The Girl and The Raven (36 page)

Darcy rises from her spot at Jude’s feet and snarls but Jude laughs with delight. “Lucy, my darling, you really are a little devil.” Jude pushes away from his desk and moves toward the patio door. “Come with me.”

Dylan and I follow him outside. Darcy does, too, her eyes fixed on Dylan.

The cool night air relieves my burning skin. Was it only a few hours ago that Marcus and I were taking photos with Sheldon and Bernard? Homecoming, school, my friends, normalcy…it all seems ages ago. Dylan reaches for my hand again and I grip him like a lifeline. As much as I hate it that he’s now part of this, having Dylan here is helping me keep a grip on what is actually normal and real and important. Now that all of my powers have been awakened, I recognize the energy flowing between us. And I can feel his feelings just as strongly as my own. Fear, anger, resolve, love, betrayal, fear, courage…they bounce between us. It’s so powerful it fills me up and it hits me. I love Dylan, too. I don’t know how it happened and I don’t know what will happen because of it. But, I’m getting the three of us the heck out of this horror fest.

We stop at a familiar spot.

“Let’s go up.” Jude gestures to the roof. “I’ve got a friend keeping an eye on your gargoyle.”

Friend? What friend?

Dylan looks from Jude to me. “Yeah, sure, we’ll just fly up there.” 

Jude winks at me. “Oh, the things Lucy will teach you.” Then, in the blink of an eye, he throws Dylan on his back and starts climbing. Within seconds, they’re over the ledge. Without a direct connection, I can’t tell what Dylan’s feeling anymore, but I’m guessing his thoughts have a lot of expletives in them right now. Jude pops his head over the railing and gestures for me to join them. Taking a deep breath, I place my fingertips against the rough brick. I dig into the crevices and allow the darkness inside to expand. I’m coming off this roof with Marcus and Dylan, and Satan better help the demon, shapeshifter, witch or mortal who gets in my way.

Reaching the top, I hop over the ledge, landing soundlessly. The outdoor lights staggered around the rooftop illuminate Dylan’s thunderstruck expression. I reach for his hand and squeeze it before turning to scan the area. My heart sinks when I see a familiar stone gargoyle sitting fifty feet away, propped precariously on the ledge. Marcus. He’s not alone. Next to him, the white-haired woman from the photo in Marcus’ kitchen drawer stands guard. Daphne. Tonight the streaks in her hair are pink.

“Why is she here?” I ask.

“We have a common bond. We both view Marcus as a nuisance,” Jude says. The two of them lock gazes as if mentally toasting one another.

Jude nods toward Marcus. “A late birthday gift for you. Sorry I didn’t wrap him. I’m new to this father thing after all. I’m afraid he’ll never be human again, but he’ll make a lovely decorating piece.”

Never be human again? Tears spring to my eyes. I’m overwhelmed by the thought of never feeling Marcus’ arms around me, or hearing his voice, or tasting his kiss.

“Turn him back.” My heart beats painfully in my chest. Every nerve ending in my body screams.

“Better take him soon, Lucy.” Jude levels his dark glare at me. “I would hate to see what would happen if he fell. Stone versus concrete from this height would be very…crushing.” Daphne smiles and presses herself against Marcus. The gargoyle teeters.

The raging energy comes to life instantly. It’s burning a hole in my chest.

“Get away from him,” I growl.

“Lucy…” Dylan reaches for me.

I brush his hand away as I confront Jude, my fists clenched at my sides. “Why do you hate me so much?”

My father stares at me, his anger replaced with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

I laugh, an unfamiliar bitter sound. “Oh my God! Really? You killed Gram. You ruined Momma. You tried to kill me twice. Twice!” The words struggle to escape my burning throat. “I don’t want to see you or talk to you ever again. Just give me Marcus, and I’ll disappear like the wind!”

Jude flinches at my words. Suddenly the fire is gone from his eyes. His lips turn down like a tragic clown. It’s a moment before I realize that my words aren’t my own. They came from Momma’s letter to Jude. And he recognized them.

He did read her letters. Then he resealed them and sent them back. I imagine Momma’s pain every time one of her letters was returned. Letter after letter. I wrap my arms around myself tightly.

Jude just stands there, for once, at a loss for words. I look at Marcus and cock my head. I inherited some of my powers from Jude. Can I undo what Jude has done? I don’t have anything close to his level of power, but maybe whatever passed to me from Lola will make up the difference.

I have no idea what I’m doing, but anything is better than nothing.

“Return the gargoyle to his human form,” I whisper. “Return the gargoyle to his human form.” I repeat this again and again, focusing all of my energy, all of my power on him. I give it all. I love him. I gasp as white light radiates from my fingertips—white light, not fireballs. Gram’s powers? I raise my hands and point them toward Marcus.

The love of my life.

The white light spits off my fingertips and dies. My muscles spasm and I realize I’ve been clenching everything in my body in an effort to focus my power. My limbs go limp. I can’t do this.

“If you had been working with me instead of running around with this creature, you’d be able to channel your energies properly,” Jude chastises.

I turn to him, exhausted and desperate.

“Change him back,” I beg. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll train with you every day. I…I’ll quit working for the Douglas family.” I hear Dylan’s sharp intake of breath behind me. I know he’s thinking of Ethan and Brandi. I ignore the stab of pain. I need to think about Marcus.

Jude walks toward the access door. “No.” He cocks his head and a shiver runs down my spine. That mannerism is identical to mine. “Hmm, that really is an awful thing to have to say to your child.”

“Please fix him!” Tears of desperation fill my eyes and spill onto my cheeks. “Marcus saved my life. Twice. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him!”

Jude pauses.

“If you want him, you’ll use your powers and take him as he is.”

“I don’t think so, Jude. First, I get the birds,” Daphne says.

Jude’s posture stiffens and his eyes—hard as marbles—flick to Daphne.

“What do you have to do this this, anyway?” I roar. “Why don’t you—”

Daphne laughs. The tinkling high-pitched sound nags at my brain. “I helped land this loser freak.” She jerks her thumb toward Marcus. “In exchange, I get your grandmother’s bird. Oops. I forgot. A second one showed up, but it doesn’t seem to have anywhere near the power as the first one.” Daphne steps closer, the light catches her face just right—her lethal expression—and memories flood my brain. A deep blue gown. White hair. And a tinkling high-pitched laugh. Uncle Zack on the yacht. The woman drinking champagne.

“You knew Uncle Zack!” I gasp. “Or should I say, my
brother
.”

Jude eyes blaze with curiosity. “How did you—?”

I narrow my eyes at Daphne. The splintered details assemble themselves. “You were on the boat that night. The night Zack died.”

Her hand flies to her mouth and her head flicks from me to Jude. She takes a cautious step backward.

“What’s this?” Jude looks like a predator that’s just scented its next prey.

“Seamus is your father. He blamed Jude and my grandmother for ruining his life, because Gram left him…” I turn to Jude, “for you.”

Jude’s expression turns murderous. “Seamus McAllister is your father?”

“She’s lying!” Daphne shrieks.

“Lying?” His voice is soft—dangerous—as he takes a step toward her.

I struggle to hang onto the memories. “You were the voice in Zack’s ear for weeks, telling him he had to get away from Jude, that Jude was going to consume him, take him away from his mother, from everything that made him feel safe.” Daphne’s eyes dart around the rooftop as she continues to back away. “You talked to him on the yacht that night. Convinced him that he should jump…that he could swim to shore. You knew he had Asperger’s Syndrome. That he fixated.” I shout at her. “You drove him to jump off that stupid boat. You killed him!” The pieces suddenly fit. Everything Zack had been trying to tell me in my dreams. It wasn’t Jude who wanted me dead. “And now Seamus is trying to kill me.”

She shrinks as Jude approaches, her entire body trembling.

“You killed my son? My first born?” His voice is strained, like a tightly pulled rubber band. “And now Seamus is trying to kill my daughter?”

“It’s not true…not about Zack.” Her eyes dart around, looking for an escape. “I’m sorry, Jude. I…I should’ve told you about Seamus. He made me promise. He—” Jude raises a finger. She snaps her mouth shut. He bends his finger to point it directly at Daphne. In the space of a breath, Daphne erupts. Red, orange and yellow fire licks out from her chest until it devours her entire body. A bloodcurdling scream cuts through the night. It’s the most horrible, God-awful sound and then it melts as the blaze consumes her. The flames pulse as they’re stroked by the breeze and the stench of burning flesh washes over me. Before I can control my heaving stomach, there’s nothing left of Daphne but a pile of ash.

There’s a gagging noise to my right. Dylan’s position mirrors mine. We’re both bent over and dry heaving from the wretched smell of burnt flesh. My amulet swings from his neck. Our gazes lock and I can’t bear the desperate look in his eyes. He reaches for me. I take his hand, try to convey with my touch that everything’s going to be all right.

Jude paces the perimeter of the rooftop, scanning the yard below. Daphne’s dead. Jude killed her with a single fireball. I turn my free hand over, study my palm. I think back to the flames I threw at the Rottweiler. At the two massive doors I blew up. Do I have the ability to kill? I shudder.

Jude leaves the ledge, his expression determined. He reaches for my elbow. “Let’s go. The two of you need to get inside. Now.”

I refuse to move. “I’m not leaving without Marcus.”

Jude’s gaze tightens. “Seamus is on his way here to kill you.”

The blood drains from my face. “How do you know that?”

Dylan’s upright and looking a little less green. “To kill Lucy?” His expression transforms to one of resolve. “Tell me what to do.”

“Get her inside to safety.” Jude directs me toward the door, this time with force. I square my shoulders, unwilling to move. “Not without Marcus.” I twist from his grasp, about to run to Marcus when I feel it. The wind lifts my hair, the chatter of leaves fills the air, as if in warning. An eerie sense of déjà vu crawls along my skin. 

“Get inside!” Jude’s lips press flat against his teeth. He grips my arm harder this time and shoves me roughly toward the door.

“It’s too late. He’s here.”

Jude’s expression turns grim. Dylan mimics him.

The wind picks up and lightening flashes across the sky. My entire body tingles.

A familiar screech fills the air, followed by a second and a third. The crows. Dozens of them. Swarming.

“Can’t you control them?” I yell to Jude.

Jude’s hands are pressed to the sky, as if trying to communicate with the birds. His expression shifts from intense focus to rage. His hands curl into fists and he roars. He turns to Dylan and me. “Seamus is controlling them.”

I stare at Jude unable to comprehend that these creepy crows haven’t been doing his bidding all along when they fly at us in force, like an army of winged warriors. Dylan and I duck. I feel the brush of their feathers. Dylan isn’t as lucky. He’s gashed by a beak or a talon and blood trickles down his forehead.

Jude’s face is a mask of fury as he hurls fireballs at the birds, taking them out two and three at a time. The crows disperse and reband in two groups, coming at us from both sides. Dylan tugs at my arm pulling me toward the access door. “Lucy, come on.” But I can’t leave Marcus. I pull away and try to run to my gargoyle, ducking as a second wave of crows makes another pass. The screeching rings in my ears.

“Lucy!” Jude shouts from behind me.

Seamus McAllister stands on the ledge, his eyes filled with hatred. A promise of suffering lurks in them, of finishing what he started that night in Marcus’ apartment.

Seamus waves his hand, sweeping my legs from beneath me. My hip slams against concrete with a jolt of pain.

“Lucy!” Dylan shouts.

I scramble to my feet as several crows descend, their sharp beaks stabbing my head, face, shoulders and arms. I wallop the red-eyed beasts with my fists. Dylan reaches me and punches at the crows. One connects and a crow falls. It scrabbles around trying to regain flight, its crushed wing lying useless on the roof while its mates continue their assault. My hands heat up. I try to focus underneath the flapping and dive-bombing. I draw the heat up and release it. A crow goes flying off the roof engulfed in flames.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Dylan pants.

“Sure, just not now.” I keep sending fireballs into the crows. Dylan takes off his jacket and starts swinging at them.