Black Crow

Prologue

Mists spiraled up from the water like the ocean breathing life into the air. The moon shed pale, cool light as it woke, setting the crickets to their nightly summer chorus. A crow squawked, so arrogant and powerful.

None of it was familiar, not the sounds or the sights, but this was now my home. No matter how beautiful or what ties bound me to Raven Hallow, it would never be the home I wanted or wished for.

Home made me think of Mom, and of Parker. An ache started deep in my bones, a longing to see his familiar face. Home was supposed to make you feel safe and secure, not scared out of your wits. Home wasn't about size or quality; it was about the emotion it enticed.

But under the wishing, aching, and longing, fear bubbled inside me, scorching the back of my throat. My life was in danger, putting those around me at risk. TJ was the only family I had left, and it was now my job to make sure he was protected, even if it meant hurting me.

I was no stranger to pain.

It was peculiar how a journey could change you and how much you could learn from it. Coming to Raven Hallow had been a journey I'd been reluctant to take, but the knowledge I'd gained was life-altering. I learned my father was a coward, and my mother wasn't who I thought she was. That my grandmother wasn't even human. I learned I had an ancient power, passed down to me upon my grandmother's death, a power that frightened me and I had yet to control.

I thought it all over and over again. Every choice, every mistake, every sacrifice, wondering if I could do it all again, would things have turned out differently. If my mom had been given a second chance, would she have told me what I was? Would she have let me make my own choice when it came to love?

Some nights I dreamed of home, of my small condo in the city where I knew every building and bend in the roads. But more nights I dreamed of Zane Hunter.

I could hear his voice, the soft lilt of an ancient Celtic. The scent of him so potent and tantalizing, it gave me a sensory-gasm. If there was such a thing, Zane could induce it. These were my favorite nights, because in my dreams, Zane and I were free to do the things I really wanted to do to him. Like play tonsil hockey. A ton.

There were other dreams, dreams that brought sharp fear rather than longing or desire. Nightmares of the dead, of reapers, and the murders of two women who'd been completely different kinds of important to me. It was their deaths that haunted my subconscious mind. Both in their own way had tried to protect me, but in doing so, had left me utterly alone. And clueless.

I stared straight ahead, avoiding sleep. In the distance, the heart of the island shone brightly. The lighthouse, of course. What offshore New England island would be without? This one was a dazzling pure white, rising above the craggy cliff. Directly above, the crow squawked again, perched on the balcony railing.

Everyone had a ghost in their past, but whether it was Casper or the Blair Witch was what made the difference. I had both.

The ocean, the quietness of the evening, and the call of the crow reminded me who I was destined to be...

The White Raven.

I only hoped I could live up to the task. And survive.