in the dark room came into sharp relief. As annoying as her weirdness could be, being able to see in the dark occasionally came in handy. She slowly sat up, telling herself that it was nothing, even as adrenaline began to pump through her system.
Then she saw them, twin red coals watching her unblinkingly from right outside her window. Her heart stuttered in her chest, and Ember barely stifled a small scream as her hand went to her mouth. The red pinpoints bored into her, unblinking …
Then it fluttered its wings, and the illusion was bro ken. Moonlight glinted in eyes that were no longer red. Wind lifted shadows that became feathers.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Ember found herself fending off a fit of nervous laughter. It was a crow. Not a demon, not Poe’s ominous raven, but a common crow, probably cold and taking a breather from the tempestuous night wind. Except …
Ember narrowed her eyes, taking a good look at it. It couldn’t be the same bird, but damn it, it looked just like the enormous crow that had taken up residence at her shop. It had been there all week, perched on the sign, or the window-sill or the tree planted in the sidewalk just down from her door. Weird, she thought with an involuntary little shiver. Even weirder was that she hadn’t been able to shake the sensation that the bird wasn’t just hanging around, but watching her. Which made no sense. As little sense, in fact, as her continuing obsession with the fact that the crow had arrived on Monday afternoon, not long after she’d seen Raum in Mick’s, the bar across the street. And he had been watching her then.
She’d broken three more bottles of essence after that.
“Not thinking about it. Not going there,” Ember said aloud, hoping the sound of her own voice would add a little more reality to the decidedly surreal night. Bolstered, if only a little, she addressed the bird on the sill.
“Fly away, birdie. Go home. No vacancy.”
It really was a beautiful bird, Ember thought as it watched her unblinkingly, the largest crow she’d ever seen, at least up close. She knew they were scavengers, but they were supposed to be really smart, too. This one certainly looked as if it had its wits about it. But enough to follow her home from work?
As she watched, it held her gaze, leaned forward. Then:
Tap tap tap.
It wanted in.
“No way,” Ember murmured, amazed. She’d sure as hell never seen a bird wanting to visit inside someone’s house before. Obviously, all it would do if she opened the window would be to either fly off into the night, or worse, to come in and then freak out about what it had thought it wanted. But … what if it was tame? Someone’s escaped pet, caught in the oncoming storm? What if it wasn’t used to being outside and would wind up dead if she left it in the cold?
What if it needed her?
That was the sweet spot, right there. The one she couldn’t resist indulging.
“Oh, honestly,” she muttered. “Fine. Let’s be stupid.”
She got out of bed and padded to the window, the moonlight painting dappled images on her bare skin. It was probably idiocy, but she was never going to feel right about it if she just let the poor crow sit there. And anyway, she had few enough friends. That was one of the overarching themes of her life: alone. Who was she to shun a fellow creature based solely on species?
Her fingers had just flipped the latches when there was a flurry of motion behind her, a rapid scuttling noise, clickity-clickity-click, like a small animal scurrying across her floor. The window slammed up of its own accord just as the claws sank into her shoulders.
Ember had only a vague impression of something huge and black exploding into her room from the night, just before she was hurled across the room as though she weighed no more than a doll. For a moment, she was weightless. Then, in a lightning-quick burst of instinct that came out of nowhere, she tucked herself into a ball, rolling rather than slamming into the floor or wall and ending quickly in a defensive crouch on the far side of her bed.
There was a split second of recognition that, under other circumstances, she would have thought her move had been pretty damn cool. Then she heard an inhuman, outraged shriek, and something deep inside her roared in response. A sudden wave of bloodlust crashed through her like a tidal wave. All her carefully constructed barriers crumbled in an instant, and the daylight creature she fought to be evaporated in the face of the night creature she truly was.
There was a crash, the sound of shattering glass. And a fierce growl that stirred Ember in ways that had nothing to do with violence. So familiar … she had to see, to know. In a single, nimble leap, Ember cleared the bed and immediately found herself confronted with a sight straight out of a horror movie.
The two creatures grappled by the window, reduced to shadows where they fought, backlit by the moon. One of them, the one she knew immediately had drawn the blood that had already dried on her shoulders, was truly the most hideous thing she’d ever seen. Its skin was a deep and angry red even in the darkness, and its squat and muscular body strained as blood poured from a gash across its head. And that head … stubby, curved horns protruded from the forehead, and its snout pulled back to reveal a maw full of dagger-sharp teeth.
As Ember watched, the creature drew back its arm and slashed its claws across the cheek of its opponent, earning, amazingly, no more than a pained grunt for its trouble.
“You’ll pay for that, you nefari piece of shit,” snarled a voice that she recognized the second she heard it. She would know that voice anywhere. The wings, however, sprouting from his back with a kind of strange majesty, took her utterly aback.
Just like in my dreams.
His blazing eyes, a hot and angry green, connected with hers for only a split second, sending a jolt through her that seemed to set every nerve ending she had aflame at once. Stripped of her inhibitions, Ember let the connection between them ripple through her, the siren song of pleasure promised far greater for her than the interest in the fight.
Sensing it, the horned creature’s attention moved completely to her. It quickly forgot Raum in favor of its initial prey and shoved away from him to stalk toward her, gleaming red eyes full of blind hatred and a terrible hunger.
This time, the warning growl that filled the air was Ember’s. Her body felt loose, agile, and she realized that all her fear had evaporated. It had been replaced by a sort of breathless anticipation. That, and a complete confidence that when she and this creature went for one another’s throats, she would win. Which was good, because Raum’s presence had her blood singing. If she had to tear through this thing to get to him, so be it.
Ember growled louder, her claws extended, her long and deadly incisors bared.
Come and get me, you son of a bitch.
It leaped, and Ember propelled herself into the air, ready to clash, to meet it in a biting, tearing frenzy. All of her passion, her pent-up energy, sizzled through her veins in anticipation. She would make her kill. She would teach this thing a lesson.
And then it was gone, stolen from her out of midair as Raum swooped out of nowhere and slammed it against the wall. Ember had the wind knocked out of her in one harsh breath, one swift blow to her gut sending her hurtling back to the floor. There was an almost piglike squeal, followed quickly by an ear-piercing
