The Girl and The Raven (10 page)

“We don’t know.” I can’t tell if he’s lying. I want to storm off, let him know how angry I am, but decide it’s better to keep him talking. “Okay, so back to Aiden. What’s the deal?”

He stares off, his excitement fading. “He’s mostly a go-between—a liaison—between Persephone and Henry and… someone evil. Big time evil.”

“The same person…demon…who’s after me?”

His shoulders rise and fall. “Maybe.”

I want to shake him. I’m so tired of the secrets! My stomach starts to churn as heat burns its way down my arms to my palms. My knees threaten to buckle from the intensity. I clench my fists, willing the heat to subside. I focus on the sound of the leaves, on the smell of rhododendrons. Anything to distract my power. Marcus studies the street again. Who—or what—is he looking for?

“Have you noticed anything missing from your room?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Nothing worth mentioning. No.”

He pushes away from the railing and takes two steps toward me. “Lucy, I need to know if
anything
is missing. You don’t get to decide what’s important and what isn’t.”

“It’s stupid—”

“Tell me!” He orders, his eyes hard as his nostrils flare.

I take a step back, shocked by his anger. “My brush…and a pair of socks.”

“Anything else?”

“No!” It was stupid of me to come up here with him. Some birthday this has turned out to be. “I want to go back inside. Now.”

“Fine!”

A powerful gust of wind swirls around me. I teeter as it shoves me backward, nearly lifting me off my feet. I cower as a creepy howl moves through the trees, the violent gusts bending branches with force.

“Marcus!” I scream and fling my arms out to him as an angry force pitches me against the railing. The heat is back, like a thousand burning needles driving into my arms at once. I try to clench my fists, but the power is too strong. Without warning, a fireball launches from my hand.
No!

My already-bruised tailbone slams into wrought iron. Searing pain flares up my back and down my legs. Stars dance across my vision. Then something powerful and
invisible
gives me another fierce shove and I’m sailing backward over the railing. Oh sweet Jesus. I am falling.

I try to scream. Fear sucks all the air from my lungs and what comes out is…nothing.

My heart is in my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m going to break my neck. I am going to die. I wait for my body to slam into the ground, for the excruciating pain that will follow.

I hear an odd sound, like the thawunk of an umbrella opening, and something grabs me. My eyes fly open. Marcus. I’m pressed against his naked chest. We’re suspended in mid-air. Two massive wings flank his torso.

He saved me. And…he has…
WINGS?

I cling to him, heaving as I try to fill my lungs. Once we land on the ground, his wings close around me and all thoughts flee from my mind. My shaking ceases. My chattering teeth grow still. The terror falls away. I know with absolute certainty that nothing bad can touch me. Not here in his embrace.

The feeling is short-lived. Marcus unwraps his wings and I stand on unsteady legs. The wind has died away, leaving the night unnaturally still. I am about to point this out when I notice a man dressed in black, with blond hair and an angry expression, standing behind him. Marcus spins around.

“It’s too soon,” the man says harshly.

Marcus returns his anger. “Easy for you to say, Aiden! Was I supposed to let her fall?”

“I’ll meet you inside.” Aiden stalks off toward the back yard. “Come alone.”

“Is he mad that you just saved my life?” I sputter.

“No. He’s angry because now you’re going to ask a lot of questions. The situation just became…complicated.”

“He’s right—I do have questions!” I move behind him and stare wide-eyed at his wings, which are tucked against his back. They’re covered with row after row of perfect white and gray feathers. When I touch them, Marcus flinches. I jerk my hand away. “Gram, Persephone and Henry are witches. Wh…what are you?”

Marcus’ fists clench at his sides. I move around him and see that his eyes are closed. “We were careless. Setting the alarm only works if he
enters
the house. Nothing was done to protect you in the yard or on the roof.” He shakes his head in disgust and opens his eyes. “You need to get inside before your uncles start to worry about you. You’ll be safer there.”

“But Marcus…” I stare at him in awe. “You have wings!”

“Go Lucy,” he growls. “Now!”

“Fine.” I spin around and march toward the front steps. Halfway there, I look back at him once more, meaning to thank him for saving me, but he’s gone. Probably following Aiden through the back.

Once inside, I paste a smile on my face and help Sheldon and Bernard finish cleaning up from the party. I thank them again for an awesome birthday.

After I wash up, change into my pink nightshirt and climb into bed, the reality of tonight washes over me. Something…
someone
…pushed me off the roof. It wasn’t Marcus. I watched him as I went over, saw the horror on his face as his outstretched hand missed mine by inches.

And how did I react? By nearly taking him out with a fireball.

Now Marcus knows my secret. I curl into a ball as the worst pain imaginable fills my belly. 

I press the heels of my hands against my throbbing temples. I don’t want to believe in witches and demons and security alarm spells. I don’t want to believe in a hot guy who suddenly sprouts wings. And yet, I know without a doubt that I have a horrible power. One that no normal person has. Just as I know that an invisible force or person or
something
pushed me off the roof tonight.

Tears spill down my cheeks. All I’ve ever wanted is to be normal. In Lexington, I wanted to not live in a trailer with a drunk, addicted Momma. Here I thought I would have a chance. But I’m still abnormal, set apart from my friends by some crazy twist of fate and genetics.

One thing is for sure. I don’t want to be afraid. Not anymore. A demon broke into my bedroom. Some invisible force threw me from the roof. I’m not going to sit around and wait for this thing to come after me. I have powers and they’re getting stronger. It’s time I use them.

Mr. Douglas sends his driver to pick me up for work, since I don’t have a car or a driver’s license. Arnold opens the back door of the black Lincoln Town Car and I slide onto the ice-cold seat. I shiver. It’s the fanciest car I’ve ever been in, with wood trim, chrome accents and lots of leather.

I am both excited and nervous about the new job. Excited because I can start saving to buy a car. Nervous…well, that’s an understatement. The Douglas’ are super rich according to Katie. Mr. Douglas acted nice enough when he met with my uncles, but I noticed him taking an inventory of the apartment. I suspect it wasn’t up to his standards. What would he do if he knew where I came from? Maybe he’d deem me unworthy to watch his kids and fire me.

“Nervous?” Startled, I look up and meet the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“No,” I lie, my voice unsteady.

He smiles. “It’s to be expected.”

“How long have you worked with the Douglas family, Mr….”

“Call me Arnold.” He smiles again. In fact, he’s been smiling since he picked me up. Way too cheerful, I decide. “I’ve been with the family for eleven years.”

“So you know Ethan and Brandi pretty well?”

“I do.” He chuckles. “Brandi is seven and totally adorable. You’ll fall in love with her immediately. Then there’s Ethan. He’s more charming than any ten year old ought to be.” Charming? I recall the scene at the beach with Dylan and cringe. “He had the last nanny wrapped around his finger. He’s known for getting his way, so watch out for him.”

Arnold looks out the driver’s side window before making a left turn. “Then there’s Dylan.”

Just his name sends me into a panic.

“You’ll only be looking after Brandi and Ethan,” Arnold clarifies. “Dylan lives with his mother, the original Mrs. Douglas. He’s sixteen. But he comes by sometimes to visit with Ethan and Brandi.”

“He does?” I ask weakly.

“Dylan’s a good kid. But he and his stepmom don’t get along, so he makes himself scarce whenever she’s around.” Arnold clears his throat. “Listen to me going on and on.” He glances at me again in the rearview mirror. “You’ll like working with them.”

I don’t want to think about Dylan. The Chicago skyline in the early morning light is the perfect distraction. I locate the Sears Tower, now called something else, and the Hancock Building.

Half an hour later, we pull into a large parking garage. It took longer than I expected to get here. Surely the Douglas’ can find a nanny who lives closer. Why did Mr. Douglas insist on hiring me? Then again I want the three hundred dollars a week, so I push that pesky question away. I wonder if I’ll make more today, since I’m starting early. To be honest, I don’t even care.

The elevator requires a special key card. After he swipes it, Arnold presses the button marked Penthouse. It seems to take forever to get to the Douglas’ floor. Once inside the penthouse, we take off our shoes—Mrs. Douglas’ rule. As he leads me to Mrs. Douglas’ study, it’s hard to keep my jaw from dropping.

From the entryway, there’s a huge living room off to the right, and a dining room straight ahead. As we pass the kitchen, Arnold points to a door which leads to a utility room, another which leads to a butler’s pantry, and still another which leads to a walk-in wine cellar. I fold my arms across my chest as I take in the artwork hanging on the walls and the statues set just so on various cabinets and tables, afraid my hands or elbows will clumsily knock something over. The fancy lighting. The hardwood floors. The thick carpets. I try not to focus on the fact that just one of those statues probably cost more than Momma and I spent on groceries in a year.

Arnold stops outside of Mrs. Douglas’ study. He knocks.

“Mrs. Douglas? I’ve brought Lucy to meet with you.”

“Thank you, Arnold.” Her voice is muffled through the door. “Come in, Lucy.”

I pause, my trembling hand reaching for the doorknob. I can turn around and leave. They’ll be mad, sure, but they won’t be out any money. I look up and meet Arnold’s kind eyes. He nods. I take a deep breath and walk inside.

Mrs. Douglas rises from the chair behind her desk and extends her pale, thin hand. I shake it carefully. Her blonde hair stops at her shoulders—exactly—and not a single strand is out of place. Her light blue blouse and jacket match exactly the color of her eyes and her white dress slacks are crisp and unwrinkled.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Douglas.” I make eye contact just like Bernard and Sheldon made me practice last night.

“It’s good to meet you, too, Lucy.” She turns back to her desk. “Here are your instructions, which we will review shortly.” She hands me a thin cream-colored file similar to the kind Henry uses at his office. My eyes are nearly blinded when the huge diamond ring on her left hand catches the light. I’ve never seen anything so large and wonder how she manages it with her tiny hand. “First, I would like you to meet the children.”

She wears high heels, even though Arnold told me we’re never permitted to wear shoes in the house. I guess the rule only applies to the help.

As we leave the study, Mrs. Douglas points down the hall to our right.

“The master bedroom and my dressing room are that way. There will never be a reason for you to enter either of those rooms. Is that understood?”

I bite my tongue and think hard about the car I’m going to buy with the money she’s paying me.

“Yes, Mrs. Douglas.”

I follow her as she heads left and we walk back to the living room, then go right, passing a room full of loaded bookshelves. A library?
The maid murdered the professor in the library with the candlestick.
I smile.

We pause in front of a door and Mrs. Douglas knocks.

“Brandi, I would like you to meet your new nanny, Lucy Walker,” she announces as we enter the little girl’s room. The room is adorable, with cream-colored walls and large pink wooden block letters spelling out her name. The canopy bed is made up with pink sheets and ruffles. Her comforter is filled with images of Disney princesses. A girl with disheveled dark blonde curls plays with Barbie dolls on the large pink and green rug in the center of the room. What I would’ve given to have this kind of set-up when I was her age.

“It’s nice to meet you, Brandi.” I crouch down to meet her at eye level.

She wipes the sleep from her eyes.

“Lucy?” Brandi asks as she cocks her head to the side. “You have a funny accent.”

“That’s because I’m from Tennessee. A state that’s about a ten hour drive south of here.”

“Ten whole hours?” Brandi’s eyes grow wide.

“You should show Lucy the map in the playroom after breakfast,” Mrs. Douglas suggests. “She can show you where Tennessee is in relation to Illinois.”

I’m surprised at how formally she speaks to her own daughter. No hugs or kisses either. Granted Momma and I rarely hugged, but that was different.