Page 24 of The Crow Games
Asher. The crow had a name.
A midnight hood hid most of the reaper’s face, but I felt his piercing eyes fall on me. “I’ve never met a gray before.”
“What a treat for you, then, my friend,” Nott said.
I swayed on my feet, my energy was so low. The fumes of my spirit sputtered in my chest. “The barrier,” I panted, remembering myself, “is it down now?”
“It went down the second you stepped into the circle.” Nott played with his rings, twisting them on his fingers, his fascination with me already at an end. “If you’d like to have a few of the useless things from the gifts in the corner there, help yourself, darling.”
I collected my revolver first, dusting it down with the only part of my shirtwaist that wasn’t caked in dirt or stained with dried blood. Then I hobbled over to the pile of supplies and gathered what I could carry. My limbs felt like rubber, so it wasn’t much: a bag of garlic cloves, more salt, a fresh apple, a bristled tool that would come in handy when I needed to clean the revolver. Then there at the bottom of the pile, I spotted a pair of thick socks. Good, clean woolen socks. I snapped them up.
“Better hurry, pet,” Nott purred. “The Schatten departs soon.”
Chapter 6
“Items lost by mortals in the Upper Realm are said to be found again in the luggage compartments aboard Death’s train.”–Esther Weil, Renowned Folklorist
My coven gathered in the same lounge car I’d met most of them in before the trial. The sight of them renewed me. Ruchel crowed excitedly when she spotted me, an herbal poultice plastered to her swollen cheek. She threw her arms up into the air, grabbed Nola beside her around the neck, and shook her.
“It’s good to see you, old duck,” Nola said, chuckling. “We didn’t doubt you for a second.”
“Oh, you didn’t?” I quipped. “Then that’s not my things you’re dividing between you on the table there?”
Nola swept my belongings swiftly back into my satchel. “Certainly not.” Her smile turned sheepish.
“Don’t fuss. I know it’s good sense. I’m glad you didn’t give anything away, though.” I dumped the new supplies in front of our high witch, then returned my pocket pistol to the holster in my boot. “These are gifts from Nott. May they be a blessing on our new coven.”
Blue and the sisters huddled in the cushioned chairs beside me. Blue’s eyes had widened in delighted surprise when I entered the lounge, but now they narrowed to suspicious slits. Liesel whispered something hurried and anxious in her sister’s ear.
“You made it?” Blue said, the statement sounding too much like a question one might hurl in an interrogation. “You’re a witch with no chosen elemental specialty. And yet you made it . . .”
I picked out the socks from the pile and handed them to Ruchel. Her grateful smile stirred up my weak spirits, renewing a pinch of my spent energy.
“I made it,” I said cautiously to Blue. That witch was much too clever for her own good.
“Buthowdid you make it?” she demanded.
“Did you go after the basher’s eyes or his testicles?” Nola offered. “I told her to do that.” She winked at me, chest puffed out with pride.
“I went after his eyes,” I said honestly. They need not know how it had all ended. That sort of magic would only get me killed by an anxious witch in my sleep.
Blue protested, “But how does anyone—”
“I’m very lucky to be alive. I realize that’s not enough for you,” I said, struggling to keep my tone diplomatic, “but I’m exhausted and starving. Let me recuperate. I’ll share all the exciting details another time.”
Blue opened her mouth to argue further.
“We owe Maven our lives,” Ruchel said, an edge of command in her voice that brooked no argument.
Blue closed her mouth and kept it shut. Our high witch had spoken.
The train chimed three times before setting off through the underground tunnels. Food was served thereafter. Blue and the sisters didn’t join us in our dining car. The slight irked me. I wanted a true coven. We all needed it, and their distrust would only get in the way of that. But I was too spent to put any effort into growing a bond just now.
Different foods were served in each car. Nola moved between them, overfilling her plate, trying everything, putting away dishes in that way only a red witch could, renewing her energy stores to bursting. Ruchel ate with me in a car that was nearly empty.
“They serve a cuisine similar to Ashkish’s here. Food from my province,” she told me, her words muffled by her swollen injury and the dried herbal paste on her cheek. “The cars that serve meat are more popular.”
I knew Ashkish. My sister and I had traveled through it on a number of occasions, though we’d never made our home there. The population was small, but Universities were plentiful. They were credited with making great advancements in academia, with a particular interest in ethics and astronomy. Their flag was decorated with the great ash tree constellation, believed to always point a traveler north.
