Watcher: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 1) by Steffanie Holmes Page B
Authors: Steffanie Holmes
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down, and cover yourself with something? I need to focus.”
“Ah, so you were looking.” He looked relieved as he plopped down on the sofa, and used a cushion to cover his crotch.
I wanted to deny it, but I figured there was no use. My head felt dizzy. I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining listening to what this guy had to say. It was that smile, it made me do things I wouldn’t normally do. I bet a lot of women did things they wouldn’t normally do, for that smile. “Just explain to me what all this is about, and explain carefully, because I have had a long day and I am very tired.”
“My name is Cole Erikson, and I am a Bran.” he said. “That is a shapeshifter: a human that can turn into a raven. We’re a very old species, maybe even older than humans, although our numbers are dwindling now. For centuries we’ve lived in secret in England, bound to stay here to protect the Empire. For a Bran is not a free creature: he or she is born a servant in a powerful family. Our duty is to spy for our masters, to patrol their land, to deliver messages, to send warnings, and upon their death, to facilitate the journey of their souls into the underworld.”
I remembered a visit to the Tower of London with my mother, from when I was much younger. She and I sat in the courtyard and fed the ravens bread from our ham sandwiches. One of the guides had told me that if the tower ravens were to be lost or fly away, then the crown would fall, and Britain along with it. At the time I thought it was just a story they told tourists, but listening to Cole, I wasn’t so sure.
“Which family do you belong to?” I asked, wondering if he had royal connections. Maybe if I helped him, he could get the Queen to wipe all my debt. Now that would almost compel me to forgive him for the home invasion.
“The Morchards,” he answered. “The oldest and richest noble family in Loamshire County. They live on the Morchard Estate, about twenty miles northeast of the village.”
“I know that place,” I said. “We used to go on school trips to look at the castle. They have a whole wing set up with medieval scenes and wax figures from Madame Tussauds. And there’s a—”
“—trebuchet in the courtyard. I know.” Cole sighed. “Victor Morchard is quite fond of his family’s brutal past. He can trace his family history back to the Norman kings. They’ve held that castle in their possession since the tenth century. There’s some fine examples of gargoyles carved by French artists—”
“You didn’t strike me as an architecture buff.”
“It’s part of the business.” Cole said. “When you’re a raven, you spend a lot of time perching on things. You tend to develop a bit of snobbery about architraves and gargoyles.”
“I see. So let’s say I believe that you’re a man who can change into a bird; why do you need my help?”
Cole pointed to his leg. “I thought it was obvious. I can’t go back there. I need a place to crash, and they wouldn’t think to look for me here.”
“Wait, what?”
He held up his hand, showing me the black ring. I peered closer, and noticed the skin around the ring was red and inflamed. I reached out to touch it, but Cole snapped his hand away.
“If you touch it, Morchard may be able to track you down. Besides,” he winced again. “It’s very hot.”
“It’s burning you?” He nodded miserably. “But why? That’s barbaric.”
“The ring is a bond. It ties me to my master. I am Victor Morchard’s slave, and he uses this ring to control me. Right now I am far from where I should be, I am not performing my duties, and so the ring punishes me.”
“Can your master also track you through the ring?” I looked toward the door, wondering what would happen to me if Cole’s master suddenly barged in and found his servant naked on my sofa.
Thankfully, Cole was shaking his head. “This is ancient magic, and it’s not that sophisticated. I’ve never been allowed a mobile
“Ah, so you were looking.” He looked relieved as he plopped down on the sofa, and used a cushion to cover his crotch.
I wanted to deny it, but I figured there was no use. My head felt dizzy. I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining listening to what this guy had to say. It was that smile, it made me do things I wouldn’t normally do. I bet a lot of women did things they wouldn’t normally do, for that smile. “Just explain to me what all this is about, and explain carefully, because I have had a long day and I am very tired.”
“My name is Cole Erikson, and I am a Bran.” he said. “That is a shapeshifter: a human that can turn into a raven. We’re a very old species, maybe even older than humans, although our numbers are dwindling now. For centuries we’ve lived in secret in England, bound to stay here to protect the Empire. For a Bran is not a free creature: he or she is born a servant in a powerful family. Our duty is to spy for our masters, to patrol their land, to deliver messages, to send warnings, and upon their death, to facilitate the journey of their souls into the underworld.”
I remembered a visit to the Tower of London with my mother, from when I was much younger. She and I sat in the courtyard and fed the ravens bread from our ham sandwiches. One of the guides had told me that if the tower ravens were to be lost or fly away, then the crown would fall, and Britain along with it. At the time I thought it was just a story they told tourists, but listening to Cole, I wasn’t so sure.
“Which family do you belong to?” I asked, wondering if he had royal connections. Maybe if I helped him, he could get the Queen to wipe all my debt. Now that would almost compel me to forgive him for the home invasion.
“The Morchards,” he answered. “The oldest and richest noble family in Loamshire County. They live on the Morchard Estate, about twenty miles northeast of the village.”
“I know that place,” I said. “We used to go on school trips to look at the castle. They have a whole wing set up with medieval scenes and wax figures from Madame Tussauds. And there’s a—”
“—trebuchet in the courtyard. I know.” Cole sighed. “Victor Morchard is quite fond of his family’s brutal past. He can trace his family history back to the Norman kings. They’ve held that castle in their possession since the tenth century. There’s some fine examples of gargoyles carved by French artists—”
“You didn’t strike me as an architecture buff.”
“It’s part of the business.” Cole said. “When you’re a raven, you spend a lot of time perching on things. You tend to develop a bit of snobbery about architraves and gargoyles.”
“I see. So let’s say I believe that you’re a man who can change into a bird; why do you need my help?”
Cole pointed to his leg. “I thought it was obvious. I can’t go back there. I need a place to crash, and they wouldn’t think to look for me here.”
“Wait, what?”
He held up his hand, showing me the black ring. I peered closer, and noticed the skin around the ring was red and inflamed. I reached out to touch it, but Cole snapped his hand away.
“If you touch it, Morchard may be able to track you down. Besides,” he winced again. “It’s very hot.”
“It’s burning you?” He nodded miserably. “But why? That’s barbaric.”
“The ring is a bond. It ties me to my master. I am Victor Morchard’s slave, and he uses this ring to control me. Right now I am far from where I should be, I am not performing my duties, and so the ring punishes me.”
“Can your master also track you through the ring?” I looked toward the door, wondering what would happen to me if Cole’s master suddenly barged in and found his servant naked on my sofa.
Thankfully, Cole was shaking his head. “This is ancient magic, and it’s not that sophisticated. I’ve never been allowed a mobile
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