Page 3 of Demon of Dreams

Anthony’s complaint turned into a shout, then a crash, as he banged into the metal door. I turned around, fear gripping my heart, and saw him staring up at the roof of the diner. The building was a one-story square, and the roof sloped gently down from a peak in the center.

The crow perched along the edge, watching us.

No. Watchingme.

“Fucking asshole went for me,” Anthony said. “Just swooped in out of nowhere, trying to scratch my eyes out.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the crow. Was it the same one? My gut told me it was, but that could have just been the fear talking. How many crows were there in Churchill, anyway? Before today, I’d never really noticed.

“Left something on you,” Anthony said, pointing at my shoulder.

I looked down in confusion as he brushed a hand across my body. A single black feather floated to the cement under our feet.

“What the fuck?” I said, echoing Anthony softly.

“Better a feather than bird shit,” he said, turning around in a circle, looking at the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a fucking rock, dude. Let’s see howhelikes having something fly at his head.”

“Don’t.” My hand darted out and grabbed Anthony’s wrist before I even knew it was moving.

“What?”

“Just…don’t,” I told him. “Let’s just leave it and go inside.”

I couldn’t explain why, but the idea of throwing a rock at the bird seemedwrong. I wasn’t sure if I was afraid of what it might do, or feeling protective. Maybe a little of both.

I got the inner door unlocked and stepped into the diner, waving for Anthony to come in after me. With a sigh, he left off his search and came inside, the metal door slamming closed with a bang. I shut the wooden door firmly after it. It felt unaccountably good to be inside, where the bird couldn’t follow.

The morning was slow and easy after that, and I relaxed a little as I settled into my routine. Check that Inge had cashed out correctly last night. Take the chairs down from the tables, wipe everything down with cleaner. Refill all the jam caddies and sugar packet baskets. Make sure each table has ketchup.

Our regulars began to file in at six, the sky still dark, but the diner a cheerful yellow, blazing away in the early morning. I waved at Harry Franz as he walked in and headed for his booth in the corner.

“Be with you in a second,” I called. “Make yourself comfortable.” Then I turned back to Alicia Umberto, perched on her usual stool at the counter. “Black coffee and the double-egg special?”

“You got it,” she said, rolling her sleeves up with a smile.

I liked the early morning shift at Carla’s. It was never too busy, and there was time to chat with people. Churchill was a friendly town, for the most part, and I liked our customers.

I’d been lonely, ever since Neil had moved to New York after high school graduation. Franny had headed off to Des Moines. It was only two hours, but it felt like she was an ocean away. The diner regulars weren’t friends, exactly, but they were the closest I had at this point.

“You seeing this?” Leecey Davis called two hours later. She was talking to Melvin Ortega, who was sitting three booths away. I was half-listening to their chatter as I grabbed the coffee pot to come around with refills, but Melvin’s answer stopped me in my tracks.

“That’s a damn big bird.”

I spun around, splashing coffee out of the pot and onto my hand, but I barely noticed the scalding heat. I was too focused on Melvin, who was peering out of the diner’s windows, and Leecey, who was pointing at something in the front parking lot.

I didn’twantto go over and look, but something drew me to the front of the diner anyway. My heart skipped a beat when I saw what I’d known I would: the crow, perched on the front steps of the diner. It was looking at Melvin, but its head swiveled in my direction as soon as I came into sight.

“Just a crow,” I said, more to myself than to anyone else.

“A crow?” Leecey said with a laugh. “That’s a raven, Cory. It could eat a crow for breakfast, if you ask me.”

“It seems to like Cory,” Melvin cracked. “Maybe it wantshimfor breakfast.”

I backed away from the windows, trying not to let Melvin’s comment get to me. I was just imagining things. It wasn’t the same bird. And even if it was, what did it matter? Didn’t people say crows—or ravens, I supposed—were smart? Maybe it just wanted food. Maybe it had seen me by chance this morning and followed me, hoping I’d drop something.

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