Page 25 of Dead Vengeance

“But it’s not your bird?”

A laugh floats from the kitchen, fond and rich. “It’s not my bird.”

“But…” Its next soft croak comes with a lowering of its head, like it’s inviting me to pet it. All things considered, this is probably the least weird thing that’s happened to me in the last twenty-four hours, but it’s still very odd. Its feathers look sleek, shiny, and silky, and I can’t resist.

I reach out, slowly, and it tilts the top of its head towards my fingertips. It’s perfectly entrancing. I won’t pretend I’m not nervous. The bird is truly enormous. I’ve never seen a raven so big. But I can’t stop myself, and when I make contact, it’s so warm and soft, and it croaks in a pleased way.

“Hi,” I say to it, and it turns its head, rubbing its beak up the side of my finger.

“He likes you.”

I almost jump. Archer, here beside me suddenly, two hot cups of tea steaming in his hands. I’m thankful when he puts mine down on a side-table because I don’t want to have to stop petting this bird. “Edgar?”

“Edgar Allan Crow.”

I chuckle, despite everything, and trail my finger down his long beak. “But he’s a raven, isn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but the wordplay doesn’t work half as well if it’s ‘Edgar Allan Raven.’ Who’s going to call a bird Edgar Allan Raven?”

I glance up at him, taking in his fond smile at the bird as he strokes a hand over his feathers. “But isn’t it also a raven in the poem, not a crow?”

“Yes, but the point still stands.”

“What even is the difference between a crow and a raven?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever actually seen another raven, come to think of it. In real life. Except for at the Tower. Do we have many ravens in England?”

“Liam, I liked you a lot more before this recent interest in ornithology.”

“You liked…” Heat rushes to my face. I’m blushing. Actually blushing, standing a foot away from what may be the most handsome man in all of England.

No, no, don’t do this. He’s being friendly. Probably feels bad about all the… everything.

I don’t really want to turn around. I know there’s blood all over the rug. But just then my head does snap across, because with Raul’s strange recovery, finding Archer on the floor, this strange bird, I’ve missed something. And when my eyes fix on that scarlet mess, I realise what it is.

I search upwards automatically, finding the chandelier. The chandelier in place, hanging out of the ceiling, and there’s no way Archer could have fixed that in the time I was locked in that room. “What—”

“What the hell h-happened?” Raul cuts me off. “W-why am I c-covered in blood?” His teeth are chattering violently, his whole body shaking.

Then, just like that, he falls flat on the floor in a heap.

ten

Emergency Room 101

Archer

Raul’s fine. Really, he is. His symptoms are all very normal after being killed, possessed by a ghost, then resurrected. But I can hardly tell Liam that. Therefore, here we are, at Liam’s insistence, waiting in the emergency room at an enormous and overcrowded hospital. I did offer for them both to stay over at mine, to keep an eye on him, but for whatever reason, Liam wasn’t into that idea.

Probably the ghosts.

A nurse took Raul through a while ago, and somehow it’s made Liam even more anxious than the long wait with him here snoozing on the bench.

Liam’s made about twenty attempted phone calls to his boss, only one of which seems to have gone through, and now his knee is tapping in a way that makes me want to reach out and grab it to steady him.

I feel like we should go through the day’s events, but I don’t know where to begin. With tea, I suppose, maybe the sixth, which I bought several minutes ago and which I press into his hand now for the second time. His eyes shift briefly from frightened to thankful, then back again.