Raven Chapter 5 Arrivals and Autopsies 50
Raven
It's dark now as Leandre drives home with one hand on the wheel, the other gesturing along to the classical music. He looks put-together and relaxed.
Except I know that look. It's the calm before the mental list starts.
My suspicions are confirmed when he starts muttering.
Not about the day, but about tomorrow. And the next day.
"Clinic shift at seven… need to prep the new anticoagulants.
Hospital rounds at ten. The board meeting at two—need to have the quarterly report finalized by then.
Then back to the clinic for the evening walk-ins… "
His voice is low, methodical, rattling off a schedule with no breaks, designed to crush a lesser being. The only time he ever seems to allow for idle time is during commutes—but as I'm seeing right now, even those aren't anywhere near idle.
His expression tightens as he comes to the next day and finds, gods forbid, a few empty hours in the morning. He trails off, his fingers stilling on the wheel. Then he grabs his phone.
"Reminder for Friday morning. Use the open window to review the clinic's inventory spreadsheets and call in the weekly supply order." He sets the phone down and mutters, almost to himself, "Might as well be useful."
I groan. “Dre, you’re allowed to sleep in. Realms, you’re allowed to take an entire day off if you want to. You work enough. At some point, you need rest.” Per usual, he ignores me.
Oh well . One day I’ll have a voice and physical hands I can use to tie him to the couch and force snacks down his throat for an entire day if I need to.
It doesn't take him long to park and make his way up to the apartment using his security key.
And I mean a literal key—Em doesn't stand for digital card readers or anything so easily bypassed.
No, the man retrofitted the entire elevator system so the penthouse is accessible only via an insanely intricate magical skeleton key that looks like it belongs in a medieval castle.
The security desk has a separate protocol: they can call up to verify visitors, but they can't actually send anyone without one of the guys coming down to escort them. Which means even if someone compromised the desk, they'd still be staring at a locked elevator and a very long stairwell.
What can I say? The man is paranoid.
Leandre steps into the penthouse, already intent on his post-clinic sparkling water, when he freezes. His eyes lock onto the new 1950s-era blue-and-chrome behemoth now dominating the kitchen.
A hand raises to his chest as if physically warding off the sight. “Emerson. What… what have you done?” His voice is a mixture of genuine horror.
Emerson doesn’t even look up from calmly transferring a single test tube of blue liquid into its freezer, “A refrigeration unit. An unhackable refrigeration unit. The other one chattered.”
Hurt flickers across Dre's face—there and gone, quick as a blink.
He scrubs at the back of his neck. "I picked out the one I thought would be most helpful to everyone.
It even provided recipes for those of us who aren't as culinarily inclined as Anik.
" A beat. "Thought it would help Kieran avoid burning the place down when he wants to experiment. "
Emerson just shrugs. "It was a security risk. And it was… aesthetically displeasing."
Dre's hand drops from his neck. He stares at Emerson, and for a second he looks like someone who just offered a gift and got told it was the wrong color. Wrong shape. Wrong everything.
After watching Dre for years I know he researched refrigerators for hours. Then went and found recipes while also thinking about Kiearn. About all of them.
Anik may have controlled the delivery—timed it to the second to suit his micromanaged world—but Dre is the one who made it perfect. Or so he thought.
Well. Except for Em.
Though really—everyone should've guessed he'd worry about the security risks of a refrigerator.
"Sometimes, Em," I breathe out, my ghostly form flickering with a frustration intense enough to make me wish I could push the fridge over onto him, "you are really dense.
" Then I turn my focus to Dre, my voice softening to a whisper even though I'm the only one who'll hear this.
"I promise, when I'm a real girl, you can take care of me 24/7 and I will never complain. "
Fueled by that promise—and a surge of protective irritation—I float over to the fridge to see if my frustration is enough to actually push it onto Em. Let's be real: he's an elf with super-strength and cat-like reflexes. The fridge wouldn't even touch him. But the fantasy is nice.
My plan to finally, finally manifest enough oomph to knock over this stupid fridge is interrupted by the door. Anik and Miriam walk in, and because I went into this knowing it was a doomed mission, I decide the fridge can have this one. I concede defeat and drift down the hall in their wake.
I watch Miriam fuss over him as he sighs, pretending not to love it, before leading her into the main living space where all the guys have begun to congregate in anticipation of family night. Her eyes lock on Emerson first.
"You." Her finger comes up and seems to almost freeze him in place. "Elfo." I snort at the nickname. "When did you last sleep? You look like a ghost that's haunting itself."
Em just blinks. "I… don't require much rest. My elven physiology—"
"Nonsense." She pulls a thermos of soup out of her giant tote of a purse like some sort of wizard. "Eat the soup."
He stammers before getting out, "I—thank you. That's… very kind."
Her attention snaps to Forrest. "And you! CEO man. Are you taking better care of yourself?"
He nods and stiffly says, "Yes.”
“So you ate lunch today?” She asks, not believing him for a second.
He stiffens, “Lunch was a necessary sacrifice today because I had to plan—"
She interrupts him as well. Gods, I love this woman . "Plans don't feed the soul. Soup feeds the soul." She gestures to the soup. "And empanadas, but they won't be here until tomorrow."
Anik groans. "They're not stray cats."
Miriam motions to Em. "Could have fooled me! Look at those cheekbones!"
Kieran bursts in at the end of this tirade. "Mami!" He runs over to her and swoops her up in a hug. "Consider me a stray cat, 'cause I'm keen to gain a stone or two if it means eatin’ your food."
Anik just scoffs and rolls his eyes, but I can tell he's not angry at the slight to his own food. He'll always tolerate his mother's meddling and caretaking. He'll never admit it, but he's secretly proud she's claimed his team as family, just like he has.
She bustles into the kitchen and takes over with the quiet authority of a woman who had to raise an alpha panther shifter. She fusses, unpacking a staggering amount of homemade food into the communal fridge. Absolutely no idea how she fit all of that into that tote bag.
Before I can start searching for an extension charm, she’s closing the fridge and balling up the tote. Raising her hand to the new appliance, she pats it and nods approvingly.
"This is a very good fridge." She sighs. "They don't make them like this anymore."
Then she turns and smiles at Dre. "Thank you, mich?. The room is perfect."
He smiles at her, but the sting from the fridge incident visibly weighs on him as he says, "Anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask."
She reaches up and pats his cheek affectionately before turning to everyone else. "The Hub was packed, and the transatlantic arch always makes my ears pop."
Ears popping. I sigh wistfully. It must be nice to have ears. Or a body capable of registering air pressure. I wouldn't know.
She waves off the guys' insistence that she use one of their snappers next time.
"No, no," she insists. "I don't want to use up the resources like that.
Plus, I like meeting all the new people when I travel.
" She puts her hand over her heart and stares off.
"The people I met in Paris were just fascinating!
I have never seen a more diverse supernatural district.
" Then she waves again. "Anyway, Mabel—you know Mabel—she talked my ear off all through dinner. "
She walks around, giving them each a kiss on the forehead, even a slightly flustered, pleased Emerson. "Now, I'm for bed, my loves. Don't burn the place down without me!"
She retreats to the guest room, leaving what I imagine is a trail of warmth and maternal comfort in her wake.
The guys stand there for a moment in silence, recovering from Hurricane Miriam.
It's a comfortable silence, though. The conflict over the fridge is forgotten; it's now stocked with food that will feed their bodies and souls, plus it's family night.
Of course, it's Forrest who has to break the peaceful silence. "Daily debrief, then onto family night." He motions for the guys to move around the island, and they do.
Emerson grabs a roll of paper off the couch and settles in with the rest of them. "Some chatter came through a bit ago on my new demonic radio." He gets a few side-eyes for that, but they're all used to his wacky inventions. "There's word of human cargo moving through Hell's Bend this weekend."
Kieran nods. "Aye, I've been picking up whispers of that at my club, even."
Anik leans forward. "Can we confirm this is a demon-run organization?"
“Not definitively." Forrest’s jaw clenches. "We need to be there."
A huge grin takes over my face. "Oh, I seriously can't wait to watch you guys kill some douchebags.
" Then what Em said registers fully. "Wait, you guys are taking me to a club?
" I fist-pump the air. "Hell yeah! We never do that enough.
" I point at Ro-ro. "You need to take everyone out for fun more often.
All work and no play makes for a sour gargoyle. "
"Do you have a time for the cargo?" Forrest asks, having to force out the last word.