Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,79
was really getting into it—nope, that was a lie, I was already soooo very into it—a screech came from out in the hall.
What in the seventh level of hell?
A massive black bird flew into the room. It dive-bombed me three times. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was trying to peck my eyes out.
Shouting, I swatted at it. “Friends don’t peck friends’ eyes out. It’s a cardinal rule. As old as time itself.” Even if it was a crow and not a cardinal.
I swatted again when it had another go, ripping a few strands of my hair out.
Meanwhile, Roane stood back watching it gouge me to death, not concerned in the least.
It circled my high ceiling with its prize—my hair—before swooping in for a landing and parking its ass on my dresser.
And here it came. The moment I’d been dreading. I eased closer. “I know what you’re thinking.”
It cawed again.
“Listen, I just—”
Ca-caw!
“If you’ll just let me explain.”
It glared at me with the glare of a thousand needles. I never knew a bird could be so expressive. Or contemptuous. Or—
It pecked my hand.
“Ouch.” I raised my hands and patted the air. “Okay—”
Caw.
“I just—”
Caw.
“If you’ll—”
Ca-caw.
“Stop it.”
Caw! Caw! Caw! It flapped its wings to add a visual component to the soundtrack of its bellyaching.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Now you’re just being obstinate.”
It glared again, its stormy gray eyes burning a hole into me as though I were an ant under a magnifying glass.
In the sunlight, I could see smoke wafting off its singed feathers, which were oddly curly. “On the bright side, you’re literally smoking hot.”
It lowered its beak, its eyes half-mast, as it continued to regard me with a special seething kind of hatred.
“At least you’re alive, though, right?”
It didn’t move.
“Annette, you’re going to have to forgive me eventually.”
Nothing. Nada. Zip.
“You can talk, you know. I mean . . . I think you can talk.” I looked at Roane, suddenly worried.
He stood there grinning and shrugged. No help whatsoever.
I chewed on my lower lip. “You can talk, right?”
“Of course, I can talk.” She had no lips. It was like watching a ventriloquist. She flapped her wings, her high-pitched voice a bit like nails on a chalkboard. “But I sound ridiculous!”
She wasn’t wrong. I hid a snicker in fear of losing an eye. Or the rest of my hair. “This is amazing.” I eased closer. “Can I pet you?”
“I dare you to try.”
“Your afterfeathers are curly! Just like your hair!” They were a lighter color, too. Much like the color her hair had been, a soft chestnut. Against the raven black, she made a beautiful crow. Not that I was about to tell her that. I put a hand over my heart, dying from all the cuteness. Which was better than dying by beak.
“I will peck you to death in your sleep.”
“I don’t think I’d sleep through something like that.”
“Change me back, or else.”
I straightened. “What?”
“Change me back.”
“What do you mean?” My gaze shot to Roane then returned to her. “I can’t change you back. You’re supposed to shift back to human form on your own. You know, like a bona fide shapeshifter. Roane can do it.”
She blinked at me, her beady eyes narrowing in for the kill. “Just how am I supposed to do that?”
“Well, I—I’m not sure exactly.” It wasn’t like the spell had come with directions.
Her wings flapped again, and I suddenly understood the meaning of the word unflappable. Annette being the antitheses. “Why would you do this to me?”
“Because you were about to be crushed by a building. I needed to shift you so you could get out of your bindings into something small so you could fit through tight spaces like the missing floorboard above you and fast so you could go airborne and fly away before the building crushed you.”
She blinked again, unimpressed, her lower lids sliding up to meet her upper ones. It was fascinating.
“And crows are really smart,” I continued.
“Smart?”
I nodded.
“My brain is the size of a pea, and I’m very attracted to shiny things.”
“See? Nothing has changed. Wait,” I said. She was missing the most important part of this entire conversation. “You’re alive.” I jumped into Roane’s arms and kissed him. “She’s alive.”
He stared down at me. Pulled me closer. Brushed a thumb across my lower lip.
Just as his head descended, Annette squawked again. “Crows before bros, buddy! Out.”
I stood back and smoothed my sweater down. “Maybe I should go see Ruthie.”