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

the power to begin with,” a voice carried across the hall. “He gives empty promises and keeps taking, pooling together power to fulfill small wishes at extraordinary costs,” a voice supplemented. “Sucking up power wherever he goes and collecting souls, because those who give power don’t exactly need to be wandering the world; do they?” Dry, crackly, a voice that had smoked a thousand packs and then some. Familiar, far more to the demon than me at this point. His face grew grey, a furious glare shot over his shoulder as he turned to face Lydia Wynne, my mother. “Typically, if you have power, people find you. Trust me, I have a stack of letters on my desk to prove it.”

The demon shrank its neck sinking back into its body, limbs shortening; but it did not back down. Blindly, it reached forward, hands desperate to grab me, to grab onto anything. I stumbled back to avoid his fingers, grimacing as I fell back, crashing against Leo’s lap, his black eyes flying open in response, small splatters of blood escaping his lips. The Bright side, Leo was awake; the dark side?

The man stumbled blindly into the closet, hands reaching, searching for my skin. A shower of sparks shot to the left of him, expert wandwork turning the edge of a shelf into silver shards. Limbs ebbed and flowed with his ministrations as the man reached forward, desperately seeking purchase on my skin.

A particularly well-placed lunge fell near me, but just when it seemed that he would grab me, I was yanked out of the way, a male body blocking the path as breaths sputtered from Leo’s lips. His arms to either side of me, back angled protectively around me, Leo spoke through panting lips, “and what’s a witch like you doing here?” The joke was not well received considering the circumstances, but still my lips couldn’t help but move up into just the smallest of smiles.

Another shower of sparks, I didn’t have the time to relish in his eyes finally being open, his breathing steady beneath my hands. No, I jerked him downward and out of the way, flinching as I landed on my back and a blast of purple just narrowly missed his ear. “Lyra,” a harsh voice yelled from the doorway, “either get out a wand or get out of the way!”

My mother, with her ink-stained greys, dark purple lipstick, and ruby glasses stood in the doorway, a vision in the night if I ever saw one. The scarf long since ripped out of her hair, her stance as wide as her skirt would let her stand, and her nostrils flared. She was fury embodied; the woman scorned. Tired, fed up, and determined to give comeuppance; my mother was all that and more. In her hand, just like many years prior, a soft, dented sandalwood wand, constantly moving through the air with expert motion.

“I swear,” she spat at my gaping, “children these days, utterly useless.” Another harsh motion, the weight of her actions dragging down the tip of her wand, she heaved a blow forward, a ball of red hitting the ceiling. “Stay. Still.” She growled at the beast, her arm raising above her head as the being began to shift once more, arms rearranging and skin bubbling in front of us.

Her arm rose once more, movements slower, heavier; The beast shifted, mouth distending, stretching further and further under the skin on its face grew taunt. It moved, head leering forward, body just barely balancing atop now inverted knees, skittering back and forth, a shifting eye that had drifted out of place frantically blinking before it made its mark.

Another fling, the sparks just barely hit, the beast shrieking in pain as its labored gasps echoed against the wall. Pulsing flesh turned to char, then shrank smaller again, a small hint of black, papery skin being the only memory remaining.

But it was not done. After a moment, it began to grow again. The head reared back, teeth bared and seemingly endless as the little light that came in through the doorway reflected upon pointed rows after pointed rows. Leo’s arms tightened, his body shifting more, covering me as his eyes clenched shut. An unbalanced skitter backwards, the head flopping freely, and then it moved forward once more. Eyes shut, corners of his mouth pointing to the heavens; an unconscious scream left my body as its head swung forward, my hands clutching tightly to Leo, dragging him downward with me, sinking into the corner of the closet, tears finally beginning to fall.

27

The End

My wand ripped out of my jeans before I could even begin to think, my shaking hand wrapped around the handle so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The tip of the wand just barely brushed against his teeth as the monster missed, the weight of his head bearing so heavily down on my wand that the wood began to splinter in my hand. Above me, Leo froze, his arms clutching me tightly to his chest, his eyes shut tightly and head buried in my shoulder, waiting for the end.

Somewhere off in the distance my mother was screaming, her voice bouncing across the room, but the words never forming in my mind. It could have been my name, a warning, anything; it didn’t matter. She was so far from me, too far to do anything.

Time seemed to stop, Leo’s breath slowing against my chest, the demon not lurching any closer, and my mother still standing still. I stared into the abyss, the endless darkness of his mouth. No words came, not then. The world could have carried on around me, could have reverted to normal then; but still no words would come.

The end. That’s what this could be, but for me or him, I couldn’t know.

A whisper, a voice that wasn’t mine knowing just what to do, exactly the words to say to make the world come back to life.

And when it came, it came roaring.

“Lyra!” Desperation