Page 33 of The Raven
“Thenwe make it look like an accident,”Pyro retorted, frustration lacing histone.
I tuned the two of them out, my attention catching when a bird fluttered inthrough the gaping hole in the warehouse roof and settled on a rafter.
A raven.
My jaw clenched as I stared at the bird, Roberts’ words ringing in my headlike an annoying fucking alarm bell.
‘If by some miracle, she’s risen from the dead,thenyou ought to watch yourback, because she’s coming for you. For all of you.’
It couldn’t be true. There was no fucking way Raven was back. She wasdead, and dead people didn’t rise from their graves. I witnessed my stepsister take her final breath. Watched the life leave her eyes. Saw them lower her coffin into the ground,evenif it was from a distance after I was prohibited from going to the funeral.
The bird watched me as I watched it, thoughts churning over in my head,and the conversation between Butch and Pyro filtering back in.
“Maybe Buck was right, maybe Raven is back from the dead,”Pyro said.
“Don’t be fucking stupid, the cunt is dead,”Butch replied.
I pulled my gun out and aimed it at the raven. The two of them fell silentwhen the cocking of my gun reverberated around the warehouse.
“There’s only one way to find out,”I said, moving my aim slightly so I hadthe perfect shot.“We dig the bitch up.”
I squeezed the trigger.
Didn't Your MommyTell You Not To Play With Knives?
The Raven
Bang!
My eyes flew open aspainexploded in my arm. Iboltedupright, pulledfrom the daydream of mine andMason’schildhood by the echoes of agunshotringing in my head.
Mason slumbered on beside me as my gaze frantically searched his room for the source of the noise. But when an image of Grim, Butch, and Pyro standing over my grave with spades in their hands flashed through my head, I leaped off the bed and threw my clothes on, panic spreading through me like wildfire.
What the fuck were they doing?
With every movement, my arm throbbed, almost as if I’dsomehowbrokenabone that was refusing to heal. Grabbing aknifefromMason’skitchen, I rushed out of the apartment and headed into the street, tuning into myraven.
Another image materialized behind my eyes. Grim had taken a shot at her. She’d flown away in time to avoid the bullet, but as she made her escape, her wing smashed into a rafter.
She was watching the Vipers now, high above, and hidden in a tree, but with her wing at an awkward angle.
That explained the pain in my arm.
White-hot rage thrummed through me, and before I knew it, I was outsideHadleigh Peakcemetery.
The tall, iron gates were closed, locked together by a thick metal chain. Behind them, the path led to rows and rows of gravestones, the moon’s rays lighting them up.
I climbed over thegates,wincingat the burnspreadingthrough my arm, andas soon as I was back on two feet, I took off at a sprint.Somehow, I knew where mygravewas. I wove through headstones, powering up the bank of a hill beforefallinginto a crouch,hiddenby theshadowsof the trees lining thecemetery.
Nearby, theVipersgrunted as theycontinuedtodig, a small heap of mudpiling up every time they shoved theirspadesinto the dry ground. They worked in silence, but as I was about to confront them, I washitby overpoweringmemories.
“Hold the cunt down,” Grim orders.
“Don’t youfuckingtouchher!”Ericscreeches, trying to pull out ofPyro’sgrip, even with his arms tied behind his back. His efforts earnhim a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him.
“No! Don’t,” I cry, my eyes stinging with tears as Buck and Butch, who are holding my arms, overpower me and drag me to the floor.
Catching his breath, Eric tries again to break free from Pyro’s grip, threatening to murder anyone who touches me, but freezing when Pyro produces a vicious knife and holds the sharp point against his throat.
