These are my brothers.
And I’m so fucking bored I could scream.
It’s not their fault. They’re good men, well, as good as monsters can be. We run a tight operation, keeping the peace in our territory, and we make money through legitimate and less-than-legitimate means. We protect humans from knowing the supernatural beings that walk among them.
We’re civilized.
And I fucking hate it.
I remember when we were gods.
When mortals whispered our names in terror and raised altars of trembling light, hoping their candles could keep the dark away, could keepusaway. When the sight of a crow made grown men bar their doors and windows, I didn’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.
When I could hunt.
“Brother,” Oracle’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. He leans forward, firelight reflecting in his eyes, literal fire, thekind that never goes out. “The blood remembers what the heart forgot. Your shadow’s been too clean for too long.”
The table around us goes quiet.
I meet his gaze, furrowing my brow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning you’re restless. Meaning you’ve been playing at mortality for so long, you’ve forgotten whatyouare.” His smile is gentle but knowing. “Meaning something’s coming. Something that’ll remind you.”
Before I can respond, before I can tell him he’s wrong, that nothing’s coming because nothingeverchanges, the door to the office slams open.
Rogue is on his feet instantly, claws already extending. Scorch’s veins start to glow, and Dread’s fear projection ripples outward like a wave. But as we all face the door, Eden staggers inside. Her usual goth look, torn jeans and a tank top, is gone. She drops to her knees, a ghostly figure, her body glowing with a sheen of silky smoke that coils around her, drowning her in grief. Her face is as white as the death she’s predicting. The Banshee’s eyes are wild, unfocused, and the air around her vibrates with the energy exploding from her.
“Eden?” I move before I realize it, vampire speed carrying me to her side. “What’s happeni—”
“Aaahhh-eeeiii-aaahhh-iiieeeaaahhh!” The sound rips from her like a soul being torn in half, high, piercing, and seemingly endless. It isn’t human, it isn’t sound, it’s grief made weapon, slicing through air and sanity alike. Windows explode, glass rains down, and every light in the room flickers before dying. The scream keeps climbing in intensity, vibrating through my chest, through the floor, through the night itself, until it feels as though the whole world is holding its breath to survive.
It’s not a normal scream, it’s a Banshee’s wail—the sound of death given voice. Every supernatural being in the room flinchesback from the assault on their senses. Everyone cowers, covering their ears, as if somehow that will stop the sound.
The scream goes on and on, building in intensity until I swear I can see the air rippling around her. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it cuts off.
Eden slumps forward, breathing hard. When she looks up at me, panting for breath, tears of blood streak down her face, the fear of God sweeps through her as she looks up at me in a panic. The smoke of her Banshee slowly dissipates, bringing her back to her normal form.
I hold her tight as she slowly finds her voice again, but it is raspy. “Someone’s b-breaking theLaw of S-Silence.” She gasps, breaking on a few words through her hoarse tone. “They’re exposing us. A-all of us. I can hear them dying… humans who’ve seen too much. I can h-hear their names, Crave. Backward. Over and o-over.” Her voice trembles. “Someone’s forcing the Coven of Crows’ hand.”
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees, and if my face could turn any paler, I am sure it just did. Around me, my brothers tense. The other two club girls, Seraphine and Reyna, have appeared from the bar area, drawn in by the commotion. Ronan and Jet hover in the background, the prospects smart enough to stay out of the way.
I stare down at Eden, and something cold settles in my chest. Not fear, I haven’t felt fear in millennia, but…
… anticipation?
Recognition?
The Coven of Crows.
My former family.
The ones I left behind when I traded apocalypse for this mundane existence.
If someone is breaking theLaw of Silencebadly enough that a Banshee across the world can sense the deaths…
If the Crows are being drawn out…
“Well,” I say softly, and even I hear the predator creeping back into my voice, the monster I’ve been suppressing. “I guess Oracle was right.”
