Raven Chapter 31 Matchmakers and A Madman 387
Raven
My fingers search the crinkled bag, finding only dust and salt.
A single, gut wrenching realization cuts through the pleasant, muffled haze. It’s over. The edible barrier between me and the world is gone.
Note to self: tell Selena the snacks for these kinds of life altering missions need to be doubled, if not tripled, in quantity.
Reality rushes in to fill the void left by the snacks. It’s an aggressive, bureaucratic takeover—like the universe saw an empty desk and sent in a middle manager named Frank to deliver a very negative performance review.
The hum of the SUV’s engine becomes a roar. The low conversation in the front seat sharpens into distinct words—Forrest’s clipped tones, Anik’s low rumble. The clean, papery scent of the woman beside me solidifies into Izzy.
I blink, my cheek peeling away from the cool window. The landscape outside is a blur of green and grey. We’re moving.
My mind feels… scrubbed raw and strangely quiet.
The panic isn’t gone, but it’s been neatly boxed and shelved for later.
Overall, I’m ticking a box in the new experiences column.
No idea what it was, but the minute things got to be too much, it was like a switch flipped. Everything got fuzzy. Empty.
Well I’ll be a dragon’s uncle. Looks like that whole "not mastering dissociation" thing I mentioned earlier was a lie. Turns out I just hadn't found the right trigger.
It's like my consciousness had enough of the plot and went to make popcorn. Rude, but also? Respect.
I let the empty bag fall to the floorboards with a final, pathetic crinkle. Well. The popcorn’s gone. Might as well re-enter the movie.
Izzy is speaking softly to Forrest in the front seat. I wait for a pause that doesn’t come, then just cut in.
“So, Izzy,” I say, my voice raspy from disuse. She jumps a little. “Tell me about yourself. How does one become the commander of a secret society of valkyrie goddesses? Is there an application, or is it more of a destiny thing?”
“Um…” She glances between me and the front seat, clearly torn.
Forrest waves a dismissive hand.
Good boy, Ro-Ro . I smile slightly. A choked cough-laugh comes from behind me and I assume it’s Dre since he’s the only one in this car with a direct line into my brain.
I raise my eyebrows at Izzy, a clear well?
“No application was needed. My great-great-grandmother founded it. Her and her mate.”
“So she did all right for herself after the whole… being my prison nanny thing?” I ask, and realize I really want the answer to be yes.
“She did. During the chaos of your disappearance, she slipped away. They paid little attention to the humans. She got as far as she could, taking many with her, and hiding the book. Along the way, she met Hikaru. They fell in love, and that love led to me.”
"She was human," I state. "But you're not?"
"I am not. Hikaru was a nature kitsune. As am I."
"Was? I thought you all lived forever."
A faint, sad smile touches Izzy's lips. "A common misconception.
True immortality—the inability to die—is the rarest of gifts.
All supes are long lived but most of what we call 'immortal' species are simply.
.. hard to kill. Vampires can be destroyed.
Demons who are slain eventually reform, but each death costs them.
They return weaker, diminished, until one day they don't return at all.
The Fae are ageless, but enough violence, enough time, and even they can be ended. "
She meets my gaze, her blue eyes serious. "True immortality—the kind where death simply does not take—is thought to belong only to the gods. And to those they directly bless. The god-touched."
“Okay, so you’re not immortal. Got it.” I refuse to process anything else she said right now. I shove it to the back of my mind to marinate, hoping it’ll tenderize into something less horrifying by the time I’m ready to deal with it. A chill creeps down my spine as I do.
“So Hikaru…” I say, distracting myself.
“Lived a very, very long life,” she says softly. “But his mate was only ever human. He loved her exactly as she was. He chose not to pursue the dark or desperate means some use to cling to life. He said a full life with her was worth more than an endless one without.”
Well, damn. That single decision makes me trust this whole legacy a lot more. A love story that ends in natural mortality beats an immortal power grab any day.
I get that some past version of me knew her ancestor. But according to Izzy, I’m not her anymore. I gave that version of myself up to escape. And judging by the horror-movie flashes I did keep, I’m not exactly booking a nostalgia trip.
Nope, my brain has other plans. Instead of a nostalgia trip, we’re booking a one-way rocket straight to Planet Panic.
And that earlier thought I shoved aside? It didn't tenderize. It’s boiled over and now my mental kitchen is on fire while I'm trying to steer a rocket.
My brain stutters in the chaos, tripping over the sheer, terrifying scale of temporary . Forrest’s stern profile in the driver’s seat looks tired, more tired than I’ve ever seen him. Kieran’s smile has the hints of laugh lines I’ve never seen before.
My eyes dart to the rearview mirror, searching for Dre—and my breath catches. Is that… a thread of silver in his temple? It wasn't there before. It is now. I’m sure of it. It’s starting.
Wait. She said god-touched.
Fuck it. I’m just never letting go. Ever. I will physically graft myself to them. We will be a six-headed, moderately functional, immortal entity. We’ll get a bulk discount on sweaters.
It’s the stupidest, most desperate logic I’ve ever conjured. And yet, my mind, in its current state, latches onto it with the tenacity of a drowning woman clutching a pool noodle.
A slender hand closes over mine. I look up. Izzy meets my gaze, her expression one of tentative caution—someone carefully disarming a ticking time bomb. She leans in, her voice a whisper meant only for me.
“What I tell you now is not shared lightly. It is… foundational to what you are.” She pauses, ensuring I’m listening.
“When a god-touched one truly bonds with their chosen—when you take a mate in heart, soul, and magic—they are anchored to your eternity. They will not age beyond the peak of their life beside you.”
The mental sprinklers kick on. The rocket’s sputtering engine cuts out mid-flight. A wave of pure, undiluted relief washes through the smoking wreckage of my panic as I float there for a minute, savoring it.
“Why,” I say, my voice a little too high, “did you not lead with that? That is critical, front-of-the-brochure, bold-font information! You don’t bury the lede on immortality!”
She blinks. "I assumed you knew more than you do. Obviously, I was mistaken.”
I stare at her. "Did you just… completely ignore my disclaimer? Raccoon brain? Dumpster fire? Pop culture vibes and zero adult knowledge? I literally said to use small words. I feel like that was a very clear request."
She just keeps staring at me, “I agree that I should have taken you more literally. My team and I will require a full debrief once we arrive.”
“Your team ?” The way she says it carries weight—like there’s an entire organization tucked into that word.
A faint blush touches her cheeks. “Yes. They assist me in running the Order and in training our warriors.”
A grin spreads across my face. Ah. There it is. “Do they… assist you in other ways, too? Like, sexually?”
“That is neither here nor there,” she says, turning sharply to look out the window.
The move is so telling it’s almost a confession. Then I remember—Selena’s weird, careful vibe when she told me. A brilliant, chaotic idea pops into my head. By the time it’s fully formed, I’m already committed.
“There’s someone you need to meet,” I announce, steepling my fingers like a cartoon villain.
She just shoots me a bewildered look before turning back to Forrest, seamlessly resuming the conversation I’d derailed.
As they talk, I scheme. I scheme the rest of the way back to Miriam’s house—a trip that, annoyingly, only takes minutes.
Once we’re parked, I have to physically fight the impulse to drag Izzy straight to Selena.
My sister deserves the best, and the best requires vetting.
Or, at the very least, a quick once-over.
It doesn’t take long. Three women separate from the larger group and stride toward us, all clad in the same sleek, flexible armor as Izzy. They’re gorgeous in a “will slit your throat while you’re busy drooling” kind of way.
Life goals.
The trio offers me a respectful, synchronized nod before focusing on Izzy. She gestures to the woman in the middle who has brown hair, green eyes, and a subtle greenish hue to her skin. Actual, tiny flowers bloom from the bun at the nape of her neck.
“This is Enra,” Izzy says. “A forest nymph. She found us after the Council destroyed her home.”
She then motions to the woman on the right. Flame-red hair, and chocolate brown eyes that don’t just reflect firelight—they flicker with it.
“This is Flare. A fire elemental.”
The last woman to be introduced draws herself up, bracing. Close-cropped black hair, shaved on one side. Her eyes are pure black voids, matching the dark markings that seem to slither across her skin. Defensiveness radiates from her in waves, but she manages the same respectful nod.
“And this is Numbra. A shadow mage.” Izzy’s tone is carefully neutral, also bracing for something.
Luckily for them, I am as clueless as a newborn fawn. All I care about is the potent, unified energy crackling between them—an energy that makes my need to drag them to Selena triple in urgency.
“Your eyes are so intense,” I tell Numbra, stepping closer. “I bet you can make men shit themselves with a well-placed glare. Can you teach me?” I give her my widest, most pleading eyes. “Please, please, please?”