Crow (Faeries of Oz Book 2) Read online

  “I snuck out for a reason,” she spat.

  Crow shrugged as if it meant nothing, though he felt like a fire ignited in his chest. “I’m well aware that you wanted to avoid my ‘tagging along.’ I’m not stupid—my curse was broken too.”

  “Are you sure about that? It seems like you’re having trouble taking a hint.” The chains creaked and groaned as the net swayed.

  Crow snorted. “That’s nothing new, is it?”

  “Far from it,” Reva admitted. “Maybe if I’d been blunter before leaving Glinda’s, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “It would’ve only endeared you to me more.”

  Her gaze shifted toward the sky and she let out a loud breath through her nose. “Get lost, Crow,” she finally said.

  He smiled and took a few steps away. Even now, she was as feisty as he remembered. “If you insist.”

  “I deserve to kill Locasta for what she did to me and to Thelia!” Reva shouted, her emerald eyes boring into him. “I deserve it! And I deserve to do it on my own terms.”

  He knew she was right. Locasta had been his burden to bear until he’d asked for Reva’s help. Perhaps he should’ve stayed and taken Locasta’s abuse so the females he loved would’ve never known so much pain. But then Thelia wouldn’t have been born. Neither he nor Reva could’ve known the outcome of his trip to see the Good Witch of the West—the love that would blossom between them—but, regardless, he was the one who had brought Locasta’s wrath down on Reva. Crow took a steadying breath and quickly sliced the rope surrounding the nearby tree branch. Spinning, he caught Reva in his arms, net and all. The iron burned his fingers but he found it hard to care as he clutched her tightly. It had been too long since he held her. “Reva,” he breathed.

  “Put me down,” she growled, twisting in his arms and batting at the iron.

  “Sorry.” Crow set her on her backside and helped peel the net away. “Are you okay?”

  “Just wonderful.” She stood and blew a piece of ruffled hair from her face. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  Crow swept an arm out to let her by, then promptly followed on her heels.

  “That wasn’t an invitation, Crow.”

  He laughed. “Since when have I ever needed one?”

  “Crow—”

  “Reva.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. She quickly yanked it out of his grip. “I understand why you’re angry. I do. But Locasta came after our family because of me. If this is your fight, your … revenge, then it’s mine too. You want to be the one to kill her? Fine. But I have my own vengeance to chase. It will benefit us both if we work together and, if I have the chance to make things right between us, all the better.”

  “There is no making things right,” Reva gritted through a clenched jaw. Emotion flickered in her gaze for a brief second, then disappeared. She scanned him up and down. “You want to come? Then keep up. I won’t wait. And I get to kill the bitch when we find her.”

  “Fair enough.” They would be stronger together. Safer. He hurried after Reva as she started for the road again. “I can’t fly anymore, but I’m more than capable of matching your pace.”

  “Can’t fly?” She looked at him over her shoulder with narrowed eyes.

  Crow shrugged. “I was looking for the human Dorothy and… Locasta didn’t like that very much. My other form is completely useless now.” Not that it had been any good the night Thelia was born.

  Reva faltered. “Why didn’t you get one of the Wizard’s cures?”

  “Oz destroyed them all before he disappeared.”

  “Like hell he did,” Reva barked. “The only thing more important to him than his precious medicines is faerie fruit.”

  Could that be true? He’d gone to the Emerald City for a cure right after Locasta broke him, but the guards had turned him away to protect the Wizard’s reputation. When he’d gone to the tavern to drown his many sorrows, the other patrons told him tales of Oz’s outbursts—including one that destroyed all his potions. He’d been so disheartened at the time and the dryad had sounded so sure when she’d relayed the information. But if there was a chance the rumors were wrong—a chance they were really still in the palace….

  “We have to go to the Emerald City,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  “Fuck no. I won’t delay my vengeance.”

  “It will actually take us less time to cross through the Emerald City than it would to go around it,” he reasoned.

  Reva cast him a hard stare over her shoulder. “I may have only been back a few days, but I’ve heard what the capital is like now.”

  “If we can’t survive the city unscathed, how will we hope to survive Locasta?” he asked. Then, without waiting for her to reply, added, “I need some of Oz’s potions to heal my other form.”

  “You should have gotten them long ago.”

  “Reva.” His voice cracked and he slammed his jaw shut. He wouldn’t beg—if she insisted on heading straight to the North, he would go with her and get the cure after they killed Locasta.

  She slowed her steps for a moment. “Fine. Since it’s faster than going around.”

  A relieved breath fell from his lips. They had both already suffered so much over the years, and if there was a chance for his bird form to heal…

  “Wait!” He quickly caught up to her, questions about the dark place burning inside him. “Thelia told me that her magic sent you somewhere else. What was it like?”

  Reva pressed her lips into a tight line. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”

  But Crow knew that it did matter. It mattered very much.

  Chapter Six

  Reva

  Crow can’t fly.

  Reva told herself not to care about his strong, elegant bird wings being useless. Again, because of the Northern Witch… He’d asked about the dark place, and in that moment, she’d wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to speak of it to anyone, least of all him.

  For now, they would need to cut through the Emerald City to gather potions to help Crow. To be honest, she didn’t want to leave his bird form broken, but that didn’t mean she wanted them to go together. Perhaps Glinda would have said Reva was being too harsh on him. Perhaps Thelia would have agreed. Perhaps Ozma would have said forgiveness was the answer. The old Reva would have fucked him right against the nearest tree trunk. But this wasn’t then, this was now. She’d been a cursed, monstrous creature who slaughtered fae after fae, and she could forgive herself—and him—for that. But because of Crow, her daughter had been taken away from her.

  Thelia could have died. There were so many times her life could have dissolved—a simple snap of the neck from Locasta was all it would have taken. In the human world, she could have met any number of unknown fates. Or worse, Langwidere could have been wearing Thelia’s fucking head right now if Thelia hadn’t drawn up her magic and defeated the bitch. All of this was because of Crow’s scorned ex-lover—Locasta. The Northern Witch’s vendetta against Crow. Reva wasn’t an idiot—she knew it wasn’t completely Crow’s fault. But it didn’t make things—or her—feel any better. Reva hadn’t gotten to spend more than a few hours with her daughter.

  Something green slid in front of Reva’s face, interrupting her thoughts. It was round and bright. Her eyes shifted to the glistening apple. The perfect firmness. No bruises, no dents—the faerie fruit would taste divine.

  Reva wanted to slap the apple out of Crow’s hand and make him hurt again, make him feel the pain she’d felt while in that dark place before Ozma had come. But she was selfish in that moment, she was greedy, and she was hungry. So instead, she ripped the fruit from his grasp and pressed the apple in between her lips to bite into it. The sweet liquid drizzled out onto her tongue. Almost as good as sex.

  “You’re welcome,” Crow said, fighting a smile while he watched her take another bite.

  A cool breeze ruffled the ends of her hair as she side-eyed him with no reply and continued on. Reva wondered if he’d walked this same path with Thelia when her daughter had first come to Oz. She knew her silence couldn’t last all of her immortal life, because she had questions.

  Reva finished the apple and tossed the core along the edge of the yellow brick road. A swarm of tiny faeries flew from the foliage to finish off the core.

  Taking a breath, Reva looked past the blooming trees at the clouds in the distance. “What was Thelia like?” She paused, her nails digging into her palms. “When you first met her?”

  Crow didn’t miss a beat, as if he’d been expecting the question. He had always known her better than anyone. “Even though the curse made it impossible to think clearly, I remember every moment I spent with her.” He rubbed a hand against his jawline. “When I first met Thelia in the corn field, she wasn’t frightened in the least. She was strong-willed and determined like you, a thinker like me. As a child, she already seemed fit to rule.”

  From the brief moments Reva had spent with Thelia, she felt he was right.

  Another thing nagged at her, and she knew it would only bring about anger, but she chose to be a glutton for punishment anyway. “Why didn’t you tell her who she was? After your curse was broken, you could have told her.”

  Crow inhaled deeply through his nostrils and shook his head. “Would it have made her life any better? Thelia was a child. Can you imagine telling a child that they killed their own mother? Young fae adjust differently, but she was raised as a human. It would have destroyed her at that age. As much as you hate it, Thelia had a home already, a life. People who loved her.”

  Reva curled her hands into fists, the lightning sparking off them as she slowly turned to face him. “Did you know when she went back to the human world, they thought she was mad? They poked and prodded her to try and make her better
! When there was nothing wrong with her to begin with!”

  Crow’s eyes widened and his throat bobbed. “She—she didn’t tell me about that.”

  “The people who raised her did it because they thought she was crazy and that it would help her.” She held up a hand before he could interrupt. “And you know what Thelia told me: if she wasn’t fae, the process could have either killed her or left her mind like yours was when you’d been cursed. Only, for Thelia, the damage would have been permanent.”

  “I only did what I thought was right for her.” Crow’s eyes glistened, his dark hair falling forward. “We all make mistakes.”

  “You more than anyone.” Reva charged away from him before she spat out more than she wanted to—about wishing she hadn’t met him. But that would be a lie… Thelia would never have been born. And she didn’t let herself think about the good moments between them either.

  He grabbed her by the elbow, turning her to face him. “You’ve made mistakes too, Reva. It was your idea for us to hide in that house despite the number of fae living nearby who could see us. It was your idea not to have any guards with us for the birth. So you can’t blame everything on me.” He jabbed at his chest. “But you know what? I don’t blame you. Because, like I said, we all make mistakes.”

  “Yet you brought it up.” A part of her knew Crow was right, that it was her fault too. But that raging other part of her held on tighter. She’d been in that dark place for too long, and it still held onto a piece of her, more than the curse had.

  “I—”

  “Just stop talking,” she said with a sigh, “and let’s hurry so we can make it to the Emerald City sometime tomorrow.”

  Crow didn’t say a word, only clenched his jaw and walked beside her.

  Reva wondered how the Emerald City would look now. Thelia had told her what she’d seen from afar. It would be dangerous, especially if they went to the palace, but Reva was already used to that. She had her magic, and she could outrun almost anything.

  They continued traveling for a long while, and she studied all the scenery they passed, trying to recall if it had changed since she’d been gone. It all seemed like a blur of greenery in her memories now.

  As the light in the sky lessened, and the clouds turned gray from a storm brewing, Reva couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer. On the journey, they’d only stopped to eat and relieve themselves. Neither one had spoken another word to each other. She didn’t know why it irritated her that he’d listened to her and stayed silent, but it did.

  “So, how many people did you fuck while I was away?” she asked, her tone accusing.

  Crow stilled, his gaze sliding to hers. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

  She cocked her head as an influx of emotions rocketed through her. Hurt. Jealousy. Bitterness. “That many then.”

  Loud hooting blared in the distance, leaving Crow with his mouth hanging open, his words trapped inside. She knew that familiar sound, just as she knew the feel of her own heartbeat.

  The storm clouds were blowing in faster than expected, quickly eclipsing the sky. A loud boom of thunder cracked and trembled above them.

  The rumbling set the cursed pixies into a screeching frenzy. They had once belonged to her—another creation courtesy of Locasta—and helped the cursed Reva to do her merciless bidding. She remembered Whispa, her loyal friend, becoming the first of the night beasts. Her heart got stuck in her throat at remembering seeing what Whispa had become, flying Thelia away. Whispa had been with her family for years, and now Reva didn’t know what had become of her.

  The Emerald City was only a few hours away now, but she and Crow wouldn’t make it before the darkness swallowed them whole—not even close.

  One of the advantages the cursed pixies had was their keen hearing. And she knew they would recognize her scent, even if she wasn’t the same wicked green creature anymore. Reva could control them back then, but she couldn’t now.

  She whirled to face Crow. “Shift!”

  His gaze searched the tops of trees. “I can’t fly. And even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to carry you.”

  “You don’t need to!” The cursed pixies were fast and they would arrive any moment. She knew just where to go and it would be much faster to carry him, while leaving the pixies with less opportunity to harm him. They were only small specks right now, but they were gaining speed. “Shift!”

  In a flash of black smoke, as if his fae form had never been, Crow stood with one foot on the ground in his bird form. He ruffled his obsidian feathers, one wing hanging limply. Reva quickly scooped him up as the cursed pixies drew closer, their hoots echoing straight to her marrow.

  Crow remained quiet, but his body fidgeted when she drew him to her chest. “This is as close to me as you’re ever going to get again.”

  As the darkness set in and soft sprinkles hit her skin, Reva scurried from the yellow brick road and headed into the forest to where she’d last relieved herself. Deeper and deeper, pushing branch after branch out of the way, she searched for the shelter she’d seen earlier. Just up ahead rested a gray mound of rock with a wooden chimney and matching door. She didn’t know if anyone was home—she didn’t care either.

  Around her and Crow, the hooting turned into vicious screeching. The cursed pixies, with their skeletal forms and elongated arms, surrounded her, swarming and swarming. Reva’s thunderous magic roared through her veins, and the emerald lightning crackled onto her free palm. She flicked her left arm to the side, tossing a bolt of lightning at a beast baring its fangs, burning it to a crisp as it howled. Another pixie came, then another. But not as many as she’d thought would attack. Some appeared confused, their wings pumping in the air, their bodies unmoving, as though they didn’t know if they wanted her to be their master once more or if they wanted to kill her for controlling them in the first place. Others didn’t seem to care as one’s claws struck the flesh of her neck and another sliced the top of her hand.

  She spun the lightning so that it spread and spread, cocooning her and Crow within its depths. The cursed pixies jolted forward, bouncing off the current, too stupid to realize it would lead to their deaths. Sprinting forward, Reva dropped her magic when she reached the door to the rock mound. She turned the knob, finding it unlocked, and threw herself into the dark home before slamming the door shut with her boot. Chest heaving, she set Crow on the stone floor and a moldy scent hit her nose.

  The cursed pixies screeched and raged on the opposite side of the door. Reva let a spark of lightning flicker in the center of her palm as she scanned the abandoned shelter. Whoever had once lived here must not have been around for years. Cobwebs and dust coated a wooden table without chairs. A feathered mattress with holes and a blanket was against a rocky wall. Broken cups were strewn across the dirt floor. Two logs rested in the fireplace in the back, and there seemed to be no other rooms.

  Reva tossed a few sparks of her magic at the logs, flames instantly catching and rising.

  The cursed pixies’ cries still hadn’t stopped. Rapid scratching came at the door, making her flinch. In the distance their wild howls continued, accompanied by pained screams—some of the cursed pixies must have found other victims to satisfy their hunger. A sense of guilt washed over her that this was happening to innocent fae because she’d led them here.

  Crow still stood on the ground near the door, seeming to guard it. In that form, he wouldn’t be able to fight off anything.

  Reva pressed her hands on her hips. “You can shift back now.”

  In the glowing light of the fire, his brown eyes met hers, and he shook his small head. A low caw escaped his dark beak.

  Her brow furrowed as she crept closer. “You never had a problem shifting back before.”

  With a tilt of his head, he used his beak to ruffle the feathers of his wing. She could see the misshapen areas of his fragile bones, and she almost gasped. Crow had told her that he couldn’t fly, but he hadn’t mentioned that it was this bad.

  “The broken wings make it harder for you to change back?”

  He nodded, his wing dragging on the floor.

  “Come on then. Rest and shift in the morning.” She sighed. No need to argue with him in this condition. “We’re getting up early so we can make it to the capital tomorrow.”