Conspiracy of Ravens (Crawford Investigations Book 1) Read online

  Great. What he meant was he planned to interrogate her, PI-style.

  “Fine,” she said. “Maybe you can tell me why there was a goat in the backyard.”

  Dad straightened in his chair, lips twisting into a snarl. “Mrs. Humphreys.”

  “That crazy old bat has a goat?” Raven asked. “I didn’t think she was capable of caring for anything other than herself.” Their crazy, bigoted neighbour, not Tarzan.

  “It’s Dad’s spite goat,” Juni said.

  “His what?”

  “His spite goat,” her sister repeated as if she made perfect sense.

  Raven turned back to Dad. “Please explain.”

  “Mrs. Humphreys complained to council again about the ‘pests’ coming to and from the house,” he said.

  By pests, Mrs. Humphreys referred to her family running around in their fox forms.

  “She’s always done that. She’s a bigot and probably belongs to a Regulator chapter.” Raven cringed when she said the name of the anti-supernatural group that loathed anything and anyone with special abilities. “How was this different?”

  Dad threw his fork down on his plate. “I’m tired of it! I researched the city bylaws and there’s nothing in it saying we can’t keep small farm animals on the premises.”

  She choked on her coffee.

  Mike reached over and slapped her on the back. Hard.

  Raven cleared her throat. “So, you bought a goat and named him Spite?”

  “Don’t be silly. His name is Pepe,” Dad said.

  Of course, it was.

  “And we borrowed him from a friend in Mission.” Dad turned to her brother. “So, what are you learning right now in school, Mike?”

  Apparently, they were done discussing Dad’s spite goat. Really, there wasn’t much more to discuss. Dad topped the polls when it came to passive aggressive retaliation.

  Raven shook her head and turned to Mike. “Yeah, what are you learning? Besides how to be annoying?” Raven asked.

  Mike smirked. He’d already finished explaining tonight’s events up until they ran into Doctor Douche. Frankly, their parents didn’t need to hear that part of the story. Instead of describing the cowardice of Robert, and Cole’s subsequent threats, he told a story about how his classmates created a pickup line test bank to try out on their female cohorts. They planned to run a series of controlled experiments to give each pickup line a success rating.

  Cole leaned back with a small smile, gaze dancing between her family members as they talked. Did he have family meals like this one? Gatherings? Reunions? Or did he bond with his father, Erebus, in a war room while planning some dark fae invasion? Maybe the dark fae invasion.

  She knew so little of the man sitting across from her. What she did know was her skin heated every time his attention rested on her, and she swore something in his dark gaze softened in return.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “If you like people who do stupid shit all the time, become a parent.”

  ~Kelly Oxford

  Raven stepped into her apartment. The early morning light created a glowing, rectangular halo around the blackout curtains hanging in front of her living room window. Despite scrubbing the place from the dented baseboard to the cracked ceiling, she failed to remove the small, one-bedroom apartment’s musty smell. The walls sweated brown oil during the summer and anytime she showered, indicating years of chain smoking from the previous owners. Now, she associated the smell with her home. Her small, stinky home, devoid of asshats.

  Raven shucked off her shoes, using her toes on one foot to pry the shoe from the heel of her other foot. She rarely untied her shoes properly to take them off. Next, came the socks. She peeled the sweat-soaked fabric from her feet and held them at arm’s length.

  Ew.

  Her feet were something else that smelled no matter how diligently she cleaned them. She was meant to live a life in flip flops…for everyone’s sake. Another reason why she should travel to a tropical paradise.

  From her entranceway, she threw the sweat-soaked socks into the laundry hamper and tossed her keys toward the bowl that sat on the corner table by the front door.

  The keys hit the table’s surface and slid to the edge. They clattered to the floor.

  Ugh. Just perfect. Her keys acted as a reminder of how messed up the last twenty-four hours had been. A little how-do-you-like-that to top off the day. And technically, the day had just started.

  After plucking the keys from the worn linoleum, she repositioned the bowl to the center of the table where she liked it, instead of pushed against the wall.

  With heavy limbs, she plodded to her small “apartment-sized” couch and flopped into the cushions. Her dry eyes itched from leaving her contacts in for too long. She used her legs to move the ottoman back to its usual spot and propped her feet up. The worn ottoman, soft and supple, cushioned her aching feet. A long sigh escaped her lips and sleep tugged heavily on her eyelids. She should probably shower and clean the mystery goop out of her hair, but the idea of peeling off the rest of her clothes was exhausting all on its own.

  She reached out to grab the remote. It wasn’t there.

  She froze. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up. The heavy clunking of her fridge and the steady buzzing sound she’d long ago associated with her building prevented absolute silence.

  The remote sat on the other arm of the couch. She never sat there. Her skin prickled. Her scalp itched.

  The key bowl. The ottoman. The remote.

  Each as individual anomalies wouldn’t create any suspicion, but together…

  Someone had been in her place.

  Her breath lodged in her throat. The lingering taste of breakfast sausages in her mouth turned sour.

  Should she call Cole? He promised protection. But what if he’d been the one in her place. She shivered. Sure, he’d spent the evening and this morning with her and her family, but he had plenty of opportunity to do this—whatever this was—beforehand. For all she knew, he was leafing through her photo albums when she called to agree to his deal. Argh.

  If it wasn’t Cole though…who’d been here? Bane? Some lackey? How long had they hung out among her trinkets and dirty laundry pile? When did they leave?

  Raven froze.

  Someone could still be in her place.

  A ripple of unease slithered down her spine and churned her gut. Raven had somehow managed to land in a twisted cat and mouse game and she sure wasn’t the cat.

  Raven surged up from her spot on the couch and scanned the apartment. Was anything taken? Or had the mysterious culprit searched her dilapidated home and left? Nothing else seemed out of place, and her computer—her one possession worth more than fifty bucks at a thrift store—sat on the kitchen table right where she’d left it. So probably not theft. A scouting mission for information on Bear seemed more likely. Now she had to confirm whether the person or persons were still here.

  At least with a small apartment, there were few places to hide. She didn’t even have a closet in her bedroom. Her mattress sat directly on the laminate flooring because she sold her headboard and frame months ago to make rent, and she’d pushed the mattress right up against the wall to free up space. No monsters could lurk under her bed here. One look in her room confirmed it was empty. She grabbed a large kitchen knife and tiptoed to the bathroom. The door loomed before her—somehow larger and certainly more ominous than before. Her heart thudded in her ears. She reached out and wrapped her hand around the smooth, cold surface of the doorknob. Her muscles tensed. She glanced down at the shiny blade. Then the door. Then the blade again.

  What was she thinking? She had no idea how to fight, let alone wield a knife effectively in a brawl. She’d likely end up sticking the pointy end in her own thigh.

  Raven swallowed the groan threatening to escape her lungs and returned the knife to its block in the kitchen.

  She opened the one functioning window to her stuffy apartment. No screen. The morning air of lat
e summer rushed in. She resisted the urge to stand there and breathe. Instead, she retrieved her robe from the bedroom. Her feet slapped against the floor. Aside from the bedroom, the entire place had thin linoleum that curled up at the baseboards.

  Raven might have mediocre fighting skills—whatever she retained from years of growing up with tough-love brothers and a hooligan for a little sister—but she excelled in fleeing. Sure, she tried to avoid shifting, and flying from her own place, but she wouldn’t risk her life to avoid either of those things.

  Raven peeled off her clothes and wrapped her short robe around her. The fuzzy towel-like material had long ago lost its softness and rubbed her skin like a rough over-sized cat tongue. Some might question her choice to confront a B&E criminal practically naked, but the supernatural community rarely made sense. Clothes were cumbersome in a shift and could cause one or more of her birds to become entangled. She couldn’t afford to lose any more than she already had.

  Raven left the robe untied and padded back to the bathroom. With a deep breath, she wrenched open the door. The simple three-piece washroom greeted her—empty.

  Relief washed through her veins. Raven sank to the floor and laughed. What did she do now? Stay in a place she knew had been compromised? Go back to her parents’ place and put them at more risk? Call Cole and ask him to relieve her stress levels with some epic, dark fae lord sexual healing?

  Mmmmm. Option number three, please.

  Her phone buzzed in her room. Raven took several deep breaths before scrambling to her feet to find the device. It sat on her bed’s cloud-like comforter. A picture of Raven and Megan splashed across the screen. They’d snapped the picture a couple of years ago after sneaking into some random white-trash music event at the community hall. Their scrunched-up idiotic faces showed exactly how intoxicated they’d been.

  Raven smiled and hit the green circle. “Hey babe, what’s up?”

  “Oh, thank goodness, I thought you were dead.” Megan’s voice, normally on the lower, huskier side, came out high pitched and theatrical.

  Raven snorted, shaking off the tension from her apartment search. A few minutes ago, she’d certainly felt as though her life was at risk. “And a phone call would save me?”

  “Well, it’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’m pretty sure you still have chocolate bars and potato chips hoarded behind the flour bag in the pantry. I’ll take those, instead.”

  “Back off my stash, woman.”

  “Do you still hide from your kids in there?” Raven held the phone between her shoulder and cheek and walked back to the front door to double check the locks. She shifted the corner table to sit in front of the door.

  “Are you working out?”

  “No, why?”

  “You’re grunting.”

  “Am not.” She clamped her mouth shut and shimmied the table a little more. Grunting. Psshhht. She was a perfect specimen of the female form. And now, if someone picked her locks again, the door would knock over the table and alert her. “Stop deflecting and answer the question.”

  “No, just the one. Theo isn’t old enough to follow me and beg for treats yet.”

  Raven plodded to the bathroom and washed her hands while she clamped the phone between her ear and shoulder again. Next, she removed her contacts, which were dry and stuck to her eyeballs. Raven grimaced and pried them out.

  Ahhhhh. Much better.

  She squeezed some eye drops in. The cool liquid coated her eyes and stung before easing the scratchy, tired feeling away. She’d put in a new set of contacts tomorrow morning, but for the rest of today, at least, she’d have some relief.

  Raven smiled at the image of Megan hiding from her kids in her pantry while stuffing her face with junk food. “It’s only a matter of time before Theo figures it out, too.”

  “I’m aware,” Megan said, dryly.

  “My mom said she ran into you.” Raven gathered her arsenal of supplies for a thorough scrub and placed them on the edge of the tub.

  “Yeah. First time I’ve escaped the house alone since Theo’s birth.”

  A pit dropped in her stomach. “Oh, Megan, I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? It was awesome.”

  “No, I’m a bad friend. I haven’t been over in a while or watched the kids for you.”

  Megan sighed dramatically. “There’s only one thing you can do to make it up to me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Come over for coffee.”

  “Done.” She didn’t want to stay here, anyway. “I just need to scrub off some grime first.”

  Megan’s throaty laugh vibrated her phone. “I can’t wait for that story.”

  Two soul-deep, brown eyes gazed at Raven with doe-like adoration. The sweet smell of baby powder surrounded him like an invisible shield. Panic spread through her core as she clutched the squishy infant in her hands. If his head kept bobbling, would it fall off?

  “Should I support his neck more?” she bellowed in the direction of the kitchen. A visit with one of her best friends was long overdue. They only lived thirty minutes apart, yet, their lives seemed to send them in different directions. Despite the long gaps between hanging out, though, they always picked up where they’d left off as if no time had passed.

  Megan chuckled from the other room. “Not anymore. He’s six months.”

  “Are you sure?” Raven eyed the cooing baby. A small stream of drool ran down his chin. For once, Raven wasn’t in her serving uniform or drenched in sweat. Instead, she was clean—at least relatively—and comfortable, wearing her favourite maxi dress. She generally preferred active wear. Pretty things like dresses and purses quickly became liabilities in her life or lost during a shift. Of course, Theodore made sure to spit up and drool on her within the first five minutes of her visit. Instead of smelling like her coconut body wash, she now reeked of spoiled milk.

  “He’s a baby, not antique china. You’re fine.”

  Megan’s son, aka trouble wrapped in cuteness, whipped his head in the direction of his mom’s voice. When she walked into the room with two mugs filled with steamy, heaven-scented coffee, he flapped his arms and lurched forward.

  “Whoa!”

  One minute, he contently sat on Raven’s lap like an edible doughboy, and the next, he attempted to launch from her lap like some baby hatchling off for his first flight.

  “Not happening, buddy.” Raven knew all about flying, and how to fail at it. “So how are things going?”

  “Oh, well, the usual. The highlight of my week was going to the grocery store by myself. That was a vacation.” Megan placed the mugs down and sighed. She reached out with both hands. Theo gurgled and cooed, throwing all his weight toward his mom.

  “Here.” Raven gladly handed the little cherub over. She didn’t hate babies. Quite the opposite. The memories of holding her younger siblings and helping Mom with them when they were little ignited fuzzy warmth inside her. But she’d been a kid and that was a long time ago. Now that she was older and more knowledgeable about how messed up the real world was, other people’s babies made her nervous. These babies came into the world, good and new. She didn’t worry about dropping them so much as tainting them with whatever unfortunate curse plagued her own life. That other parents, such as her friend, trusted her to hold their pride and joy and keep them safe, always surprised her. She could barely take care of herself.

  Megan rolled her eyes and took the squealing infant from Raven. She sat down in the armchair beside Raven and bounced her son on her knee. Raven hadn’t seen her friend in anything other than a simple shirt paired with either yoga or sweatpants in the last year. She wasn’t judging Megan, she envied her.

  Exhaustion clung to Raven’s limbs from running around all night and braving her mother’s wrath this morning. She sank into the couch and sighed. Her phone vibrated in her mini purse. She reached over, fished it out, and accepted the call from Mike. “What’s up?”

  “Just checking in. I ran background checks
on Cole and Luke Bane.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Raven frowned.

  Megan glanced over and her eyebrows furrowed.

  “Well, nothing traceable in the Mortal Realm like land titles, financial institutions, business dealings or criminal records. Now, if you want historical accounts, dark fae lord based smutty fan fiction or research papers on the Other Realms, including their positions, dealings and personas in the Underworld, I can email you an extensive reading list.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  “Okay.”

  “No wait,” she said, quickly, before he hung up. “Maybe just a basic summary on their positions and powers in the Underworld.”

  “And the smut?”

  She chewed her lip.

  “Thought so.” Mike laughed. “I’ll send the links.” Her brother hung up before she had a chance to scowl at her screen and punch the red dot.

  “He’s pretty cute, isn’t he?”

  “Mike? God no, but hopefully he’ll find someone who loves him and all his quirks.” She chucked the phone back in her purse.

  “I meant my baby.” Her friend’s tone was dry.

  “Oh yeah. Totally. Not bad for crotch fruit,” Raven mumbled into her coffee. The crisp-flavoured, hot liquid ran down her throat. The heat of the mug warmed her hands. Megan was a trustworthy friend. It was never too hot for coffee at her house, either.

  Megan smiled down at her son before sitting him on the floor in front of a bunch of colourful plastic containers. “Did you just refer to my beloved child as crotch fruit?”

  “Don’t act offended. Until you jumped on this baby-making bandwagon, you were just as horrified with the idea of having children. Besides, didn’t your own husband refer to your lady business as a train wreck when you gave birth?”

  Megan frowned. “I did not appreciate his analogies for my lady business.”

  Raven snorted.

  “He’s not all bad.” Megan’s gaze grew distant, and a whimsical look replaced the disgust.