Raven

Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

I think I slept well. Or maybe I just passed out from the sheer exhaustion of it all. My mind was a whirlwind, and that was putting it lightly. It was filled with everything from Tia to my mother to what the hell I was going to do about the humans, and I couldn’t piece any of it together in a way that made sense. I thought I was going to lie there forever, unable to sleep, all the shit going over and over in my head. But then I closed my eyes, and boom, I was gone. Turns out, exhaustion trumps a crazy fucking day.

A beep vibrated under my head. It took me a moment to realise that it was the phone Malcolm had given me. Nothing flashy. Honestly, I didn’t know many people with mobiles. Only business execs, pompous humans, and members of the council had them. Otherwise? Nope. Malcolm had given this to me so we could set up meetings. Or rather, he could.

I lit up the screen. "6pm. Hogarth's Quarry," it said, and that was it. But it was all I needed. Time and place. It didn’t need to say "today" because it was always the next one. It meant six tonight.

I flopped back on my bed and sent Malcolm the word "okay." I didn’t want him to assume I’d just be there—which of course I would be. He was the alpha. Even on my deathbed, I’d get myself there. But it crossed my mind ages ago that if I didn’t reply, he might assume I wasn’t coming or didn’t get his message. How would he know if I didn’t tell him? He’d never told me not to say "okay," so I did it. My head was a complicated mess sometimes.

Yawning, I rolled out of bed, my mind feeling like it needed another week of sleep. I made it to the end of my bed, where I sat with my head in my hands until I registered that I was awake enough to get on with things, like going to class and then my job. They all seemed pointless now.

I dragged myself through the motions, my body moving on autopilot while my mind felt like it was sinking into quicksand. The weight of everything pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the thought of facing the day seemed insurmountable. Why bother? The question echoed in my mind, persistent and nagging. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. The spark that once drove me was extinguished, leaving a hollow void in its place. But I made myself move.

My mother was sleeping on the sofa. I didn’t want to wake her. I didn’t want another talk. Not that it was bad. My head just wasn't up for it. She had at least put the door key back on the hook so I could get out. Maybe our talk last night had done some good. Our bags were still on the table, though, filled with our things. She hadn’t added more. Maybe that was a sign of hope. But then I thought about the move. Was I really going to stay here and let her leave? In my head, I wanted to. If my mother wanted to go, then she could. I didn’t have to go with her. I was an adult, free to make my own choices, just as she was. But she was my mother, and this wasn’t some weird mummy’s boy kind of thing. She was all I’d ever had in the world. It had been me and her for a long time, and the idea of her going somewhere without me felt strange and wrong. I knew I had Malcolm, but it wasn’t the same.

"Your bike isn't in the garage," my mother said from under the arm she had draped across her face. She moved it so she could look at me.

I stopped and turned. "No, I know."

She angled her head, squinting. Not that it was light—I’d moved around our flat in darkness. "You took it with you when you went to the cafe?"

I gripped my bag for college, my mind instantly going to the lie, but we needed honesty, right? So I nodded.

She nodded too but gave me silence instead of shouting. She took a deep breath and put her arm down. "Do you have work today?"

"Only a short shift. Max has me scheduled from two till six, but Malcolm wants me to meet him, so I have to get out early." I knew Max wouldn’t mind. She knew I did stuff for Malcolm, and she wouldn’t ask.

"What time are you meeting him?"

"Six."

She nodded again and closed her eyes. I thought maybe she’d gone back to sleep, but then she opened them. "You're in demand. When you're done with Malcolm, come home and we'll go and get your bike. I don’t start work until eleven."

You know, I hated when she said "work." My mind always went to what she did, even though she didn’t say it out loud. There was no, "I’m heading in at eleven to sell my body to strangers and clients." It was an unsaid thing. When I came in at night and she wasn’t here, I didn’t have to think about what my mother did or with whom, but when she said "work," it jarred in my head. I don’t even know why it bothered me so much recently. I mean, she’d done this my entire life. Back when I was little, she’d done it in our home and had me hide in the closet.

Of course, she’d always made it an adventure. I was "going camping" in the closet in the hallway. She’d decked it out for me. I had books and a torch, some cars, and things like that. She’d installed a little light in there with me. If that light was lit, I wasn’t to come out.

So I knew, I always knew what she did, but lately... sometimes, when she slept on the sofa and the blankets fell away, I saw the bites on her thighs where the vamps had taken their fill. I saw the handprints and the marks. Compartmentalised, I think is what it’s called. She was my mother. She was not a service woman. But the two were blending together.

The idea of going to get my bike, though, surprised me. I was expecting more of a telling-off or a shouting match. "It's okay," I said. "It probably isn’t there anyway." The thought of my bike being stolen pissed me off, but I imagined the humans had taken it already. They’d either kept it for themselves or destroyed it just because it belonged to a shifter.

"Maybe we can check anyway. You never know."

There was something in her voice that said this wasn't about me or the bike. This was maybe her trying to make amends. She’d meant it yesterday when she’d said about us always fighting. What I felt was that this was something she needed to prove she was trying. So I agreed. "Sure. We can have a look." I wasn’t hopeful, and I’m sure she wasn’t either, but we’d do this, if not for anything else, then for her. "I'll see you tonight."

She wished me a good day, smiled, and closed her eyes. I let myself out and headed to college. I had two classes on Tuesdays—easy days, which was probably why Malcolm had messaged me. It was easy on both fronts of my life, and I used to try to have them as study days, but life always got in the way.

I walked to college, keeping an eye out for Tia, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe she'd come this way, even though we lived on opposite sides of the campus. I tried not to think too hard about it, but I did walk along South Street and all the way around, which was totally out of my way, just because she took that route. I didn’t see her there, either.

When I got to college, I headed for the refectory at the back. Actually, it was just a room with a kitchen and a serving hatch. The humans attempted to give us some kind of food service with our education. Most of us went there to start the day. Tia wasn't there, either.

The staff gave out free food. When I say free food, I mean a vat of cold and gloppy porridge slopped into plastic bowls and served with the weakest orange juice. Being a shifter, I didn’t eat that stuff unless I was so hungry that I just needed something. But many others did. It was a meal for them, and it was free. No judgement.

I went to my classes, and while they weren’t usually hard for me, I had trouble concentrating. My head was just all over the fucking place, probably like the slop they served in the refectory. I couldn’t keep my focus, and every time I saw anyone walk past the door, I checked for Tia. I even stared out of the window, hoping to see her walk by. I didn’t know what for. What would I do if I saw her? Run out? No, but ... in my head, I just needed that sight, that connection with her. Fuck this ... I just ... I ground my teeth and let my panther pace. He wasn’t much help either. He howled inside, slashing, pining—a cat with no purpose. I didn’t know if it was me bringing him down, or him doing it to me.

After classes, I went to the library and 'tried' to study. I had a paper due the week after, and I had most of it done. Honestly, it really just needed proofreading and all the citations, and I’d be done, but even that wasn’t computing in my head. I gave up.

When I went to work, Clay was already setting up the bar. He had two lines that he was flushing out, and he was replacing the optics—vodka, always the first to go, then whiskey. Mostly humans drank this stuff. Some shifters did too, but shifter vodka was super strong.

"Is Max not in today?" I asked, tossing my bag behind the bar and starting to take the upturned chairs off the tables and set them down.

"She is. She had to take her car to the garage. She’ll be back in a bit. You need her for something?"

"I just need to head off a little early today. Around half five. I can come in half an hour earlier tomorrow."

Clay poured himself a vodka, downed it neat, and licked his lips. "Max won’t mind. It’s not like we’re going to be rushed off our feet. You got a big date?"

"Nah. Just an errand to run for a friend."

He gave me his signature, one raised eyebrow. "If you say so." Then we opened the bar.

The shift wasn’t so busy. We had a steady flow of patrons, always something to do but not overwhelming. Between serving drinks, I found myself lost in my thoughts again, my mind drifting back to Tia and the mess of my life. How had it gone this way in the space of weeks? I didn’t ask anyone that. If I asked any of the adults in my life, they’d say, Tia, but they didn’t get it, even when they said they did.

Max came back in later and headed to her flat at the back of the bar because it was quiet. She usually did paperwork and accounts on Tuesdays. I’d probably do the same if I owned a bar.

Half-past five rolled around, and I headed out as another server, Jax, came in for the evening shift. There were only a few tables taken, most with their food already. Clay was working on a couple of orders, but Jax could handle them.

I headed out to meet Malcolm. The place where we were meeting was a shithole—a clearing between a fishing dock and the tip. A place where humans came to fly-tip. There were at least three mattresses, one torn and shredded, another with stains I didn’t want to imagine. Malcolm wasn’t there yet, but I was early.

It wasn’t far from Spyglass, so I was able to walk. The area itself looked out over the river. There were a few broken boats on the marsh part, left to rot, put on display. When the weather was better and the ground hardened, it was possible to get out to them and explore. As a kid, I’d done that myself, pretending to be a pirate, having adventures. The tide had been in, making the ground wet and mushy. I sat myself on the broken bench and waited.

Malcolm arrived spot on six, like I knew he would. He nodded to me, and I glanced around to check we were alone. He didn’t, of course. He handed me an envelope before saying anything. “You’re doing a reverse run tomorrow night.”

I opened the envelope. “Someone’s coming from Exile?” That didn’t happen often, but it did happen.

“Yes.”

Inside the envelope were keys to a property and the address. That place had once been used as tennis courts and a club. It had been left empty for ages. I guess Malcolm had acquired it and turned it into living quarters. “Red Marsh? I thought that place was abandoned.”

“It was. We managed to renovate some of it,” he said, pausing on “renovate” because we both knew it wouldn’t be luxury.

“Who am I picking up?”

“A mother and her son. Lachlan—another of Malcolm's assistants/helpers/whatever we were—will drive. You’re not picking up from the usual docks. These docks are down at Morcombe. Lachlan will stick to the back roads because you might cross curfew. You might also need to shift, so be prepared for that. When you have them, Lachlan will drop you three off at Holly Road and keep a lookout for you. You will walk the woman and her son to her new place and let her in.”

I opened the envelope properly for everything else. Inside was a key to her property, a sheet with a password for verification, and a small envelope with my payment. “Do you need me to do anything else?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just get her to Red Marsh and settled in. Give them the usual.”

By “usual,” he meant the phone number to contact if they needed anything. My mother and I had been given the same, but we’d never needed it. I always assumed it’d go through to Malcolm or someone else in the society. “Tell her I’ll come and see her,” he added.

“I will.” I waited for Malcolm to leave, but he didn’t. That in itself made me a little nervous. “Is everything okay?”

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Have you spoken to Tia?”

“No.” Her name made my insides clench. “Why?”

He watched me for a long moment, and I didn’t know what I felt coming off him. Mostly, it was always confusion with him. Wouldn’t be good if the alpha was so easy to read, right? “Is she okay?”

“She says she’s Society?”

“Yes. I mean, she has to be, right? To go to classes?”

His lip twitched, and I couldn’t read him, and not that I wanted to, but ... I moved closer. He didn't move back. “Please. Do you know something?”

“I looked for her record in the archives. Tia is an unusual name, and panthers aren’t so big in numbers. I found two panthers by the name of Tia. One was deceased about five years ago, and the other dropped off the radar about eighteen months back. She has a brother, several actually. One girl in a family of nine children.”

“She’s here to study because where she lives doesn’t offer the level she needs.”

“Well, if it is the same Tia, be careful, Raven. From what I could find on her, her family is protective of their single tabby. They don’t seem like the kind family that would let their only female far off the lead.”

"You think she might be here hiding?"

HIs nostrils flared as he inhaled. "Speculation is never advisable, but caution doesn't do anyone any harm."