Ravensong (Green Creek 2)

The others were there. In my head. But they were faint. They would know what had happened. Know what we’d done. At least Ox and Joe would. They would know to stay away. Mark wouldn’t want them coming here so soon after.

I moved my hand from around his neck and—

My eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

I coughed, a lump suddenly in my throat. I never thought of this. What it would mean for him. I wasn’t a wolf. I couldn’t bite him. Not like he’d done to me. It would have healed quickly, no matter the intent. He would not have carried my mark, not like I carried his.

I should have known it’d be something else.

There, embedded into the skin of his neck, was a raven, a near twin to the one on my arm.

It was no bigger than the width of my hand. Its wings spread to either side of his throat. Its head was bowed, resting over his Adam’s apple, and when he swallowed it looked as if it was moving. Its talons and the fan of its tail feathers stretched toward the hollow of his throat.

I had his mark on me.

And now he had mine.

I reached down and touched the wings. They felt warm beneath my fingers.

“What is it?” he asked again, tilting his head back to allow me better access. “My throat is—it feels strange. Did you bruise me?”

I shook my head. “My magic, it—everyone will know now. Here. The tips of the wings go to here.” I ran my finger along the length of the feathers. “And the head is here. The tail feathers here.”

“A raven.”

“Yes. I didn’t—I didn’t know that would happen.”

“Does it look like yours?”

“Exactly like mine.”

He pulled me down and kissed me, deep and slow. There was blue there, still. I thought maybe it was part of us. But it was quiet under all the green. “Good,” he whispered against my lips. “Good, good, good.”

open the door/make them pay

I WOKE to a furious pounding on the door.

I opened my eyes slowly. It took me a moment to remember where I was. And what had happened.

My body was sore. My neck throbbed. Muscles ached.

But it was more than that. There was an undercurrent to it all, something wild that I couldn’t get a grasp on.

It was dark. Snow lashed against the window.

I reached for Mark and—

The space next to me in the bed was empty.

And cold.

There again came a knocking at my chamber door.

“Nevermore,” I muttered, groaning as I pushed myself up and out of the bed.

I found a pair of sweats on the floor and slid them on. The air was cool. My skin pebbled.