The City of Crows by Bethany Lovejoy (great books to read .txt) 📕

bustle of the city were visible once more, yet we did not move. A breeze passed, drifting underneath us as it blew past. There were no gravel or other surfaces beneath us, we were floating in the air. Rowan with his wand out and me balanced on top of his lap, gazing down at the city below us.

“Well?” Rowan asked, “are you?”

“We’re alive,” I gasped.

“Yes well,” Rowan said, shifting his body so that he tilted a bit more upward, “no surprise there. Unlimited power typically means that you’re a little bit harder to kill,” he sighed. “But you really did try to end us both, Lyra."

Overwhelmed by joy, I threw my arms around his neck, cheerfully yelling, “Rowan, we’re alive!” The man reddened at my contact, a heavy blush coating him from cheek to cheek. It didn’t matter, none of it really mattered. “You’re going to take me to Leo,” I said, though it was more of a demand than anything else. “We’re going to save him.”

“Lyra, I already told you—” He pushed me away, blinking at the expression on my face. Despair coated my features at what I perceived to be yet another denial. He groaned, still a man ruled by his emotions and the emotions of those around him, “you would have to make a deal with the man.”

“Yes.”

He frowned, leaning closer to me to inspect me properly. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. His hand reached up to cup my face, inspecting me from side to side. There was still a hint of tenderness underneath his features, though I knew that he tried hard to hide it. Rowan was still, though he tried not to be, a sympathetic man. Perhaps signing your soul away didn’t strip your humanity, perhaps it only sent you to hell once it was all over. But still, Rowan’s shifting ribcage and the unfurling black feathers from his arms, was not something that I wanted for Leo. Was living really living if you were damned as well?

“Lyra,” Rowan said, his tongue running over his chapped lips. “You can’t go back. Lydia might have been able to, but you won’t. Your terms and conditions will be much different from hers, much more permanent. You need—”

“But you could help me, you could fix it. There’s an alternative, your pact is fresh. You could cure Leo—” I began but trailed off as I took in his expression. Of course, he wouldn’t do it, of course he wouldn’t want to. To ask him, to put faith in the fact that he would, was cruelty plain and simple. All Rowan could hope for was that the moment I sold my soul away, this would all fade, and I would be back sitting in his arms. To him, the world would be as it should.

“I’m sorry, Lyra,” he spoke, shame poking at the edges of his voice. This was it then, this was the way things were meant to be.

Selfish, both Rowan and I would always be selfish; that was why, though fate and its various mouth pieces spoke otherwise, we would never be able to come together. It was a cruel joke, declaring us to be destined lovers. An even crueler joke to have us meet. I loved Rowan once, for all of the danger and excitement, and he loved me; I was home to him. But there was an ending, there always had to be an ending. That ending for me was six months prior, and for Rowan, it was right now. It was sitting thousands of feet upwards, knowing that whatever it took, I’d choose someone else over him.

My soul for Leo, a man I’d just met, but not him. Never him.

“I’ll take you,” he whispered reluctantly, loathing that he was being compelled to do so. “I’ll take you to him, but I’ll do nothing further. Your deals with the devil are no business of mine.” He leaned forward, his mouth barely brushing my ear, “I’m sorry if you expected more from me, my dear.”

I wish I had, but I knew better. Arms around his shoulders, a single knee popped up underneath me; suspension stopped. I held on as he turned, arms wide and moving, a monstrosity in the sky. This was Rowan, this was reality. This was the end, though not an ending that any of us wanted.

24

Autumn

Opulent white marble steps and wide stone columns greeted me as Rowan shook out his feathers beside me, the lights were on in every window as if to greet me. Tall, wooden doors that seemed to reach impossibly high formed the entrance, I’d only crossed the threshold once before, filling out my registration paperwork when I first entered the city. To the sides, intricately carved statues stood, Atlas holding the world and Lawrence Lobdel placing his hand upon a map to indicate to his settlers where New Haven would soon sit. They were aspirational, hopes that the first city to welcome witches would grow into something more; but they were nothing but empty hopes and broken promises. I couldn’t help but wonder what Lawrence Lobel would say if he knew what the city had grown into, what lurked far down his family line; he was originally a witch hunter, never intending for the integration that would come soon after his death. But was he a witch as well?

I stared at the front doors, large, brass lion heads peered back at me, encouraging me to push forward and enter the beast. Their snarling faces seemed to say it all, turn back, go home. You aren’t meant to be here. They were right.

“Lavish, isn’t it?” Rowan chuckled beside me, finally absorbing all of the feathers back into his skin. “I suppose that’s why they went after Pat first, demons have a taste for the finer things in life. They didn’t want to be camped out in a trailer or some tawdry apartment; doesn’t seem fitting. But the townhall that holds the passageways a famous witch hunter once