Chapter 9 The Present
“What happened out there?” Nathaniel asks minutes later. “What did you do to make it this way?”
I blink at him, slow.
“I didn’t do anything.”
The breath barely leaves my lips before the doors slam open behind Nathaniel.
Cassian stalks through first, shoving them closed so violently the entire glass frame shudders in its moorings.
Outside, every bird perched along the railing erupts upward in a single violent burst of wings before settling again almost instantly.
Talon barrels in a second later, shoving the slingshot into his pocket like he’d rather snap it in half. He’s muttering short, clipped curses under his breath.
Both of them look wrecked.
Hair mussed. Skin damp. Dirt streaked across cheekbones and jawlines.
But they don’t have scratches. Not as deep as mine anyway.
Nathaniel doesn’t even spare them a glance when they stop beside him. His gaze stays fixed on me as though he hasn’t blinked since the first question.
“I’m not accusing you,” he says. “I just need to know if something, anything, happened before they attacked. Because that wasn’t random. They were focused on you.”
“No shit,” Talon mutters, dragging a forearm across his forehead and smearing the dirt wider. “They ignored me completely, and I was practically begging for it.”
Cassian steps closer. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
His gaze drops to the line of blood on my cheek—exactly where their claws raked me—and his jaw tightens so violently I swear I hear the teeth-grind. He takes one more step, like he’s about to inspect the damage himself, but Nathaniel slices right between us and takes over.
“Walk us through it. What did you two talk about? You were gone for a while.” His fingers skim my jaw, tilting my face toward the light.
My first instinct is to say nothing. We were just talking, after all. About the ICU room, the clothes. Talon told me about the sweatpants I’m wearing and how he got them, that sort of thing.
Then I remember what happened before that, and my heart skips.
My pulse stutters. I smooth my blouse down. Or what’s left of it. Torn open in clean claw arcs. If I tug any harder I’ll just rip it all the way off.
I meet Nathaniel’s eyes.
“Talon and I fucked,” I say.
There it is.
Nathaniel’s eyes fly wide. Cassian’s head whips toward me so fast I’m bracing for a vertebra ricochet. Somewhere behind them, Talon exhales sharply through his nose.
“Well, that’s one way to skip the small talk,” he mutters.
“You asked what we talked about,” I say with a shrug. “Technically, it was more of a… nonverbal exchange of ideas.”
“Uh, alright. That’s an unusual event, sure. But how come it made the crows flock?” Nathaniel asks.
“I… don’t know. Honestly, I’m not even sure that was it—it took them a while to show up after we were… finished.”
My tongue burns a little. I glance at Talon over Nathaniel’s shoulder. He gives me the sliest little smirk.
“I concur,” he says.
Nathaniel’s fingers drop from my jaw. He turns away, rummages for something, and comes back with antiseptic in hand.
“Anything else happen?” he asks.
“No,” I reply. “But I think I know what it’s about—and it’s not really between me and Talon.”
“What is it, then?” Cassian asks.
“Remember how I told you that the teenage kid was actually Pain—my raven?”
“Vividly,” he says.
Nathaniel wets a wipe and presses it to my cheek. It stings.
“I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I actually met him today,” I continue. “Right after Nathaniel left me alone upstairs. I knew he was part of me, so I figured he might show up if I called for him. He did. That’s when he warned me about… other Grims.”
Silence folds between us.
Before I became human again, I thought these three knew everything there was to know about the supernatural. Turns out they know a lot, but not everything. There’s a whole world out there none of us are ready for.
I guess this is one of those things.
“Other Grims?” Talon asks. “What do they have to do with anything? They’re pretty much shells. They have no free will. Not like you did.”
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s why it was so weird. Pain didn’t explain. Just said I’d ‘see.’”
Cassian’s brows pull together. “And you think this was it? Them—” he gestures toward the world outside, where the crows have finally settled, “—swarming you?”
“I think it’s too much of a coincidence not to be.” I lean back against the wall, feeling the cold bite through the holes in my blouse. “Pain shows up, drops this cryptic crap about other Grims, gives me some of his power, and not an hour later… this.” I motion to the scratches on my face.
Nathaniel tilts his head. “He gave you power?”
“Yeah. Apparently he could’ve done it any time in the last three days but didn’t.
Cassian’s jaw ticks, but he stays quiet. Nathaniel studies me like he’s trying to assemble a puzzle with half the pieces missing.
“And what exactly did he say about these ‘other Grims’?” Nathaniel presses.
“That they’re predators,” I say, my voice tightening despite myself. “That if I look weak, they’ll push.”
Talon snorts. “That’s not much of a warning. That’s just life.”
I give him a look. How profound.
He grins and shrugs.
“You should’ve told us earlier,” Cassian mutters.
“There was no time or place.”
“There’s always time and place for these things, Skye,” he disagrees. “Doesn’t matter what’s happening—sky’s falling, we have to run or fight—you tell us those things. We’re in this together now. As your teammates, we need to know what’s going on.”
“I agree with Cassian,” Nathaniel says. “Next time, just shout whatever, even if Talon’s throwing a tantrum.”
I glance at Talon. He nods.
“I appreciate you prioritizing my mood, Little Grim, but your safety’s the priority for me.”
That earns him brief looks from Nathaniel and Cassian. But they share the sentiment, because both nod too—all three of them on the same page.
I guess I should’ve just spilled everything from the start. I blame not doing so on Pain, who’d already been trying to mess with my head, making me doubt if I could trust them.
I knew I could, though.
“Noted,” I breathe.
“Alright,” Cassian sighs. “Can you summon him right now?”
“Summon who?” I echo, momentarily losing the thread.
“Your raven,” he clarifies. “If he knows something, we need to know it too.”
A short, humorless laugh escapes me. “Yeah, believe me… he made it clear he doesn’t want to see me much.”
“Force him, then,” Cassian says.
“I… can’t,” I admit, meeting his eyes. “He’s stronger than me. The last time he came when I called was because he pitied me, not because I had any leverage.”
“So he’s autonomous from you?” Nathaniel asks.
“‘Auxiliary’ was the word he used.”
“Is he controlling your power completely?” he presses.
“I—” My throat clicks. “It seemed like it.”
That earns me another long, silent moment—until Talon’s eyes widen like a thought just climbed up his spine.
He snaps his fingers.
“Wait. Hold up.”
His gaze cuts to me, sharp and bright. “Did you get a power-up from me fucking your brains out?”
That’s… My cheeks flare at the wording.
“Talon,” I warn under my breath.
But what can I say?
He’s crass. He’s filthy. And he’s got a point. Sex has a history of powering me up.
“If you need just a little more charge to summon the fucker,” he murmurs, “say the word, baby.”
I feel the offer in my core.
My mouth runs faster than my self-preservation. “I wish,” I murmur, before sanity can slam a hand over my lips.
Talon smiles like a goddamn wolf. Cassian’s expression flickers. It’s shock first, then something darker. Territorial. Maybe murderous. Maybe both.
Nathaniel? A faint quirk of the mouth betrays that he’s enjoying this.
Heat coils low inside me, vicious and inconvenient.
“Unfortunately,” I say quickly, clearing my throat and dragging my gaze away from Talon’s insufferable, devastating smirk, “it wasn’t like that this time.
I think—” I hesitate, tasting the shift in me like electricity under my skin.
“I think something’s changed since I woke up.
Talon didn’t fuel me. What we did was normal. No power involved.”
Truthfully, I don’t like it. Not that sex didn’t charge me— but what that means.
Every time I think I understand myself, something else cracks open: a new rule, a new limit, a new piece of me I never asked for.
Would be nice to know the rules for once, instead of always stumbling in the dark.
“So…” Talon puckers his lips and lifts both brows. “Can’t summon him?”
I stare at him. “Nope.”
Cassian and Nathaniel exchange a look. Something silent passes between them before Talon whistles, hooks his hands behind his neck, and stretches as he strolls to the sofa.
He drops onto it like he’s just heard the best news in the world, grinning as if a swarm of angry, sentient crows isn’t squatting outside the building.
“Well, all things considered,” he says, “I think it’s a good thing.”
I follow him, Cassian and Nathaniel slowly getting along behind me.
“Why’s that a good thing?” I ask—
—and then I pass the window.
And oh.
The crows.
Not a handful.
Not even dozens.
Hundreds.
A living tapestry of black feathers and cold, glassy eyes stretches as far as I can see.
Ledges stacked three deep. Power lines sag under their collective weight.
Trees so densely covered it looks like the leaves have been replaced by wings, beaks, and sharp little heads. All pointed inward, toward me.
If I were still human, a real one, and saw this outside my window, I’d assume I’d slept through the trumpet section of the apocalypse and woke up at the omen stage. It’s the kind of sight that makes you immediately call a therapist, a will lawyer, and a fucking bunker contractor.
And it presents another problem: abandoned hospitals only stay abandoned when nothing draws attention. But a biblical crow-plague? That’s catnip for morbid curiosity. One kid with a camera phone and a TikTok account that hasn’t been throttled yet, and suddenly we’re a trending hashtag.