Jen Pretty Read online

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  BLACK CROW

  Jen Pretty

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  SOONER OR LATER EVEN THE

  FASTEST RUNNERS HAVE TO

  STAND AND FIGHT

  —STEVEN KING

  1

  CHAPTER ONE

  I pulled my hoodie up to cover my long hair and strode

  through the darkened streets. Murkwood Cemetery was a

  few blocks away. It was my favourite in the city because it

  was dark and big enough, I could hide from view over a

  small hill, giving me all the privacy I needed.

  Sometimes teenagers would drink among the

  gravestones, but they never saw me in my dark clothes.

  The skin prickled on my neck, and I spun around. I

  surveyed the street but didn’t see anyone behind me. A cat

  meowed from an alley. I huffed a laugh at myself for being

  so jumpy. I should be used to the dark by now, but it still

  gave me the creeps. It was ridiculous, considering.

  The dew had already fallen as I walked across the grass

  between the gravestones. Water collected on my boots and

  flicked off my toes with each step. My fingers ran over the

  tops of the granite monuments. Marking the places where

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  those long-passed were laid to eternal rest. Well, eternal

  was a bit false.

  Something familiar stirred inside me and beckoned me

  towards a back corner of the old graveyard. The grave I

  wanted came into view, lit up like the fourth of July on the

  moonlit night. Sparks danced around the space where a

  family had laid a body to rest decades ago, summoning me

  to join.

  I stepped forward, the pressure inside me growing

  towards an overwhelming crescendo. My boots met the

  edge of the glowing rectangle a moment before my knees

  met the wet grass. The flames swirled and consumed me,

  flowing into a circle of blue sparks, encircling the grave of

  a man named Edward Mass.

  I took out my pocketknife and slit my forearm.

  As the first drop of blood slid off my skin and into the

  grass, the blue glitter sunk into the earth. A moment later

  I was sitting in the grass with an elderly man.

  Except the man was shadowy and hollow, like the

  wraith, he was.

  “Hey, Edward. How’s it going?” I asked, settling into

  the grass. All the fire that had collected in my body had

  drained away, and I felt relaxed and giddy.

  “I’m so alone,” he whispered.

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  I looked around and realized the grave beside his, with

  the name Margaret Mass, had a date of birth but no date of

  death. Poor lady was still kicking somewhere.

  “I’m sure she will be along soon.” I calculated her age;

  she would be one hundred and one years old this year. I

  hoped I didn’t live that long

  “Have you seen my wife?” he asked. Some spirits were

  coherent; others just blathered about random things, so I

  was glad this sad fellow at least made sense.

  “I haven’t seen her, Ed.”

  He started to fade, his image weakening.

  “Been nice talking to ya,” I said. A smile creased his

  face, bringing a flash of life to his weary eyes.

  I squeezed my arm, dripping more blood into the grass

  and Ed faded away to nothing.

  I rose and dusted off my pants, my butt was damp from

  the dew, but I’d sat in worse. It was unbelievable how many

  people let their dog’s poop in graveyards. Disrespectful.

  I wiped my knife on my pants and folded it up, tucking

  it away in my pocket. The thin cut had stopped bleeding

  and crusted over. I would wash it when I got home. The

  small slice, though slow to heal, wouldn’t leave a scar no

  matter how many times I sliced in the same place.

  Handy for someone like me.

  3

  I turned towards the street, the moon guiding my

  footsteps between the tombstones. Up ahead I thought I

  saw movement in a shadow again. The hairs rose on the

  back of my neck, and I halted.

  A figure stepped out into the streetlight. I was a few

  hundred feet from the sidewalk, but stood still, so did the

  figure. I assumed it was a man, based on his height and

  width of his shoulders. He wore a broad-brimmed hat,

  pulled low to hide his features in shadows, and a long

  trench coat. When he didn’t move, I started to move

  parallel to the street, trying to get around him.

  “Shit,” I whispered, tripping over a flat grave marker. I

  looked back, but the man had disappeared. Scanning the

  area, there was no sign of him.

  I hustled back to the sidewalk and towards my

  apartment, looking over my shoulder every few steps. Had

  he seen what I did in the graveyard? He couldn’t have. I

  was way in the back — freaking weirdo.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Back in my apartment, I flicked on the TV and flopped

  down on my futon. I lived in a tiny bachelor apartment a

  few blocks from work. The news on TV was still talking

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  about the dead girl who washed up on the bank of the river

  last week. They hadn’t identified her yet.

  I flipped to a sitcom and lay down, pulling my blanket

  over myself. The sound of the baby crying in apartment

  6D came through the thin walls, and I turned up the TV a

  bit louder to compensate.

  By the time the show was over, the baby was sleeping,

  and my eyes were getting heavy. I flicked off my lamp and

  fell asleep.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I blocked out the heat from

  the grill as I flipped a burger patty the next day. I could do

  this in my sleep. My hand automatically scooped and

  turned effortlessly as the grease sizzled. To my right, an

  order of onion rings danced in a deep fryer — my specialty.

  “Move your ass, Selena, I got more orders coming,”

  Angela said. She stabbed four more slips of paper to the

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  wall above the window between my little kitchen and the

  dining area.

  “Shit,” I whispered, pulling the rings out of the grease

  and shaking the excess off before dumping them in the

  paper-lined basket.

  I plopped three burgers on the prepared buns and

  plated them with fries held in the warmer. All the plates

  went into the window, and I hit the bell to let Angela know

  they were ready. Every shift was the same, the spitting

  grease, the sizzles, the bell, but predictable was perfect for

  me. I knew where everything was and where everything

  went. The kitchen was my oasis.

  “God, people don’t realize their leftovers could feed

  starving children in Africa,” Georgia muttered. She set a

  stack of plates beside the sinks on the opposite side of the

  kitchen. “You.” She pointed at me as I put lettuce on buns

  for the hamburgers I was cooking. “You have to come out

&nbs
p; with us tonight. We’re going to the new club on 5th street.

  It's supposed to be amazing.”

  I groaned.

  “Come on! I want to see the new DJ, Vanessa said he

  was hot.”

  “Vanessa says everyone is hot.” I checked the new

  orders and put on two more baskets of onion rings. I was

  running low on onion rings. Busy night.

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  “Yes, but she’s always right. She has great taste in

  men.”

  I laughed and plated more burgers and fries. “How

  about this, I’ll come but just for a few hours? I have to

  work tomorrow morning again.”

  “You won’t regret it,” she said as she dashed off to

  gather more dishes.

  Pretty sure I would regret it, I shook my head and

  focused on my work. I flipped burgers and plated orders

  until closing time, not a single moment of rest until the last

  customer left and the doors locked.

  “You should come to my place, I have something you

  can wear,” Georgia said. She hopped up to sit on the

  counter while I scraped the grease trap and closed up the

  kitchen for the night.

  “All right, but nothing too short. I want to be able to

  sit down without flashing my underwear. And no high

  heels.” My hair kept falling in my face. I should have kept

  the stupid itchy hair net on till I finished.

  “Hey, Selena. Here are your tips.” Angela put a handful

  of coins in the window and walked away. I looked from the

  money to Georgia who was biting her lip to keep from

  laughing.

  “You’re buying the first round,” I said, and she burst

  out, her laughter echoing through the empty restaurant.

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  When the kitchen was clean enough, I flicked off the

  lights and locked the door behind us. We strolled down the

  street towards Georgia's apartment arm in arm. She only

  lived three blocks away. We passed my apartment building,

  and my legs tried to carry me to my bed. Georgia’s firm

  grip on my arm dragged me the rest of the way to her place.

  Her building had an elevator that worked, the one in

  my building had not worked a day since I moved in two

  years ago. Luckily, I didn’t have much stuff. Georgia, on

  the other hand, packed her apartment with knick-knack's

  and furniture and kitchen appliances. I usually baked in her

  kitchen since mine only had a coffee maker and one pot I

  used for everything. Georgia was a hoarder, but a lovable

  one. She and I became fast friends on my first day of work

  in the diner.

  “Here, try this on,” she said, throwing something

  sequined at me. I thought it was a shirt, but as I held it up,

  I realized it was a dress. Or at least trying to be a dress.

  Maybe for a doll.

  “It’s way too short,” I complained.

  “Just try it, it stretches,” she muttered as she climbed

  back out of her overstuffed closet. There was no way she

  found anything in there.

  I stepped into the bathroom and out of my French fry

  scented work clothes. I pulled the tiny dress on, looked in

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  the mirror and sighed. She would say it’s perfect, so I

  accepted my fate.

  “The dress is fine. I'll have a quick shower,” I called

  through the door as I turned on the hot water. Music

  started up from the living room.

  I showered and blow dried my long dyed brown hair.

  The colour was fading making it look almost strawberry

  blond. I would have to dye it again soon, or the natural

  colour would come through. Stark white hair made me

  stand out, and that was a dangerous thing to do -- standing

  out. My adoptive mother would have a cow if she saw me

  in this bright glittery dress. It did not blend in.

  I stepped out of the bathroom, and there was a pair of

  foot-killing, three-inch heels sitting against the wall. I could

  have argued, but Georgia was really much better at the

  clothes and shoes. In Georgia I trust. I slipped them on

  and clicked my way across the laminate floor to the kitchen

  where I found Georgia ready to hit the club.

  “Oh my God, you look so hot! I don’t know why you

  always wear boring clothes. If I had your body, I would

  never wear clothes,” she gushed, grabbing my hand and

  spinning me around.

  “Why am I friends with you?” I asked, laughing at her

  antics.

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  “Because I’m the only one who would talk to you,

  loner. Now let’s go. We have men to drool over.”

  She hooked her arm in mine, and we walked out to the

  cab that was waiting at the curb for us.

  People packed the club. Georgia grabbed my hand as

  soon as we walked in and dragged me to the bar. If she

  hadn’t, the writhing masses would have swallowed me, and

  I would have never found my way out. The music pounded

  in my chest like a second heartbeat, but the DJ was great.

  We hadn’t set eyes on him yet, but his music was the best

  I heard in the city.

  As we waited for our drinks, I couldn’t sit, thanks to

  the ultra-short dress I was wearing. I knew I would regret

  this. Georgia pulled me and my martini to the side of the

  room where the rest of her friends were standing around a

  high table.

  “Georgie!” Vanessa called out, running small little

  steps on 6-inch heels to throw her arms around Georgia.

  She grabbed me next and pulled me into a group hug,

  bouncing.

  “Did you guys see the DJ?” She pointed towards the

  front of the nightclub.

  “No, we just got here,” Georgia yelled back.

  Vanessa screamed and dragged us both away. I waved

  over my shoulder to the gang who were watching us and

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  laughing. Vanessa was a hurricane, and God help you if you

  were in her path. She pulled us to the side wall so we could

  get a look at this gorgeous guy.

  We all went on tiptoes to see past the crowd. The music

  was so loud, I almost didn't notice the tingle in my

  fingertips, but when my eyes caught on the man in the

  booth, I clenched my fists and locked the tingle down

  before it got out of control. The DJ looked like a drool-

  worthy 20-something. His hair was blue and cut in an edgy

  style that lots of guys were doing now — shaved on the

  sides and longer on top. He was tall and lithe, with a strong

  jaw that could have put him on the cover of any magazine,

  but he wasn’t a person.

  He was a vampire.

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  CHAPTER TWO

  I slunk back against the wall and took deep breaths

  while Georgia and Vanessa were still ogling the dead guy.

  Controlling the magic that tried to lash out was easy most

  of the time, but around dead stuff, it had a mind of its own.

  I threw back the last of my martini, hissed at the burn of

  alcohol and moved back to the bar for a refill.

  “Did you see him?” Vanessa gushed as she and

  Georgia caught up to me.

  “Yeah, he’s great!” I yelle
d over the music. The

  bartender was a young guy with lots of piercings. He gave

  me a wink as he set a second martini on the bar for me and

  I shot him a grin.

  Vanessa and Georgia disappeared, probably to the

  bathroom, so I took my drink and slipped through the

  crowd to where the guys were standing.

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  The group had been friends long before I came along.

  They went to the same school and still hung out on Friday

  nights and played in a recreational baseball team together.

  It was what I wished for. Roots.

  They never made me feel like an outsider intentionally,

  but their history together was so long, I felt that way

  anyway.

  When Georgia and Vanessa returned, we all danced for

  a few hours. I kept my back to the DJ so my magic

  wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want it too. I was hot and

  sweaty by the time midnight rolled around, partly because

  the club was hot, but also from focusing so hard on not

  exploding. I felt it the moment the DJ left. My magic finally

  calmed under my skin. The music was on a loop now, but

  no one really noticed since they were all drunk.

  “I’m going to go,” I yelled to the group after checking

  the time.

  “NO! Stay!” Vanessa screamed.

  I smiled and shook my head and then tapped my wrist

  like there was a watch on it.

  Vanessa’s pout rivalled any four years old around the

  world, but Georgia hugged me and said good night. I

  waved to the rest of the group and pressed my way out into

  the cool night air.

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  “You shouldn’t walk alone,” the bouncer said as I

  walked down the steps and passed the cab waiting at the

  curb.

  “I’m just going to call a cab,” I said, lifting my cell so

  he could see it.

  “Be careful.”

  I thanked him over my shoulder. As I turned back, I

  ran straight into a hard chest.

  “Whoa, you OK?” a male voice asked.

  I jumped back, realizing it was the DJ from the

  nightclub — the vampire — when my magic jumped to

  life.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Just, in a hurry, sorry,” I said, stepping

  past him and hustling up the street.