucking scumbag.

It’s the thirtieth of May and Momma just got her monthly disability check. So what did she do? Buy groceries? Take me out to dinner to celebrate the end of freshman year? No. She couldn’t resist a party, especially one starring heroin.

“Come on, Momma.” I grab her by the shoulders and try to hoist her up, eager to get her inside. Mrs. Albright and Ms. Bigsby, the nosey bodies across the way are probably watching.

Momma’s stiff and heavy. And why does she feel so cool? I yelp as she slips from my hands and hits the ground with a solid thud.

What the...?

I stand frozen to the spot. I close my eyes against the sudden nausea. Goose bumps break out over my body. I swallow hard. Twice.

“Momma!” I force myself to grab her again, to shake her, ignoring what I already know to be true. “Wake up!”

Her body doesn’t move right. Doesn’t feel right. Bile fills my mouth and I lean over and spit onto the crunchy, dead grass. I run my hand along Momma’s throat to that spot where her pulse should be. Nothing. My breaths are jerky, out of control.

“Come on, Momma! Please!”

I grab her thin wrist with my trembling fingers and press hard, desperate to feel something.

No…no…no!

I lay her arm across her belly and race to the trailer next door, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.

“Mrs. Bilmer!” I pound my fist on the flimsy door. “Mrs. Bilmer, it’s Lucy!”

A light comes on and I hear the shuffle of slippers on linoleum.

“Mrs. Bilmer, please! I need your phone!”

“Don’t you go beating down my door, Lucy Walker!” she says, opening the door a crack. “What's the matter? Problems with your momma again?”

“Call 911!” I choke. “Call them right now!”

-Persephone-

I perch on an old beige Buick that hasn’t run in years and watch the scene warily. No one will notice me. Not in my animal form. My wings ruffle as a breeze passes over me. I wait and watch, as I have for years. A spotted male cat, much larger than your average domestic variety, appears from beneath the car. Henry has arrived. Around his mouth are traces of blood and his tail twitches from his recent kill. I study him for a moment.

Henry’s green eyes look up at me and narrow. With the slightest nod, I alert him to the approaching ambulance before his sensitive feline ears swivel to pick up the high-pitch wail.

The ambulance tears down the gravel road, stopping at the correct location thanks to Mrs. Bilmer’s frantic waving. The paramedics make a valiant effort to resuscitate Lucy’s mother. Afterwards, they slam their rear doors and drive off slowly with Donna Walker inside.

Lucy sinks to the ground, sobbing, her hands stroking the area of earth where her mother laid a few minutes ago. I want to change form. I want to go to her, pull her into my arms and comfort her. But I can’t. Not yet. I need to ease her into this slowly.

Mrs. Bilmer finally convinces Lucy to go inside. It’s time to call the only family Lucy has left.

I fly down from the car and Henry and I stand side by side on the ground, shielded between the old Buick and a derelict trailer. I will the change to come on and my body starts to tremble. Glancing at Henry, I see that he is about to change form as well. I close my eyes, but not before I see the streak of lightning flash across the sky and hear the rumble of thunder. I smile to myself. Henry has always been jealous of my effect on the elements.

“Persephone.”

I turn at the sound of my name and study Henry. His compact, muscular build is in direct contrast to his intelligent, green eyes and gentle demeanor.

Disgusted by his lack of control in feline form and nauseated by the smell of blood, I tell Henry to wipe his face. I run my hands down my simple black cotton dress, enjoying the feel of the fabric beneath my sensitive fingertips.

“My apologies…low on protein for the day.” He pulls a hanky from the pocket of his khakis and wipes away all traces of his recent meal.

“We should have gotten here sooner,” I tell him, my eyes fixed on the trailer Lucy disappeared into. “Several years sooner.”

“Vera knew what she was doing.” Henry calmly picks bits of grass off his beige polo shirt.

“She’s been gone–what–two years now? We should’ve broken our promise…” I close my eyes and cock my head. “Lucy has called her uncles. We’ll need to move quickly.”

“
He’s
going to know it the second she arrives in Chicago.” Henry turns to me, his expression grave. “For all we know, he can sense her. Now that Donna’s gone, the protections are gone…”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t see this coming.” Henry nods toward the grassy spot where Lucy’s mother had been, his voice catching. “I had no idea Donna was—”

“Oh, Henry…don’t you see?
He’s
behind this. He finally tracked them down. He vowed not to stop until he found Lucy.”

Henry rises to his full height. “He won’t hurt her, Persephone. I promised Vera—”

“Vera died trying to protect Lucy. Clearly her way doesn’t work. If we’re to succeed and see to it that Lucy lives long enough to inherit what’s rightfully hers, then we’ve got to go at this differently.”

“And I presume you’ve worked something out?” he asks, his eyes shining brightly for the first time tonight.

“I have, indeed.”

After watching the Bilmer’s trailer a while longer, making sure that everything is in order, I close my eyes, my body trembling as I fold down into a crouch. Henry reaches over and squeezes my hand for luck. A moment later, as a flash of lightning tears across the sky followed by rolling thunder, I take off in flight. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I scan the ground until I locate the exotic cat, its camel-colored coat and leopard spots slinking off into the night.

The flight to Chicago scares me to death, mostly because every time I close my eyes I see Momma. The way I found her in the yard. Her lifeless body and pale, cold skin. The hours before when she shouted at me for doubting her. Hands on her hips, face twisted in anger. But I knew she couldn’t stay clean.
I knew it.

I exhale heavily and try to focus on happy memories. I smile as I remember when she worked as a waitress at a diner near downtown Lexington. Sometimes she would bring home leftover pie. Lemon meringue and coconut cream were our favorites. I would race to the kitchen and grab two forks. We’d share it sitting on the couch, Momma still in her uniform, the smell of grease and cigarettes pouring off of her.

The plane lurches, sending my stomach in a nauseating somersault. I throw my hands out on instinct. With a gasp I jerk them back and tuck them between my legs. My hands are more dangerous than turbulence.

If Gram were here, she’d hold my hand and promise everything’s going to be all right. I close my eyes and fight the heaviness threatening to suffocate me. Gram’s dead. Momma’s dead.
Nothing’s going to be all right ever again.

I stay like this, eyes closed, breathing four-counts in through my nose and four counts out through my mouth until we land. With my purse and book clutched in my arms, I follow the other passengers off the plane and make my way to the baggage claim, my uncles and my new life.

“Lucy!”

Uncle Bernard walks toward me, waving like a maniac, a huge smile on his face. He’s thinner than the last time I saw him, which I don’t like. He’s still a stylish dresser, though, in his short-sleeved, white button down shirt and colorful vest. I pretend not to notice the sadness in his big brown eyes as I fold myself in his embrace and relish the warmth of his hug.

“It’s so good to see you, Luce,” he murmurs into my hair. “Let’s head over to carousel eight. Sheldon's waiting for us there.”

“It’s great to see you, Uncle Bernard.” My voice sounds strangled as I fight the sudden urge to cry. I’m so tired of crying, so I try for a happy subject. “I can’t wait to see Lola. It’s been a few years, do you think she’ll remember—“

“Listen to that twang of yours.” He chuckles as he grabs hold of my hand and pulls me along. I glance at him, offended that he cut me off. He and Sheldon know how much I love Gram’s raven. She’s the only pet I’ve ever had. “I told you, just call me Bernard. For Pete’s sake, you’re almost sixteen!”

My heart and stomach clench painfully at the sight of Sheldon. His brown hair is heavy with gray, just like Gram’s, and he has her hazel eyes. I miss her all over again. Sheldon, who prefers comfort to style, wears his standard uniform of blue jeans, t-shirt and belt. Today’s shirt features the Golden Gate Bridge. He rushes over, pulling me into a bear hug. His eyes are filled with tears when he pulls away.