Page 41 of Raven

"We're going in," she said, pointing to the cafe's "Others Welcome" sign. "Someone will know where it is."

"It's no use."

But she wasn't listening. She marched straight to the door, and what was I meant to do? Drag her back? We had hours to walk back and if we wanted to get back on the bus, who knew how long that would take to come out this way. I was tired. Tired and sick of it all really. I just wanted to go home. Go home and close my door and not think about a damn thing.

My mother had other ideas. She was through the main door before I could stop her.

The woman who'd served Tia and I the other night, spotted me right away. She put her hands up. "We don't want trouble here." But she was talking to my mother, not me.

"No trouble," I said.

I could feel her and the other patrons. Not that there were many. A couple where Tia and I had sat the other night and then a family sitting on the other side of the cafe, all tucking into their meals. Unease radiated from everyone in the room. My power stirred beneath my skin, reaching out invisible tendrils to gauge the emotions around us. Fear, curiosity, and a hint of hostility swirled in the atmosphere.

I kept my eyes on my mother, watching her every move. She had that look, the one that meant she wasn't leaving without answers. Part of me admired her determination, but another part was screaming that we should go.

"My son was in here the other night. He left his motorbike in the car park. Do you know what happened to it? Maybe you put it away for safekeeping?" My mother's voice dripped sweetness, like sugar melting on her tongue. It took me aback; I'd never heard her lay it on so thick, and actually mean it—or at least pretend to mean it so well that even I believed it.

The woman behind the counter swallowed hard and looked from me to my mother. Fear radiated off her in waves, a level of terror that wasn't normal. I hadn't attacked anyone here. Actually, I hadn't attacked anyone at all. It had been the humans.

I sent out my threads, invisible, letting them snake around her like ghostly vines. I wanted to calm her before she bolted and got an itchy finger on that trigger I knew was under the counter. Sure, this was an Other-friendly place, but they had panic buttons everywhere. One press and the police would be here in seconds, and it wouldn't matter what we were doing. We could've been sitting in a corner with our hands raised, knitting with cotton wool—they'd still charge us with something. I couldn't afford that.

So I calmed her. Or tried to. I wasn't sure of how far my ... I'd say magic, but was it magic? Power? Ability maybe. I wasn't sure how strong my ability was. In truth, I'd never actually tested it; I just knew I was able to use it.

But the woman did calm. "The girl he was with moved it," she finally stammered.

"Tia?" I whispered her name. I think only my mother heard it, because I sensed her jolt.

"What did she do with it?" my mother asked. "Did she ride it away?"

"No." The woman shook her head. "She took it to the bar." She motioned, daring to come out from behind the counter and away from that button. She went to the window at the other side of the cafe. "We call it the bar. Down there, just over the cliff. We thought she might have tossed it over."

I don't know what my mother was thinking, but she paused to look and then turned her attention on the woman and held it there for longer than a glance, making the woman shift uncomfortably. "Thank you," she said in the end.

Outside, I said, "The bike is long gone." I had resigned myself on some level, but that was also due to everything with Tia and not understanding why it had ended. It overshadowed the loss of my bike, I think. "Should we just walk—" But I had stopped and my mother walked off. "Where are you going?"

"To find your bike," she shouted over her shoulder. She was marching to where the woman had pointed. I sighed and contemplated staying where I was and waiting for her. I'm not sure what she thought she'd find, but my bike was gone. I'm not even sure why she was so adamant to get it back. She hated the thing. Most of the time, she didn't want me to use it, but I found myself following her. I was starting to feel like a good little kitten, following my mother around.

The bar was a cliff. Sort of. It wasn't a drop, but more a steep hill, with a path that'd been carved out and down at the bottom was a scrapyard, which stretched out before us like a chaotic monument of forgotten journeys. Evening had settled in, casting a muted, grey light over the scene before us. The rain still fell steadily, creating a pitter-patter of drips and splashes as it hit rusted metal and shattered glass. The air was thick with the scent of wet metal and oil.

Cars, taxis, and other vehicles had been piled haphazardly, some stacked three or four cars high, their frames twisted and bent from the years of neglect. Many were missing windows, which now acted as entry points for the rain, pooling inside shells that had once been seats and dashboards. Doors hung ajar or were completely absent, leaving gaping holes that seemed to swallow the dim light.

As we made our way down the cliff-like descent, carved by countless others who had ventured before us, I spotted shapes moving inside some of the vehicles. At first, I thought it was a trick of the rain and shadows, but then I saw them clearly: figures huddled inside broken shells. They watched us with wary eyes, their faces partially obscured by the darkness.

My mother was down before I was. The ground was a mix of mud and gravel, slick and treacherous underfoot. The scrapyard was a maze, each turn revealing more decaying vehicles and hidden onlookers. Some of the people were using the vehiclesas shelter, makeshift homes in this metal wilderness. Others appeared to be scavenging and paid no attention to us.

"We should just go back," I said, but my voice trailed off as my mother stopped, and we both saw it. "It's there." I couldn't believe it. My bike, leaning against a car, looked mostly intact. My helmet was resting on the seat. The other one was gone, but my bike...

"I told you we'd get it." My mother marched over to it, but I watched the eyes and faces watching us, unease still crawling under my skin. I headed to my bike, and just as I reached for it, a skinny-looking man with white hair and bright eyes stepped out.

"Can I help you two?"

I halted, and my mother did too. I inhaled deeply. "I'm just here for my bike," I pointed to it. He was fae, his pointed ears and silver eyes giving him away. Unseelie fae, too. The worst kind, but even worse if he was down here. Even the bottom of the Unseelie fae barrel didn’t consort in such places, so he must have done something really terrible to find himself in the trenches of the human world.

His top lip peeled back. "You mean my bike?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No. It’s mine. It was left in the cafe car park."

"So, you left it ..."

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