Raven Cursed: A Jane Yellowrock Novel by Faith Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

on Fang. And
sooo
outta there. Tears would have made the narrow road hard to follow, but I wasn’t crying. I was mad. And not sure why. Halfway down the park road, my cell vibrated in my pocket. I pulled onto the narrow shoulder and flipped it open, looked at the display. It was Rick’s number, his picture in the small screen. I heaved a breath that hurt my throat. “Yeah?”
    “The grindy smells weird,” Rick said, “and he’s not hanging around much.”
    “Maybe the grindylow is tired of Kemnebi’s drunken anger.”
    Rick laughed softly. “The grindy and I would agree on that one.”
    I thought about how I might get the little green-golem-Yoda to partner with me. Beast rumbled,
Would taste like dead fish. Good eating. Big meal for winter food.
I pushed her away as Rick spoke again.
    “Kem says he smelled wolf last night. He’ll hunt with you when you call.” His voice dropped an octave, soft as the pelt on a big-cat’s stomach, “So will I.” I laughed, the sound hoarse in my aching throat. “I’ve been given the rest of the day off,” he said. “Wanna do lunch?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Not raw fish.”
    “Wait for me at the crossroads. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

CHAPTER FOUR
     

If the Vamp-Poo Became Airborne
     
    We stopped for a late lunch at a little mom-and-pop store that sold local produce, local honey, jellies and jams, chutney, molasses, homemade breads, used books, and local arts and crafts: leather belts, handbags, handmade quilts. They also had a lunch bar and sold the best egg salad sandwiches I’d ever tasted. Between us we ate six sandwiches, out under the shade tree, sitting silently at a heavy cement table on hard, cool benches. The view between the trees, straight down the mountain, into the gorge, was entertainment.
    In the middle of a bite, I noticed Rick’s new key chain and lifted it, letting one corner of my lips curl up as I swallowed. He mirrored the expression and added a little shrug, laughter in his eyes. The old key chain to his red crotch-rocket Kawasaki hadn’t been seen since he was captured and tortured in a hotel room in New Orleans. The new one was a growling, enameled, black leopard on a silver base. Were-humor. Beast hacked with amusement. I pulled out my own and set them together, my Leo key chain with the female African lion and a stylized sun at one paw, next to his black leopard. I left them there, side by side, wondering if now was the time for the
Big Talk
.
    I finished off a chocolate Yoo-Hoo with the last sandwich and ate a banana MoonPie for dessert. They were food I remembered from my youth and brought back memories Ididn’t have time to think about just now. Not with Rick suddenly turning his attention from the view to me.
    “We gonna talk?” he asked.
Yep. Time.
His voice was smooth, calm, not at all accusatory. Even pleasant. There was no reason for me to cringe inside, but I did. “Talking’s overrated,” he added, searching my face, “but there’re things between us that need to be said.”
    I crumpled up the papers and carried them to the garbage can, knowing I was dithering and not knowing how to stop.
    “Jane.”
    I halted with my back to him. Not seeing the view. Not seeing anything. My eyes filling with unwanted, stupid tears. There was so much gentleness in the sound of my name on his lips.
    “I cheated on you with the were-bitch.”
    My shoulders tensed. I raised a hand and brushed away the tears. I took a breath that shuddered through me. But I didn’t turn around, keeping my back to him.
Coward
.
    “You and me, we weren’t . . .
going steady
, or whatever. And I didn’t have any choice in the matter, once I was infected with the were-taint, but I cheated on you. I knew it even when I was sick. I was used to talking my way into women’s good graces and beds for information. It was easy; always had been. And I paid the price for it. I lost my humanity—”
    “Maybe,” I interrupted.
    “Maybe,” he conceded.