Page 5 of Corvus and the Broken God

“He’s a shark.”

Turns out my friend was right, but that long-ago night I ignored her advice. Heady from champagne and my first professional success, I stayed by his side. As the night progressed and he swam in bourbon, he began opening up to me. At first, it was general congratulations and small talk, but then we began talking. Like me, Matthew had a private side he didn’t show to just anybody. We discussed everything from music to books and politics. Then I told him about my past. How my mother left us, and my father died soon after. How my uncle raised me but never loved me. By that point, we were the only two people still drinking at the bar. He offered me a ride home and walked me to my door. He stepped in close, surrounding me in his clean cologne essence, a scent I had searched for unsuccessfully at the department store counters. I kissed him. He kissed me back, stopping soon after with a reluctant look. “We can’t, but…”

Then he wished me a good night.

We never spoke of that evening, but through the years we grew closer. Had you asked me yesterday, I would have told you with complete confidence Matthew believed in me and my work. I thought he understood me. I had trusted him, and that made me a fool. The only person who would be bothered by my disappearance would be Mindy. And Matthew would be the one to tell her how they did everything possible to find me. Would she believe him?

No one can help you.

I looked around, but even my crow friend had deserted me. Not that I blamed him, there was nothing to see anymore. Everyone had gone. Then again, crows don’t speak English.

Down here.

The voice was coming from inside my head like the demon had spoken to me last night, only this wasn’t his voice. Today’s voice was also male but lacking the gravitas of a true monster. I tilted my head, searching the ground at the base of my tree. Far below stood a wolf, gray with a black stripe down his back, watching me.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked, but of course, it came out as gibberish, crow-speak.

Try thinking instead of speaking. His mouth didn’t move, but his yellow eyes stared intensely at mine.

I’d been doing nothing but thinking, and my head hurt, but I tried it anyway.

Projecting my thoughts out toward the wolf, I asked, What do you want?

I want to help you. He wagged his tail, a sloppy tongue hanging loosely from his fanged mouth. His words and body language seemed to imply sincerity, but recent experiences told me to move cautiously. As long as I stayed where I was, perched thirty feet above the ground, I was safe.

How can you help me, Wolf? And, more importantly, why would you?

He did a little shake, looking like someone’s pet.

Because I am the only one who knows what you really are.

And who do you think I am?

You are someone like me. Someone unfortunate enough to wander into his evil trap. The only person in the world who knows what happened to you. Your background, your former life, means nothing now.

And who are you?

I am the Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE

The Fable

Looking through the branches of a large tree and knowing I could maneuver my way down it in seconds would take getting used to, but the interaction with the Wolf had changed my situation. I was no longer completely alone. Spotting a branch about halfway down, still well out of the reach of claw and fang, I leapt for it, catching it with the tips of my talons but ultimately grabbing it. The wolf watched me closely. A strand of saliva forming at the edge of his mouth stretched toward the ground. A good reminder of exactly what he was. The branch shook from my clumsy landing, the pine needles releasing their sharp, fresh scent into the air. In the distance, I heard the loud discussions of my fellow crows back in the tree where they liked to congregate, but I shut their noises out.

He was an ordinary wolf, if such a magnificent creature could be called such. As frightening as I imagined it would be to come face to face with him in my former life, I was much smaller now, and my entire body would easily fit in his mouth. My life gone in a single bite. I gripped the branch firmly, regretting my decision to come closer.

He licked his lips and sat down, once again disarming me with his relaxed body language. How well did he know birds? Could he see how stressed I was?

How long have you been a wolf? I asked him.

That is an excellent question. And since I saw you come by this way yesterday, in your other form, I will do you a courtesy and answer your question. Of course, without any way to keep track of the days except by the changing seasons, my best guess is four months.

Four months? He just changed you and then forgot all about you?

Oh no, my little crow. That is not what happened at all, but this is what you want to know, right? What will become of you?

He was right. I did want to know if the demon on the hill would come looking for me one day, forget all about my existence, or if he would consider changing me back. Although I suspected I knew the answer.