Ravensong (Green Creek 2)

“Huh.” Rico picked up the phone from the dash and frowned down at it. “No bars.” He looked over at me. “Think it’s the storm?”

I shrugged. “Could be. We don’t have the best cell reception up here to begin with. Surprised you lasted this long. Though I don’t know that’s necessarily a bad thing.” I glanced down at my own phone. No service.

“Boss,” the CB crackled.

I picked up the receiver. “Yeah, Tanner.”

“You leave the garage door unlocked when we picked up the tow truck?”

“Yeah. Have Chris get out and open it up. We’ll—”

There wasn’t time to react. One moment Chris and Tanner and the tow truck were crossing the T intersection, pulling even with the diner off to their right. The next an old crew-cab truck with a black snowplow blade attached to the front slammed into the driver’s door of the tow truck. Rico shouted next to me, screaming Tanner and Chris and no no no as the tow truck began to tip onto its passenger-side wheels. The sedan being towed fishtailed to the left, then snapped right as the truck flipped onto its side, skidding in the snow. Metal shrieked as the boom pulled the car over along with the truck. It smashed into the diner front, glass breaking as the truck went into the diner.

I swerved hard left even as a bright burst of something exploded in my head, the old truck groaning as it began to slide on the slick surface. The steering wheel jerked in my hands as I struggled to hold on to it, gritting my teeth against the onslaught rolling over my body, my tattoos feeling like they were on fire. I thought we were going to tip over too, but somehow we stayed upright, coming to a stop yards away from the intersection.

Red blazed in my chest. The tangled roots were writhing.

“What the fuck!” Rico was screaming, voice breaking. “Gordo, what the fuck!”

The crew cab began to back away slowly. I groaned, bringing my hands up to my head, trying to focus, trying to clear my vision and—

“What do we do?” Rico asked frantically. “What do we do?”

“Something’s wrong,” I ground out as I looked back up. “Something’s—”

The passenger door on the crew cab opened.

A man rose from inside, standing against the door. He was wearing Kevlar, a balaclava covering his head and face. Goggles over his eyes. All I could make out was the tip of his nose, the white flash of teeth.

In his hands he held a semiautomatic rifle.

He pointed it directly at us, elbows resting on top of the door.

I grabbed Rico by the neck and shoved him down as gunfire erupted. The windshield shattered. Rico cried out, but I didn’t think he was hit. I couldn’t smell blood.

The raven spread its wings even as something tried to cage it.

I slammed my hand to the floor of the truck. The frame rattled as the pack bonds flared brightly, blue, ice blue, and red, red, red. I was buried in my fury, I was reveling in it, and deep in my head and heart, the roots of the threads that bound us together roiled like a den of snakes, thrumming and writhing.

But it felt different.

I couldn’t pick out the wolves.

I couldn’t hear them.

I was pissed.

The road cracked beneath the truck as I pushed.

I gritted my teeth as the pavement slid apart, shaking the truck around us as Main Street split right down the middle. The gunfire cut off, and I heard the man yelling back back back, and all I could think about was Chris and Tanner, Chris and Tanner, knowing they had to be hurt, knowing they had to be scared, and I wouldn’t stand for it. I wouldn’t stand for any of it.

“Stay here,” I growled at Rico.

“What? Gordo, no. We have to—”

I ignored him. I reached up and snapped off the rearview mirror. Cold air and snow blew in through the shattered windshield. Glass littered the dashboard.

I threw open the driver’s door. It creaked on its hinges.