Raven

Raven, Chapter Fifteen

There's a point in time when you're having such a bad day that you finally just throw your wings up and say, Fuck it! You win! And, to be honest, I was really close to that point before I talked with Lorelei. I mean, when it looks like your wolfie best friend has betrayed you and completely screwed over your whole company, when your city's about to get overrun by your brain-munching employees, your vamp best friend is heartbroken over seeing his ex-lover's throat ripped out, and you've spent the day in bumfuck Egypt having been arrested after breaking off the one possible relationship you've had in centuries, well, it may be time to throw in the claw.

And I might have—said, the hell with this shit, Big Guy, this trainwreck is all yours. I might have—had it not been for the small, scared voice on the other end of that line. As it was, I was freezing my feathers off, flying through Atlanta, on my way to Lou's house off Paces Ferry. That was the longest twenty minutes of my life, and even with the snow and wind, I still made it in record time. Meanwhile, Ivan was in my car with my driver, Sigmund, trying to make their way to Lou's house. Our plan was to hole up at Lou's place until either he shows up or we have a better plan.

I kept telling myself that Lorelei was confused. Lou couldn't be dead. She was just projecting her fears, and I hadn't seen any reports that called for his death. But, then again, I hadn't seen any reports of anyone's death since I stepped down two years ago—since I had to take Lorelei's mother. Maybe two year's was too long. I just—it was so hard to look Lou in the face after the funeral. I couldn't face him, and it just got easier to stay away. The company didn't need me, or at least that's what I told myself, so I showed up for our quarterly meetings, sometimes. But, mostly, I just wandered—filling my life with distractions, so I wouldn't have to see that injured look and his face and know that I was responsible.

God, I was such a selfish bitch. Whatever he'd got himself into, it was my fault. I should've been there for him. All I could think of as I swooped down on the porch of his stucco mansion was that I hoped it wasn't too late, because I didn't care what it took, I was going to do everything in my power to get him out of this.

I rang the doorbell and waited. The snow had stopped melting and was finally sticking to the ground. It was dark, but in Atlanta, it never gets really dark. The lights of the city cascaded across the woolen sweater sky and refracted back. The clouds were so heavy, it was like you could almost touch them. We were in for a blizzard.

I rang the doorbell again, and noticed two dark eyes peeking through the side of the door.

"It's me, Lorelei."

The door opened, and without pausing for hellos, she threw herself into my arms. She trembled, but her skin was warm, almost feverishly warm, but I thought it could be because I'd been in the cold.

"Let's get inside, honey, before you catch a cold. Ivan and Sigmund should be here soon. They're grabbing some food and things on the way. Have you eaten?"

Her head, although buried in my waist, shook. Her whole body trembled like a rabbit in a trap. I swept herup into my arms and held her tightly against me. Hot, wet tears splashed against my shoulder, but no words came from her. Only dark sobs.

I brought her into the kitchen. It'd been more than two years, since I'd set foot in this house. The last time I was here was for Lou's birthday. The kitchen was filled with so much sunshine then that Ivan had to put on extra coats of his sunscreen. In every corner and crevice, there was music and laughter. The rooms were painted with joy.

But, as I carried Lorelei into it, there wasn't even a single light turned on in the house. It was as dark and empty of life as it had once been light and filled with joy. In this room, there was only want and pain.