Page 28 of Corvus and the Broken God

“No, that’s okay. I usually take them to the kitchen.”

“Alrighty then, follow me.” I turned to lead the way. “Did he already pay? Or do I need to find you some cash?”

“No, it’s covered.”

We didn’t speak again until the bags were all on the kitchen table next to my abandoned lunch. We studied each other. Unsure of my role at the house, besides no longer having to worry about going hungry once the cheese and stew ran out, I didn’t know what to say. But the man continued to stare at me. So, I stared back. His features were heavy with dark eyebrows and a striking forehead and jawline. Instead of making him classically handsome, though, they gave him a sinister air, like an actor who always plays the evil character.

“Are you related?” he asked, finally dropping my gaze.

“To?”

“Benjamin.”

Duh. “Oh, no. Just a friend. I’m visiting for a few weeks. I’m Freya.” I held out my hand.

“Darryl.” He shook my hand, grip tight.

“Thanks for bringing all this, Darryl. Do you live around here?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, not really. I live over in Millers Glen, which is about an hour drive from here.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

But he was staring again, and I was tempted to ask him if I had something in my teeth. “Is something wrong? What am I missing?”

He grimaced. “I’ve never seen anyone up here before except Benjamin. And I’ve only seen him once. And, well, he’s kind of strange.”

I put my hand on my hip. I just told this asshole I was friends with my Monster. Was he actually fishing for information? Before I could say anything, he drew himself up to his full height until he almost loomed over me. “How do I know you’re supposed to be here anyways?”

His aggressive stance should’ve been intimidating, but the reality of my situation trumped his threat. I was the one with the powerful friend close by. Wait? Had he just said he had seen Benjamin in person? And he came back?

“He is my friend,” I repeated, slowly, in case he missed it the first time. “I’m here because he invited me up here. Thanks again for the delivery. If there’s nothing else…”

He watched me for a moment before finally turning to leave. I escorted him out to the front door, staying on his heels, and watched as he picked his way back across the courtyard. A soft chime sounded throughout the house when he crossed the invisible threshold. A deep breath pushed out of me in relief. I contemplated the front door, which was always wide open, noticing the pink of the changing sky. It wasn’t my place to shut it, as much as I wanted to.

Of all the rooms I had seen, only one besides the kitchen had an accessible window with vista views looking out over the cliff. It was the room Mindy stayed in, and I wound my way through the house to watch the sunset. The door swung open, and I looked around before entering. Missing her brave, cheerful presence, the room looked formal and slightly intimidating.

I had been practicing courage since she left, determined to keep building on it. As I studied the room with the detached curiosity of an anthropologist, I noted its distinct character. Although the pieces looked like they had been collected slowly over centuries, it was welcoming, undeniably masculine—just as mine was much more feminine.

Perfect for visiting enemies masquerading as friends.

I pulled back the thick brocade curtain to inspect the old casement window. With a stiff shove, it lifted out, teetered on the edge of falling, and then slid to a halt. The rickety thing weighed a ton, and I would probably need help closing it later. In the meantime, I settled in to watch the sun say its good night. The thought of the dark falling scared me a little, especially without the company of my friend. She would have been better cut out for this adventure. I reminded myself again of my so far short-lived decision to be brave. I could do this.

I swung my leg over the wide window ledge, aware of the cliff edge only a few feet away. Clipped of my wings, I was cautious, but I yearned for the freedom to play in the sky. Below me, the valley sprawled out in both directions, wide southern exposure giving us both sunrises and sunsets. The mountaintops to my far right cradled a concentrated ball of orange, and I turned my body to better watch the show. Low clouds made the colors more dramatic, pinks and brilliant fuchsias. I leaned my head back against the window casing and watched.

Just as the blues turned to indigo and as the first star blinked into existence above me, a large black shape took off directly in my line of sight. How quickly I had grown used to his unearthly form; the horns and wings almost everyday appendages. I watched him flap his magnificent wings and burned with jealousy. Oh, to be up there with him, playing in the wind. I should’ve gotten more information from him while I could, about when he’d teach me to change myself. Probably not until I fulfilled my end of our bargain. The bargain I had struck with the devil. A Mayan death god. What the hell had I been thinking? And what did it say that I was more afraid of Cassandra than of him? That I thrust my fate into his hands rather than face her again, although she was in the wrong. These thoughts churned in my skull, and I waited until the night had completely settled over the land before turning toward the kitchen.

I paced the kitchen, antsy. This was not where I wanted to be. I wanted to be up there, laughing and playing with him. Instead, I was putting away his groceries like his housekeeper. At least I was qualified for that much. Would I have still made the bargain if he’d said he just needed me to wait on him for six weeks? Probably, the draw between us was too intense. Although I was curious about what was in the bags he paid to have lugged up the mountain. My first find made me smile: a giant sack of freshly roasted coffee beans and a box of individually wrapped creamers. How he had dug that out of my brain, I didn’t want to think too hard about, but good thing he did. I glanced around the kitchen, which was lit by a few candles in sconces. He had lit them for me before he left.

There had to be something in which to brew the coffee, but before I looked for it, I rooted through the rest of the bags. One bag contained only books, including travel guides on the Yucatán Peninsula and Cancun, as well as those on Mayan ruins. A beautiful one on Mayan architecture. Were these for me? Had he known I would agree to help him? It should have frightened me. Somehow he had known I would agree, that I’d be excited to start my research right away. And we needed to have a long discussion about what was going to happen in six weeks, what I had blindly signed up for.

He ordered a good number of smoked meats—helpful when you don’t have a fridge—more cheese, various root vegetables, onions, and fruit. My Monster liked fruit. There were two bulging bags of the stuff. No wonder Darryl struggled to carry all this in; these bags weighed a ton.

I put the food away in the cold pantry. Next to the stove sat a brown earthenware bowl and a spoon, the stew still simmering. The aroma reminded me of something I had as a small child, earthy and rich with meat. I ladled myself a healthy portion and retreated to my room with the books. A fire crackled in the hearth, making me feel welcome, and I settled down in the chair next to it, hungry and content.

The jarring sound of the bell pealing throughout the house woke me from a deep sleep. Someone had crossed the property line. An intense urge to be able to fly above the house pulsed through me, even stronger than my wish to fly with Camazotz earlier. This desperate need, something I felt in my bones, started a tingling in my toes. Instead of overthinking, I leaned into the desire of it, my only wish to be a crow again. The tingling grew, so I fed it my desire until it pulled up through my legs and torso and bled out my arms and fingers. When it reached my head, the transformation was inevitable. There was no other option: I was a crow again.

I had left one of my windows open before going to bed, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the mild night air. It was an easy, short flight to the ledge. My body remembered what it was like to read the currents through my feathers. With a single jump followed by several flaps of my wings, I flew up and out of my room. The mountainside on this side of the house was thick with rhododendrons and trees, and I had to jump on a few branches to maneuver my way to the sky, but I got there easily. A few more hard flaps and I caught a gust of wind which carried my light body up easily, up, up, up, until I could survey the large house and the cleared land around the front and left side. I circled, spotting them immediately, as they crested the top of the driveway. There were three of them: Darryl, the man who had delivered our groceries and books, and two men dressed in sheriff’s uniforms. All three men carried guns.