Chapter 11
RUNE
Ablack mass of frantically flapping wings dive-bombs Josie on the steps of the apothecary, tangling in her waves of ebony and hot pink.
I squint, rushing forward to help. It’s a bird.
A damn big one at that.
Its beak lifts to the air as black wings blend into the darkness of Josephine’s hair. Its talons are stuck and both of them are screeching in panic.
I grab the thing and yank it free.
“Ouch!”
The bird squawks when I throw it into the air, sending it into the night so I can check on my witch. “Are you all right?”
Josie fingers through her ebony waves, shaking out her hair. “I’m fine. Just startled. What was wrong with that bird?”
My gaze shifts to the bird in question—a crow—that, despite my aggressive launching of it, hasn’t flown away. Instead, it is sitting perched on the iron railing of the stairs, its beady eyes staring at me with too much intelligence for my liking.
“That thing is creepy as hell.”
“It’s right behind me, isn’t it?” Josephine’s eyes shift, searching for the bird behind her.
“Not for long.” I take a tentative step forward, flinging my hands towards the bird to shoo it away.
“Now, don’t go doing anything stupid.”
I pause. That didn’t sound like Josie’s voice.
“Rune, that’s not a regular bird.”
That’s my witch’s voice—unmistakable… and urgent.
As I turn back around, Josie’s wild black mane is fanning out around her with the wind created by the force of magic she calls to her aid. Her gaze is fixed on the crow, and I step out of the way.
“Tenere.” Josie casts.
The spell traps the bird in a floating sphere of dim light. The bird’s hefty wings beat angrily against the transparent walls of its prison.
“Let me out of here, you skill-less child.”
Skill-less?The bird has no idea what it’s talking about. Josie’s skills as a witch have grown tenfold in the short time I’ve known her.
She is—hold on… The bird is talking?
“Uh, Jo?” I squint at the bird’s beak, but it doesn’t move. “Did you just warn me not to do anything stupid?”
“It’s sound advice for you, but no.”
I scrub my fingers through my beard and wrap my head around that. “Okay, then the bird must’ve said it.”
She looks at me like I’ve gone crazy. “Did you say the bird was talking to you?”
“You didn’t hear it? Could it be some kind of animal communication spell?”
“It spoke directly to you?”
“Uh, yeah. I think so.”
“Has that ever happened before?”
“Nope. First time.”
“Yeah, yeah, the bird talks. How long are you going to freak out before we can move on?” My head pivots on a swivel as I face the mouthy marvel.
“My bad, do you have a crucial crow business meeting to attend that we’re keeping you from?”
“Rune, that’s a raven,” Josie corrects at the same time the bird screeches into my brain.
“I’m a raven, you empty-brained leech.” She clacks her beak at me.
I raise my hands in surrender. “Excuse me for not knowing my avian species. I stand corrected.”
Josie giggles beside me, although I don’t find any of this funny. “Ask it why it dive-bombed me. And why I’m sensing magic from it.”
“She wants to know—” I start, but the bird speaks over me.
“First: to get your attention, duh. Second: because I’m a familiar. Again—duh.”
“It says?—”
“And stop calling me an it,” the raven demands, clacking her beak at me again.
“Wow, you’re all kinds of temperamental.”
“Ask it what?—”
I hold up a finger. “She doesn’t approve of the ‘it’ calling. She is a she.”
Josie pauses, considering. “And does she have a name? What would she prefer to be called?”
“My name is Phi.”
I relay the information.
“Maybe we should take our conversation into the shop,” I offer, casting a look around.
There aren’t many people on the street—just a couple in their forties taking an evening stroll, their tiny wiener dog trotting along behind them.
Josie quirks a brow. “Why? Isn’t having in-depth conversations with birds normal in America? It’s a well-loved pastime in England.”
I roll my eyes and open the door for her. “All right, smartass, get the talking raven inside before some human catches you using magic.”
Thankfully, the houses surrounding the shop are almost completely occupied by witch families.
“Back so soon?” Elara says when we step through the door. “Did you forget something? You two have a masquerade ball to get ready for.”
“We have a bit of a situation.” Once we’re inside, I gesture for the bird to follow.
Phi bounces across the floor behind me, bobbing like a helium balloon.
“Looks like my masquerade montage moment must wait,” Josie says. “A raven familiar descended upon us out on the stoop.”
I close the door, set the lock, and flip the sign in the window to ‘closed’.
“Tell her I want to make a pact with her,” Phi caws at me expectantly.
“She wants to be your familiar and make it official,” I say.
Josie frowns. “Sorry, I’m not in the market for a familiar. Not now. Not ever. You’d be better to try another witch. And you’re in luck. There’s a big party tonight. There will be plenty of witches to choose from.”
“You didn’t summon her?” Elara asks, blonde brows drawing together.
“Why don’t you want her?” I ask. “Don’t familiars help witches and boost their magic? Elara’s little furry rodent-snake is pretty cute. Almost.”
“Tavor is adorable,” Elara says.
Josie sends her a kind smile. “He is. I’m just not interested in making a pact with a familiar.”
I frown. “Why do I get the sense this goes deeper than not wanting to accessorize with a talking tuft of feathers? She’s just a raven. Aren’t witches supposed to like ravens?”
Josie pegs me with a look. “Familiars aren’t ordinary animals—they are demons in disguise. When a witch makes a pact with a cat, or a ferret, or raven, she swaps a fragment of their souls and binds them together.”
Her tone makes the prospect of that sound like it ranks right up there with hot pokers and the removal of fingernails.
Has she been burned by a pact in the past?
“You’re already bound to three demons—what’s one more?”
Josie fixes me with a look before turning back to Phi. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really don’t have time for this right now.”
“I am the one who doesn’t have time,” Phi squawks, flapping her wings. “If I don’t find a witch to take me on soon, I’ll fade from this realm.”
“Personally,” I interject after translating, “I’d love to figure out why I can hear you.”
“It’s never happened before?” Josie asks.
I shake my head. “No. I’ve never had a familiar say a word to me.”
“Tavor has,” Elara says, one hand over her mouth, holding back laughter.
“What’s so funny? What has he been saying?”
“That you’re a falmin’ galah,” the rodent says.
I blink at it in shock. “Holy shit.”
I didn’t expect him to have an accent. Especially not an Australian accent. Hell—I didn’t expect the ferret to talk to me at all.
What is happening?
Josie’s wide-eyed gaze meets mine. “You heard Tavor?”
“I did! What in Odin’s name is going on?”
Josie is practically bouncing with excitement. “Rune, I think you got your ability from the two of us sealing our bond.”
I look between the bird and the ferret and yeah, that might be it. “I was hoping for something more like shooting fire from my fingertips or spewing acid, but I can get down with animal communication.”
“Acid? Really?”
I shrug. “You can’t tell me it wouldn’t be cool to spit on someone and watch their face melt off.”
“Sure. If by cool you mean traumatizing.”
“What if it was Egan’s face?”
“That just sounds gross,” Elara chimes in.
And it is, but I can tell Josie is imagining how satisfying it would be to watch the werewolf alpha suffer the way he’s made her suffer.
Maybe now that I can talk to animals, I’ll ask a pack of wild wolves to tear Egan to shreds. It would be equally satisfying watching his own kind enact justice.
“So, what are we going to do about Phi being your new familiar?” Elara asks, coming around the counter to get a closer look at the raven.
“She is not my familiar. And we’re not going to do anything.”
Elara is staring at Phi. “Hold on. Wait a second…Are you the raven statue that’s been missing from outside the shop?”
“That’s me,” Phi confirms.
“Then you’re Adelaide’s familiar.”
“She’s what?” Josie’s heartbeat goes from freaked out to high alert. “How is she still here?”
“I’m barely here. Not since that old wench got herself skewered by your mates.”
“Aren’t familiars supposed to die when their witch dies?” I ask.
Josephine tilts her head from side to side as if considering. “A witch’s familiar is tethered to this plane because of the soul-swap business I mentioned earlier. Once the witch’s soul is no longer on this plane it’s back to hell with the demon.”
Elara is still staring at Phi like she’s seeing a ghost—it’s what Fintan and Sebastian’s faces looked like when Josie raised the dead to sicc on Egan and Adelaide. Mine too, probably.
“Adelaide told me you were killed during the war.” Elara waves her hands over the bird in the bubble, and the rush of magic raises the hair on my arms.
“No. I was frozen in stone for the last two and a half fucking decades!” I say on Phi’s behalf.
Josephine narrows her gaze on me. “Why do I feel like that wasn’t an exact translation?”
“I’m wounded.” I feign offense. “While I hoped my bonding power-boost would be something cool, I assure you I take my role as bird translator very seriously.”
Elara lowers her hand, cutting off her magical efforts. “The residual witch signature is faint, but she does feel like Adelaide.”
“I mean really, if you doubt me, you might be able to find an app that can translate for you.”
Josie rests a hand on my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You did great. You’re a natural.”
And just like that, my stance on my new ability changes. If Josie’s happy with it, that’s good enough for me.
It’s not like I needed a power boost, anyway.
I’m already more powerful than my opponents. If I widened that gap, it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Not to mention it would take all the fun out of it.
“So, you see why I need a witch,” the bird says.
When I translate Phi’s comment, Josie shakes her head. “I’m not looking for a familiar right now. And if I was, it most definitely wouldn’t be the old familiar of the witch who killed my parents.”
The bird ruffles its feathers before smoothing down and trying again. “We’re on the same team here, kid. I’m grateful you fried the bitch—or however you ganked her. It felt like I was being broiled from the inside out by the sun.”
“Kid? Really?” Josie frowns at me offended.
I shrug. “Hey, you can direct any and all complaints to the bird. I’m just the messenger.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m almost thirty.”
“And I’m almost forty thousand,” Phi says, though I don’t bother translating. “Well, thirty-nine thousand and sixteen, but I’m rounding up. Once you hit that ten thousandth year mark, you really only start counting by the thousands.”
“Noted.” I haven’t hit that milestone yet, but I’m sure I’ll still be celebrating each year for the rest of my existence.
Who doesn’t love a good excuse for a party?
“What did she say?” Elara asks, looking to Tavor instead of me to translate, though I answer regardless.
“She’s, like, real fucking old.”
Phi beats her wings against the bubble. “Don’t get lazy on me now, messenger boy.”
“Hey, you’re lucky I’m passing along your messages at all, bird.”
“You don’t have to play translator anymore. I’ve given her my answer, and now we’re going home.”
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’m sure. This, at least, is one problem that will fix itself. With what little magic she has left, I doubt she’ll last longer than another day or two.” There’s a twinge of pity in Josephine’s voice as she turns her back on Phi, letting the spell—and the bird—drop.
The tired raven tries to flap her wings, but barely manages to slow her descent before landing gracelessly on the floor with a thud that makes me wince.
Tavor winds his way down Elara’s leg and goes to Phi with an urgency that tells of how dire the raven’s condition truly is. “Quick, we need nettle, black elderwood, ginkgo root…” he continues to list off ingredients, but Josie is heading to the door and I’m no longer paying attention.
I hope she’s making the right call. Somehow, my gut says we aren’t finished with Adelaide’s old familiar. Not yet. Demons are resilient bastards.