The Rabbit And The Raven Read online

  Jon was seeing things clearly too. But the scene before him was one of horror, not wonder. Some lady was trying to convince Marisol to step into the yawning oval of a mouth, one that belonged to a nasty-looking carnivorous plant.

  Once those fang-fringed jaws enveloped her, Marisol would slowly be digested in the plant’s acidic juices. It would not be a pleasant way to die.

  “Sol!” Jon screamed. Dropping his torch, he launched himself at her, knocking her to the ground.

  The plant’s jaws snapped shut, and Marisol seemed to waken from a daze. The torch still burned faintly where it lay. In the light from its embers, she took in the plant with wide eyes, not quite understanding.

  “Mami?” Marisol asked.

  “Sí, mija. I’m right here,” the lady replied.

  Her mother? Jon thought. There was a resemblance there. It wasn’t that he didn’t know who Esperanza Garcia was. He couldn’t stand in the checkout line at the grocery store without seeing her face plastered on the cover of some sleazy tabloid magazine. But Marisol almost never talked about her, so in his mind, the Esperanza Garcia who had been a model, and the woman who was his girlfriend’s mother, were not the same person.

  Esperanza reached out for Marisol, beckoning to her, and the hairs on the back of Jon’s neck stood on end. Something about this woman was all wrong, and it wasn’t just because she had tried to lure her daughter into the maw of a flesh-eating plant. Following his instincts, Jon got to his feet and blocked the woman from putting her hands on Marisol.

  The woman glared at him. “Do not keep me from my daughter,” she said.

  “That’s not your mother, Sol,” Jon said. “It just looks like her.” He drew his sword and held it out in front of him with both hands. Marisol got up and stood behind Jon, looking unsure.

  “Don’t listen to him, mi hija. You know it’s me,” the woman said.

  A dark shadow passed over the woman’s face, and she looked up into the canopy, her attention drawn away from Jon and Marisol. Then she let loose a high-pitched shriek that made Jon’s blood run cold.

  Marisol covered her ears with her hands and pressed against him.

  He shifted his grip on his weapon, moving to hold the sword in one hand and wrap his other arm firmly around Marisol. La Llorona, he thought, tightening his grip on the sword’s hilt. The screamer has returned.

  The woman’s form seemed to waver and blur as though she were standing in a column of mist. Then Jon’s view of her was obscured when a solid mass of blackness crash-landed on top of her, something that came from the trees.

  “David, wake up! We need you!” Abby cried. She would have shaken him awake, but with her arms bound, the best she could do was stretch out one finger to tap his forehead.

  David opened his eyes and looked alarmed when he saw Abby’s face. “What’s going on?” he asked. He scrambled to his feet, fully alert.

  “Marisol is missing and Jon ran off to find her. You have to help him,” Abby said.

  “What about you and Cael?” David asked.

  Abby looked over at Cael. He had not awakened—he seemed to be in a feverish, fitful sleep, fighting the infection ravaging his body.

  “We’re fine. Just go!” Abby said.

  “Okay—be back as soon as I can,” David called out as he sped off into the darkness, changing form mid-leap.

  Between the shrieking and a low growling noise, it was impossible to hear anything else, and Jon’s view of the woman was almost completely blocked by the dark shape doing the growling. Something about the woman’s form had changed though, because she had sprouted a long, serpentine tail. It uncoiled, disappearing into the trees beyond, and then reappearing suddenly in a blur of black and white, smashing into the creature on top of her.

  Jon pulled Marisol to the ground and lay on top of her, shielding her as the tail whipped around wildly, knocking into the trees around them. Jon couldn’t hear the crack of the breaking branches over the woman’s shrieking, but he could see the tree limbs falling around him.

  The end of the tail slammed into the dark shape again, and the creature leapt away, clinging to the trunk of a tree. It seemed to be some kind of giant panther, with jet black fur and glowing golden eyes.

  Esperanza Garcia was gone and in her place was a horror—something with a grey, dappled upper body like a toad and a face that vaguely resembled an old woman’s. Below her waist was the tail of a snake. The lamia had raised her paddled tail above her head, preparing to smash the panther, when the big cat launched itself at her face.

  Jon seized the opportunity to jump up and pull Marisol to her feet. “Run,” he said.

  The white lion David joined the battle just as Jon and Marisol disappeared into the trees. The first thing he saw was a black, panther-like shape attacking a snake woman. Tierney, he thought. He growled and took a swipe at the giant cat, digging his claws into the creature’s shoulder.

  The cat yowled in pain. It turned its head, looked at him, and ran off into the forest.

  The lamia watched it disappear and turned to David, smiling. “Thank you, Solas Beir. He was rather annoying, wasn’t he?” Then she whipped her tail at David, flinging him against the trunk of a tree.

  “Cael!” Abby cried. “Cael, please wake up.” If Cael weren’t so sick, he would already have been on his feet, sword drawn.

  She was terrified—she could hear someone screaming in the trees. It had to be whatever had kept them awake that first night, and it sounded like it was getting closer. She had no idea where David and the others were, or if they were okay.

  If only she weren’t bound. If only Cael would just wake up and untie her. She strained against the vines, but it was no use. David had been very thorough. Exactly which evil spirit possessed me to think being tied up in a haunted forest was a good idea? she thought. Not one of your brightest ideas, Abby. Not bright at all.

  She heard a low growl and saw a dark shape approaching from the other side of the camp. It looked like a huge jaguar with black-on-black spots, and it was slinking toward Cael’s still body.

  “Leave him alone!” Abby shouted. The cat turned its gaze toward her, and again, she wished she weren’t tied to a tree. It was coming toward her now, and there was nowhere for her to hide.

  The jaguar crept closer until she could feel its hot, feline breath. Then the vines went slack.

  David’s head was spinning, but he got to his feet. The lamia packed quite a punch with that scaly tail of hers. He saw the tail whizzing back toward him and crouched low before it could give him another lashing. It crashed into a section of tree trunk above him, raining splinters of bark onto his mane. The tail seemed to be her primary weapon—the rest of her, the more human-looking parts, seemed pretty weak. If he could just take the tail out of the equation, he would have the upper hand.

  The tail was coiled up, ready to deliver the next blow. It’s now or never, he thought, as the tail uncurled again and came flying toward him. She was aiming low, so he leapt up, launching himself off the trunk of a tree, and landed on top of the tail as it swept past. She whipped her tail back angrily, but he sank his claws into her reptilian flesh and held on.

  This is going to be one wild ride, he thought. And he was right. He felt himself slam into a tree again, and heard the snap, crackle, and pop of breaking branches as she tried to shake him off. The trunk of the tree was mercilessly unyielding against his back, but after several minutes of being thrashed against it, David could feel things changing. The snake woman’s enthusiasm and vigor lessened, as though she were tiring from trying to lift her tail with his weight on it.

  David smiled grimly to himself. Taking the wind out of your sails, am I, sweet pea? He sunk his claws in deeper and bit the tail. He could feel a heat building in his paws, searing her flesh. The lamia started shrieking, and her tail slumped to the ground like a dead thing, twitching slightly.

  Retracting his claws, David moved away from the tail and slipped back into his human form. He walked over to the lady
end of the lamia and stood staring at her while she continued her shrill, senseless screaming. She was as annoying as a three-in-the-morning car alarm. “Oh, shut up,” he said, and punched her squarely in the face.

  She did. Dazed, she stared back at him, blessedly silent. Then she hissed, turned, and slithered off into the darkness, like a naughty child who had been shamed into obedience.

  David watched to make sure she was gone, then hurried back to camp, shifting into a lion so he could run faster. The first thing he saw when he arrived was the black cat. It was crouching over Cael’s body and snarling up at Jon and Marisol, who had climbed a tree. Abby was nowhere to be seen.

  David launched himself at the giant feline, flipping it on its back, pinning it to the ground with his front paws.

  “David—no!” Cael cried, trying to sit up. But he was too weak to even manage that, and he collapsed onto the ground as his elbows slid out from under him in the soft dirt.

  The large cat underneath David dissolved into a man with dark hair and skin and a lean, muscled body. He was wearing nothing but a loincloth and a grin.

  “Greetings, Solas Beir,” he said.

  “David,” Cael croaked. “Please do not eat the Southern Oracle.”

  Immediately, David slipped back into his human form. Red-faced with embarrassment, he stared at the man before him. He had tried to kill the very person he’d hoped would become his ally. “My deepest apologies, Southern Oracle. I mistook you for someone else.”

  David stood up and helped the man to his feet. Then he reached for a cask and knelt to help Cael take a drink.

  “Oh? And who might that be?” the Southern Oracle asked, frowning as he brushed dirt from his skin.

  “Tierney,” David said, avoiding the man’s stern gaze.

  “Forgive us, Southern Oracle,” Cael intervened, “but we have been haunted by many a horror these past nights. The journey to your village has been rather treacherous.”

  “And I see that you have not arrived unscathed,” the Southern Oracle noted, crossing his arms. He looked up at Jon and Marisol, still in the tree, and smiled widely. “You can come down now. I promise not to eat you.”

  “Thanks,” Jon said. “We appreciate that.” He climbed down to join the others.

  “It appears I, too, was mistaken,” the oracle said to Cael. “After your Solas Beir attacked me instead of the lamia, I assumed you lot were a threat to the safety of my village. I—”

  “Where’s Abby?” David interrupted. He looked around frantically; he could feel himself growing panicked. Maybe she hid, he thought, trying to reassure himself. But how could she if she was tied up?

  “She was gone when we got here,” Marisol said, swinging down from her perch. She narrowed her eyes at the Southern Oracle. “You didn’t eat her, did you?”

  David’s eyes widened with alarm as he looked from Marisol to the Southern Oracle.

  The Southern Oracle laughed. “No, my dear, I did not. I fear, however, I may have given her a terrible fright. Do not worry—she did not go far.” He peered around the tree with the vines that had bound Abby. “Come on out, little one.”

  The head of a white rabbit hesitantly peeked out over a tree root. The Southern Oracle chuckled and knelt down. “Come on, now. I will not bite.”

  The rabbit hopped out from behind the tree. It stuck out a front paw as if it were studying it, and then looked up at the people towering above it. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” it said.

  David’s mouth gaped open in shock. “Abby?”

  “Yeah,” the rabbit answered. “It’s me.”

  “Oh.” He sighed with relief. She was okay. Mostly.

  “Yep,” Abby the rabbit said. “Of course, I’m the one who turns into a pathetic fur ball.”

  “I wouldn’t call you pathetic,” David said, not even bothering to hide his smile. “You’re kind of adorable.” He picked her up.

  “And fluffy,” Marisol added, stroking Abby’s soft fur.

  “Not helping,” the rabbit growled. “Guess we know why Tierney had that little nickname for me. I’m going to murder him the next time I see him.”

  “Well now. You are a pleasant little one,” the Southern Oracle laughed, scratching behind Abby’s long ears. “I apologize for not introducing myself properly. I am also known as the Jaguar King, for reasons that may be most apparent to you.”

  “Quite,” Abby said, squirming in David’s arms. She hopped to the ground and turned back into her human self. “Never thought I’d be turning into an animal too.” She scrunched up her nose as if it itched, sneezed, and brushed away the fine white hair that had been tickling her. “And apparently I’m allergic to myself. Fantastic.”

  “That was quite impressive,” the Southern Oracle smiled.

  “Really? Because that’s not quite the word I was thinking of,” Abby countered.

  “My dear girl, to be human and be able to transform yourself? That is most impressive. Never mind that the form seems diminutive. Every creature serves a purpose, no matter the size,” the oracle said.

  “Don’t forget about Fergal,” David added, taking Abby’s hand. “He’s wicked with a sword and he’s little too.”

  “I’ll try to remember that as I hop around. Maybe I’ll slay my enemies with lethal cuteness,” Abby scowled.

  “Perhaps you will,” the oracle chuckled. “I have no doubt you would be quite fearsome in battle.” He reached up into the tree and pulled down some leaves from a parasitic plant attached to the tree’s trunk. He walked over to Cael, knelt down, and pressed the leaves to Cael’s wound. “Here, my friend. This should help you.”

  Cael winced at the oracle’s touch, and then his face relaxed as the swelling in his leg eased. A nasty-looking greenish pus began to ooze from the wound. “Oh, that is foul,” Cael groaned, covering his nose. “Most foul indeed.”

  “Indeed,” the oracle agreed, nodding. “But we must leech out the venom.” He looked up at Marisol. “You, girl—what is your name?”

  “Marisol,” she replied.

  “Ah, yes. A lovely name,” the Southern Oracle said. “You climb well—grab a few more of those leaves to take with us. There is another plant higher up.”

  Marisol scampered up the trunk of the tree and reached for a plant. The oracle watched her and then shook his head vigorously. “No, no—not that one. Never that one. That plant will kill you. The one beside it.”

  “But they look exactly the same,” Marisol said, exasperated.

  “Not to me,” the oracle replied. “There are subtle differences not easily discerned by the untrained eye.”

  Marisol shot him a look and took leaves from the correct plant, avoiding the deadly one. She jumped down and brought them to the oracle.

  “Thank you, dear,” the Southern Oracle said. “Do you have a pack to keep them safe? I am traveling a bit light, as you can see.”

  Marisol nodded, keeping her eyes on his to avoid having to acknowledge what served as fashion in this part of the kingdom, David assumed. Then she looked up into the canopy, which had faded from black to grey. “It’s almost dawn.”

  “Yes,” the oracle said. “My village is not far. If we start now, we should arrive in time for dinner. Shall we be off?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” David said. “Cael is still too weak to walk, though. I’ll carry him.”

  “Good,” the oracle said. “I would, but you seem to have damaged my shoulder in our earlier battle with the lamia.”

  “Oh—I’m sorry about that,” David apologized. “Abby told me that Tierney appeared to her as a black panther, so I assumed, incorrectly…”

  “He appeared to her and did not kill her,” the Southern Oracle mused. It was a statement loaded with questions.

  Abby shrugged. “He wasn’t in a killing mood.”

  “Intriguing,” the oracle said.

  “He looks different than you—you have spots and he has stripes, like a black tiger,” Abby clarified. She glanced over at David and then
turned back to the oracle. “Not that it would be easy to tell the difference in the dark. But he also has long fangs, like a saber-toothed cat.”

  The oracle nodded. “Indeed, he does. And I am surprised you did not become more intimately acquainted with them.”

  “He just wanted to chat,” Abby said.

  The Southern Oracle stared at her, his eyes intense. “About what, pray tell?”

  Abby shifted uncomfortably under the oracle’s gaze, and glanced back over at David. David nodded for her to continue. “He was trying to get me to see his side of things…and to recruit me,” she admitted.

  “Well, dear Abby, I can see there is much more to you than just a small white rabbit. I will be interested to learn more during our visit,” the oracle said.

  “May I heal your shoulder before we go?” David offered.

  “I would like that. It has been a long time since I have held counsel with a Solas Beir, and longer still since I have seen one heal.” The Southern Oracle presented his shoulder; long, red claw marks stretched all the way from the joint to the blade.

  David placed his hands over them and felt the heat flow from his palms. He winced as the wound transferred to his body.

  “Ah, that is much better,” the oracle sighed, flexing his arm and shoulder. “Well done, Solas Beir. You have your father’s healing hands. Now, please, allow me to be the one to carry our friend.”

  David tried to ignore the burning pain in his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, his jaw clenched. “I’d appreciate it.”

  The oracle helped Cael to his feet, and Cael cautiously tried putting weight on his injured leg. “I thank you as well, Southern Oracle. I am feeling better, but I can still feel venom in the wound.”

  The oracle slipped his arm around Cael, supporting him. “Have no worry, my friend. In a few days’ time, the wound will be healed completely. It was fortunate that I encountered you in this part of the forest. The healing plants grow in abundance here. Now, come. My people will be excited about your arrival. We do not have guests very often.”