dark, staring at small disconnected lights in the distance, wondering what they might be. By the time I realized Oh, hey, those are the headlights of a large truck barreling toward me! it would be too late.
We were halfway to the second set of crossbeams when an angry shadow dove out of the fog, plummeting past my shoulder. The gust from its wings nearly knocked me off the ladder.
“Whoa!” Meg grabbed my left ankle, though that did nothing to steady me. “What was that?”
I caught a glimpse of the bird as it disappeared back into the fog: oily black wings, black beak, black eyes.
A sob built in my throat, as one of the proverbial truck’s headlights became very clear to me. “A raven.”
“A raven?” Reyna frowned down at me. “That thing was huge!”
True, the creature that buzzed me must’ve had a wingspan of at least twenty feet, but then several angry croaks sounded from somewhere in the mist, leaving me in no doubt.
“Ravens, plural,” I corrected. “Giant ravens.”
Half a dozen spiraled into view, their hungry black eyes dancing over us like targeting lasers, assessing our soft-and-tasty weak spots.
“A flock of ravens.” Meg sounded half-incredulous, half-fascinated. “Those are the guards? They’re pretty.”
I groaned, wishing I could be anywhere else—like in bed, under a thick layer of warm Kevlar quilts. I was tempted to protest that a group of ravens was actually called an unkindness or a conspiracy. I wanted to shout that Tarquin’s guards should be disqualified on that technicality. But I doubted Tarquin cared about such niceties. I knew the ravens didn’t. They would kill us either way, no matter how pretty Meg thought they were. Besides, calling ravens unkind and conspiratorial had always seemed redundant to me.
“They’re here because of Koronis,” I said miserably. “This is my fault.”
“Who’s Koronis?” Reyna demanded.
“Long story.” I yelled at the birds, “Guys, I’ve apologized a million times!”
The ravens croaked back angrily. A dozen more dropped out of the fog and began to circle us.
“They’ll tear us apart,” I said. “We have to retreat—back to the first platform.”
“The second platform is closer,” Reyna said. “Keep climbing!”
“Maybe they’re just checking us out,” Meg said. “Maybe they won’t attack.”
She shouldn’t have said that.
Ravens are contrary creatures. I should know—I shaped them into what they are. As soon as Meg expressed the hope that they wouldn’t attack, they did.
I’d like to sing a
Classic for you now. Thank you.
Please stop stabbing me.
IN RETROSPECT, I SHOULD have given ravens sponges for beaks—nice, soft, squishy sponges that weren’t capable of stabbing. While I was at it, I should’ve thrown in some Nerf claws.
But nooo. I let them have beaks like serrated knives and claws like meat hooks. What had I been thinking?
Meg yelled as one of the birds dove by her, raking her arm.
Another flew at Reyna’s legs. The praetor leveled a kick at it, but her heel missed the bird and connected with my nose.
“OWEEEEE!” I yelled, my whole face throbbing.
“My bad!” Reyna tried to climb, but the birds swirled around us, stabbing and clawing and tearing away bits of our clothes. The frenzy reminded me of my farewell concert in Thessalonika back in 235 BCE. (I liked to do a farewell tour every ten years or so, just to keep the fans guessing.) Dionysus had shown up with his entire horde of souvenir-hunting maenads. Not a good memory.
“Lester, who is Koronis?” Reyna shouted, drawing her sword. “Why were you apologizing to the birds?”
“I created them!” My busted nose made me sound like I was gargling syrup.
The ravens cawed in outrage. One swooped, its claws narrowly missing my left eye. Reyna swung her sword wildly, trying to keep the flock at bay.
“Well, can you un-create them?” Meg asked.
The ravens didn’t like that idea. One dove at Meg. She tossed it a seed—which, being a raven, it instinctively snapped out of the air. A pumpkin exploded to full growth in its beak. The raven, suddenly top-heavy with a mouth full of Halloween, plummeted toward the ground.
“Okay, I didn’t exactly create them,” I confessed. “I just changed them into what they are now. And, no, I can’t undo it.”
More angry cries from the birds, though for the moment they stayed away, wary of the girl with the sword and the other one with the tasty exploding seeds.
Tarquin had chosen the perfect guards to keep me from his silent god. Ravens hated me. They probably worked for free, without even a health plan, just hoping to have the chance to bring me