Chapter 3
THREE
Kai banged on the door of the little cottage at the end of the winding, limestone road, hoping like hell he had the right one.
In the dark, the nondescript cabins with their moss-covered roofs and forest green walls blended in among the overgrown cypress trees and coastal redwoods.
There was nothing to distinguish one remote cottage from the next—no structural variations, no house numbers, no landscaping to speak of.
Just a sea of green on the fog-shrouded Calera hills overlooking the ocean.
Nothing except the lingering scent of Kai’s best friend and the corvids that had roosted in the trees around the cottage at the end of the road.
He lifted his fist to knock again, but the door swung open before his knuckles met wood.
“What?” the man who wasn’t Paris demanded.
He stood in the barely open doorway, one hand on the jamb, the other on the door, blocking anyone’s entry or view into the cottage with his tall, rangy frame.
His jet-black hair was ruffled, his dress shirt untucked and unbuttoned, a rosy blush highlighting his tan torso and face.
From the anger shining in his violet eyes? Or something else?
“What do you want?” the shifter barked again at Kai.
Between the eyes, the familiar flutter of his heartbeat, and the trees full of corvids outside, Kai could guess at what sort.
And from his own research and what his friend had told him about the events of earlier that month, he could guess which one in particular.
“I need to speak to Paris,” he told Cormac Kelley, the Talahalusi detective and reaper for the Monte Corvo ravens.
“Who?” Kelley feigned surprise, but the way his vibrating energy snapped from anger to alarm, his gaze scanning the area behind Kai and his fingers white knuckling the door, gave the truth away.
Kai had come to the right place. He squared his shoulders and pretended he wasn’t a half foot shorter than the other shifter. “Paris Cirillo.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“I know he’s here.”
“How’s that?”
Kai’s “Because I can smell him” collided with Paris’s “Because I told him,” the only human among them ducking under one of the detective’s arms. Dressed in sweatpants and an unzipped hoodie, he barreled toward Kai, engulfing him in a hug and ignoring Kelley’s indignant “You what?”
Kai supposed the detective’s question could be directed at him too, and he would have answered if not for his best friend’s big body muffling his reply.
After the past twenty-four hours of sleepless hell, Kai took a moment to savor the closeness, to take comfort in the knowledge at least one of his best friends was safe.
Paris squeezed him tight, his skin fire-warmed, and when he drew back, his human eyes were a lovely, welcoming shade of brown.
Nothing like Kai’s colored-lens version.
“I missed you,” Paris said to him, then to Kelley, “He’s a friend. One of my best.”
“No one is supposed to know you’re here,” Kelley said, strain in his voice. “Not after the last time.”
Paris slid from Kai’s arms to Kelley’s side and gently patted his chest. “It’s fine.
We can trust him.” He petted the shifter’s chest in more than his usual tactile manner, and the detective seemed to settle a measure.
“Now can we let him in before the witches get even more curious. The crows are audience enough.”
Swayed, at least for the moment, the detective stepped back enough for Paris to drag Kai inside by the wrist. The cabin was cozy, a single room except for the enclosed space in the back corner that Kai assumed was the bathroom.
To their right was a large, rumpled bed; in the middle of the space, where they stood, an oversize couch and chair; and in the other corners, a rustic kitchen and a table in front of a hearth.
By the look of it, Paris had been here awhile.
The jazz music he preferred played quietly from a device somewhere, the walls were splashed with vibrant colors, and vases of wildflowers dotted every surface, spilling their own color into the space.
Paris spilling his colorful personality all over, something his overbearing, toxic father had never let him do.
Kelley, who had also been here awhile judging by the case files strewn on the table, clearly didn’t mind.
“What are you doing here?” Paris asked, drawing Kai’s attention back to him.
“Better question,” Kelley said as he crossed his arms. “Why didn’t the crows alert me that you were here in the first place?”
Kai shifted his grip, clasping Paris’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “You gotta promise not to be mad at me. This wasn’t about you.”
He looked confused, but in typical Paris fashion, his heart outweighed his head. “I missed you too much to be mad.”
Kai wasn’t sure that would hold, but he could practically feel the tension rolling off Kelley.
He was protective of Paris, and for that, Kai was grateful and owed him the truth.
He dropped Paris’s hand and held his own out to the detective.
“Because I’m one of you,” he finally answered. “Kai Finley.”
Paris’s gasp was beat by Kelley’s; as soon as he’d slipped his hand into Kai’s, he’d known what he was. Or rather, his raven had. “What’s your real name?” he asked.
“Kaimus. Finley was my father’s surname. My mother’s was Kasta.”
“Haida?”
He nodded.
“I thought your kind were gone.”
“Not gone. Just hiding.”
“Cormac Kelley. It’s an honor. And please, call me Mac.”
Paris slid in between them, and his dark brows furrowed as his confused glare bounced between them. “I’m lost. Can someone please explain?”
“You didn’t know he was a raven?” Mac said.
“Clearly not.” He pointed at Kai’s face. “And his eyes are brown.”
“Not really,” Kai said. He stepped away, withdrawing a case out of his pocket and, after setting it on the table, popped out his lenses and placed them inside. When he turned back around and met Paris’s gaze, his friend’s eyes grew wide. Then whipped to Mac’s.
“They’re not purple like yours.”
“No, because he’s a different kind of raven. He’s special, Paris.”
“Well, the special part I knew,” Paris said, but the easy affection in his voice dwindled when he glanced back at Kai, and the hurt Kai hadn’t wanted to see before dimmed his friend’s lovely brown eyes. “But the other . . .”
Kai caught his hand again between both of his. “I’m sorry. With your dad, I couldn’t risk him finding out what I was.”
Beside them, Mac raked a hand through his hair. “Does anyone in YB know?”
“Our other best friend, Jason. He’s the only person I told.”
Paris’s hand jerked in his. “Where is he?”
“That’s why I’m here. I think he’s in trouble.” He shifted his gaze to Mac. “The raven knows he is.”
“Jason’s always in trouble,” Paris said.
Truth, but this time it was different. So different that it had driven Kai the opposite direction from where his raven wanted to be.
Had driven him to take desperate measures, to use the safe house address Paris had given him in case of emergencies, because this was one.
And between what Paris had told him and what he’d looked up about Detective Kelley and his connections, there was no better group of people to understand that he needed to find his heart.
He glanced back at Mac and lifted his free hand, splaying it over his chest. “It burns.”