Flight of the Crow by Melanie Thompson Read Free Book Online

hit the robe it smoked and Fenix began screaming.
    The baby’s shrill cries ate into Bryn’s ears. She clutched Fingle’s arm tighter as more blood dripped onto the baby. The smoke from the blood gathered into a solid black mass and spread to cover Fenix in a roiling, churning cloud so thick Bryn couldn’t see her. The baby’s screams intensified until Bryn was ready to yank her sister into her arms. Fingle must have felt her intention from the tension in her grip and grabbed her shoulders to keep her from doing it. She struggled in his grasp as the cloud around Fenix spread and the amount of pooling blood seemed enormous. The fluid spread across the decking an evil blue glowing in the moonlight.
    The nun’s face grew paler and paler as the blood from Lazarus’s wrist dripped out in a steady flow. Somehow, the vampire was draining her life force without even touching her. His face remained intent as he continued chanting in the strange language. The words suddenly began to appear in the air above Fenix. Each word was silver and sparkled. They were solid for a moment and then dissolved into sparkling dust which spread across the cloud of smoke making the entire cloud shimmer as though covered with fairy dust.
    Fenix’s screams stopped and tears flowed from Bryn’s eyes. Her heart felt like it was climbing out of her mouth. When she glanced at the nun, she gasped. The woman seemed to be fading into thin air. Her form was almost transparent as she sank into herself. She grew paler and paler until Bryn could see the balcony’s railing through her. Her expression never changed. She continued to stare at Lazarus with trust in her eyes as the cloud over the baby grew. When she suddenly disappeared, Bryn screamed and Lazarus stumbled and wavered. He made the sign of the cross over the thick swirling silvery cloud surrounding Fenix.
    Lazarus stepped away from the cloud as it slowly dissipated. Bryn saw movement in the cloud and moaned. A slim hand shot out of the cloud. Bryn grabbed it and pulled. Her sister slowly emerged from the fog wearing the nun’s purple cloak. She looked to be around twenty. Her golden eyes sparkled as she shook out her mane of red gold hair. She smiled, a crooked grin Bryn easily recognized, and spoke. “Dearest sister, where on earth have I been?”

Chapter 6
    Draak Priest slipped down a dark alley off the rue de la Victoire , avoided an overflowing trash container, jumped a puddle of disgusting water and shook out the long robe of his cassock. As he strolled by three Parisian street walkers smoking thin cigarettes, he made the sign of the cross and passed them by. They were grouped under a gas light probably believing there was safety in numbers. They were right in that, he didn’t wish to pluck one bird from a group. He wanted a solitary woman, maybe one not so pretty, who needed money badly enough to follow him back to his apartment close to Saint-Sulpice Church and the entrance into the catacombs.
    He kept strolling, finally spotting likely prey. A young woman dressed like a street walker leaned against an old building. He slid into the shadows and watched as she lifted her skirt and took something out of the garter holding her left stocking. It was a purse. She counted the coins in it, made a sad face, and replaced it. She had an amazing mane of red-gold hair and desperation oozed from her. She was perfect.
    He did not question why she was in an isolated place. Often one whore would be ostracized for having no pimp to protect her or maybe for stealing a customer or even for not paying enough respect to the queens on the block.
    With one look down the dark alley to make sure he was not seen, he advanced on the woman. When he got close, he saw she was very young, maybe new to the profession. He lifted a finger and she came across the street to him, tripping on the rough cobblestones. She caught herself, stumbled to her feet and brushed dirt off the