How It Will Be by T. S. Joyce

Chapter Four

 

She hated him?

Bron lifted his fist to knock on his bedroom door, but changed his mind. Ren was inside talking on the phone. He could hear her whole conversation.

She was talking to one of the lowest ranking members of the first Murder she’d ever pledged to. She kept calling him Mikey.

“…yeah, and I think the Bane Brothers are protecting them, too. Yeah, it’s just two crows left in the Murder right now. Krome. Krome’s the King. That’s what I thought too…”

Bron should make her a present.

He did an about-face and padded into the kitchen. Maybe she was hungry. Krome fed Cora when she was grumpy, so maybe if he fed Ren, she would hate him less.

Hate. He’d never before heard that word aimed at him, and it sat in his gut like acid-soaked concrete.

Food might help.

Here were a few things about female Crow Blooded. One, they were rare and prized possessions in a Murder. Two, they weren’t treated awesome sometimes. There was this asshole mentality that they should be seen and not heard. That they should be demure, quiet, and ladylike—three words that had never described Ren. Three, females tended to get stuck in a cycle of being traded from Murder to Murder. The fact that Ren was here without an escort said she was in between Murders, and that had his curiosity up at tree-height. Last he’d heard, she’d been traded to Manning’s Murder up near Seattle. She was a long way from home if she was still pledged to them.

What did girls eat? Pickles and ice cream? He had neither of those, but he did have avocados, and avocados made the most delicious side-dish in the universe—Guacamole. Yup. Guacamole would make her hate him less.

Why did he have all this nervous energy? He’d never been nervous around Ren before. She was like a little sister to him.

Ren didn’t know it, but he’d followed her life. It was innocent, really. Just checking up on a girl he grew up with. He’d asked around about Ren and figured out each Murder she was in and for how long. She didn’t stay with any of them for very long. She had been passed through so many Murders, she probably knew most of the Crow Blooded, and that’s how she’d gotten good at leaking information. She had access and phone numbers, and the knowledge of which ones talked. Rumors seemed to come easy when she knew which crows had loose beaks.

Part of him was proud of her, that she hadn’t cowered and changed and fit herself into the mold to keep a Murder. Her sass probably got her traded a lot. He gave a private smile. He’d always liked the fire in her. She’d always been able to give him and Laken just as much shit as they’d dished out to her. She’d been this pixie-sized, flat-chested spitfire. A foul-mouthed, baggy T-shirt wearing tomboy Laken had always tried to shake off when they hung out together. They’d called her Barnacle when she was a kid because she never left them alone. Bron hadn’t minded, but Laken really had. Jealousy probably. Ren was born a girl, and special, and Laken hadn’t liked watching people fawn over his sister. He liked the attention more. Ren had been uncomfortable with it.

He cut up avocados and diced some tomatoes. Squeezing some lemon over the cubed avocado sprinkled with salt and pepper, he mashed it with a fork and then folded in the tomatoes. An entire bag of tortilla chips dumped into his favorite popcorn bowl later, and he felt more confident knocking on the door. Now he had a reason to bother her.

He realized there was more to it as she called out, “Come in,” and his heart went to hammering in his chest. He had been looking for an excuse to just be around her. Every instinct inside of him said, “fuck that door between us,” and made him want it open.

She was so different now.

Ren had the phone up to her ear and locked her big blue eyes on the tray of snacks. I don’t like avocados, she mouthed.

Shit.

She grinned. Just kidding, you should see your face, you look so dumb.

Relief flooded him and he bit back a chuckle so whoever she had on the phone wouldn’t hear him.

Bron pulled a wad of money for her fee, held it up to her and set it on the tray. She gave him a wink as she talked on the phone. But before she shoved it into her back pocket, she counted out some of the bills and handed part of the fee back to him. “It’s really only eight-hundred,” she whispered, and then at normal volume, she said into the phone, “Uh huh, oh God I remember that night. And we were talking about how stupid it was for the Crow Blooded to be so scared of them, and now lookey here. Krome has formed an alliance with the bears. That’s a lot of raw power he has on his side now. Wonder why no one else thought of this before…”

He busied himself with cleaning the room while she talked. Until she kicked him out, he was going to find excuses to be close to her. He didn’t know why, but she made the brokenness inside of him feel a little less important. He could breathe easier right now, but maybe it was because she was a beautiful distraction. If he thought of ways to make her hate him less, he wasn’t thinking about what had happened, or the pain in his still-healing body, or the motherfuckin’ nightmares of falling that kept him from sleeping, or the worry over where they would find Murder numbers fast enough to protect him and Krome. Oh shit, he was thinking too much again.

“…I think Moore Bane’s number is still just two. His parents. And Aux and Brick are still at zero. For now, yeah. They’ll turn at some point but for now they’re not on the hunt as far as I’ve heard.” She was looking down at the notes sheet they’d come up with. Talking points depending on what would interest which friends she’d accumulated in which Murder. Her black hair had been cut short, and she had a bright pink streak of hair in her ear-length bangs she kept swept over her forehead. Laken used to make fun of her for having a big forehead, but Bron didn’t think it looked big. It was perfect, and her haircut was really different than the long curls she used to wear. This was kinda sexy. It made her look like a little badass, especially with all that dark make-up around her bright blue eyes. She was a stunner. Crow Blooded were all supposed to have pitch black eyes, but she had blue ones. And a little turned-up nose with a hoop in it. She had matching tiny hoops in her earlobes. Her lips were full, and she wasn’t so flat-chested or tomboyish anymore. Ren wore a pair of skintight jeans and black combat boots that were unlaced at the tops. The tops of a pair of red socks showed over her jeans, and they matched the red tank top she wore. Her arms were toned, and on the back of her left one there was a faded set of tattoos. He recognized two of them. One was of her family crest and another was a logo the Baltimore Murder used. Did her previous Murders make her get tattooed when she pledged? He didn’t like that thought.

She said goodbye and hung up the phone, and he stopped folding the stack of clean T-shirts he’d tossed onto the chair in the corner to point to her arm. “Gray wash tattoos?”

Ren’s eyes went wide for a moment with confusion, and then she grabbed her arm and pulled the muscle there to look at the tattoos. “They used to be black, but I’ve been doing tattoo removal. I’m two sessions in and they’re already fading.”

“You don’t want them anymore?” he asked carefully.

“I don’t want anyone’s claiming mark on me anymore,” she murmured softly. “I just want to belong to me.”

Bron busied himself with straightening the corner of his comforter. “Why did you get them in the first place?”

She shook her head back and forth, back and forth, a faraway look in her pretty blue eyes. “They said that’s what I should do, so I did it.” She blinked and lifted that crystal clear gaze to his. “I wanted to be a good crow. I wanted to stay in one place. Things were so simple when we were kids. Live with mom and dad, free food, warm bed at night, protection. And then ya turn eighteen and you want to stretch your wings and find your place in the world, and I had to learn that it isn’t so easy for female crows to land in the spot they’re supposed to be.”

Bron’s chest hurt, but he didn’t understand the reason. Her words were hollowing him out. “Why didn’t you settle in a Murder?”

“Because I didn’t fit. All the reasons were different, too. The first one, the Second wanted to claim me as soon as I moved there. The King said he had to wait until I was at least twenty, so he watched and stalked and hovered and chased away anyone I wanted to talk to for two years. I left the morning of my twentieth birthday. The second Murder was up in the Rockies. King was a drinker and liked to show me off at the bars. Show me off, and fight anyone who looked at me. I felt like some kind of bait for him to work through his issues. Next up, the King wanted to try for a baby within two months of me pledging. Didn’t want me, just the baby. Pledge, pledge pledge, pledge. You know the more you move, the easier it gets? My last Murder, I really tried. I was so tired of moving and just went numb and wanted to just breathe in a place for a while. I stayed for two years, and hated every single day of it.”

“What made you finally leave?” he asked.

“A really big red flag.”

“What was the red flag?”

“The way the king treated his mate.”

Bron swallowed hard. He didn’t like men mistreating women. “What did he do?”

“He was abusive. Hit her. I saw the bruises and the black eyes, and she wouldn’t ever admit what he was doing to her. I finally saw it for myself one night when he smacked her at the dinner table, in front of the entire Murder. When I stuck up for her, he smacked me, too. Just…backhanded me without any hesitation.”

“Name.”

“What?”

Bron clenched his jaw hard and demanded softly, “What. Is. His. Name?”

“Oh, you don’t have to get riled up on my behalf. My face is very tough. Besides, I got him back on my way out.”

“What did you do?”

“I stole his mother’s amulet that he was going to give his mate as her wedding present.” She pulled a silver chain from where it was hidden in her cleavage under the red tank top. A large green gem shone, and there was a family crest etched under it. He could only see it at certain angles in the light as she let it dangle in front of him, but it was enough.

“You know how we Crow Blooded love our traditions,” she said as she lowered it back into place under her shirt.

Some of the fire died out in Bron’s soul, and he unclenched his fists on his thighs. “Tradition says if you lose the wedding present you intend to give, it’s a sign you aren’t supposed to be with that person.”

The grin that stretched Ren’s face lit up the whole room. “I saved me and that poor girl some heartache in that Murder.”

“I bet he’s pissed and looking for you.”

Ren shrugged. “Maybe. I’m very fast and hard to catch though. Plus look where I am. You and Krome allied with the bears. Who in their right mind is trying to be around you guys right now?”

Bron’s phone rang in his back pocket, and he frowned at the unknown number on the caller ID. “Hello?” he answered.

“Is this the Second?”

“Uuuuuh—”

“Second to Krome,” the man growled through the phone.

“Yes. This is Bron.”

“When do the fights start?”

“What fights?”

“For pledge applications.” A long, predatory snarl rattled out of the man’s throat.

“I guess we start taking applications tomorrow.”

“See you then.”

The line went dead and Bron stared at the phone screen as it went black. “I don’t think that man was a crow shifter. He sounded like a big cat.”

“Ha ha,” Ren brayed. “I told you those rumors are going to ruin you, but hey, you just paid me a stupid amount of money, so I’ll get the word out. Speaking of, I have some texts to send into the atmosphere.” She dipped a chip and scooped guacamole. “Whoa, Bron! You can cook guacamole!”

“I don’t think you really cook guac—”

“You’re like a chef now,” she said with a full mouth. “Are you really going to make these delinquents fight to pledge to Krome’s Murder?” She scooped another heaping chip and groaned as she chewed this one. God, she was so animated with every word. Her eyes were full of life and spark, and her lips curved so easily in and out of smiles. He’d missed her energy.

“I honestly don’t know. I didn’t know you would work so fast.”

“It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s gotta do it.” She scooped another blob and offered him the chip.

Bron hesitated. Wait, she was sharing food with him. This felt intimate. She wiggled the chip, and the meaning was clear. Peck, peck, little bird, before I eat this entire bowl.

Why was his heart pounding this hard? He leaned down and snagged the bite gently from her fingertips, and she watched him chew as he leaned back and gave her space.

“Do you remember my grandpa’s funeral?” she asked.

He was shocked by the question and took a few moments to answer as memories bombarded him. Ray Tobias was a good crow.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Do you remember when you gave me that beer out by your truck when I couldn’t stand to be in there with everyone anymore?”

He huffed a chuckle. Actually, he hadn’t thought about that for years. He’d forgotten all about it. “Yes. I had escaped the crowd five minutes before you did. Had a cooler in the back of my truck full of iced down beers because I knew it was going to be a long day for Laken. When I heard the front door creak open, I thought for sure it was him. He always hated crowds. But it was you.” The memory socked him in the gut and he laid on the bed, stared up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan as he recalled. “You were wearing this little green dress.”

“Green was Pop’s favorite color.”

“And you came out of there looking wrecked. Just…tears making tracks through your make-up, and you looked up at me and I realized I had never seen you vulnerable before.” He grinned. “Prickly, misbehaved, territorial, abrasive, mouthy, and ill-mannered, yes, but never vulnerable.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Thanks a lot. I remember I came out of the funeral home, and you were standing there looking clean in your navy-blue suit with your slicked back hair and your cheeks were red like you’d been crying, too. And you didn’t say anything. You just gestured for me to come to you and you held your arms out. You hugged me and I fell apart and ruined your suit jacket with my tear stains. And then you patted me on the back and took me by the hand to your old shitty truck, and you gave me a beer. It was the first beer I ever had. And to this day, it was the cheapest beer I have ever had.”

“It was the beer of champions and I think you missed the part where you meant to say ‘thank you.’”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“Why?”

“Because you gave me moments like those, and you made me feel safe, and then you let me make my way through every Murder in North America alone. You never checked up on me once. And I guess I get it. I was just your best friend’s dumb little tagalong sister, but I always looked up to the two of you. And then I was just…on my own. And you kept each other, and I guess I’m mad that you made me feel like I don’t matter.”

“You didn’t message me either.”

“Yes, I did. I sent you letters. You never wrote back.”

He didn’t understand. Bron rested his hand on his stomach and watched her face, waiting for a punchline that never came. “I didn’t get a letter.”

“I sent them to you and Laken.”

An awful feeling took Bron’s entire chest cavity. An awful, hollow feeling. Would Laken have thrown those letters away? After his falling out with Ren? Would he have just thrown them away? Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have imagined it. Wouldn’t have believed it, but now? Laken had dropped him from the sky to die.

Laken was capable of anything.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she murmured. Ren gave her back to him and began typing into her phone.

“It matters to me.” Bron brushed his fingertip on her shoulder. “I didn’t like when you said you hated me.”

“I’m just your former friend’s sister, Bron. You’ll get over it.”

He hated it. Hated her dismissiveness. Hated how easily she tossed her importance away. Didn’t she realize how special she was?

“I know who you stole the amulet from.”

She froze mid-text, and then set the phone beside her on the bed. Her phone screen was blowing up with text messages. Two of them mentioned the Bane brothers. He didn’t mean to read them—they just came through at a glance.

“What are you going to do about it, Bron? You gonna sic your bears on Manning?”

Bron gifted her a feral smile. Oh, Ren. She didn’t know the side of him that had been born in the rank wars for Krome’s Murder. She didn’t realize the side of him that had been fostered through the battle with the bears, or Laken’s coup. She didn’t understand the ghost crow that had been conjured when his friend killed the good parts of Bron. She only remembered Bron before he moved his way to Second in a volatile War-Bird Murder. Back when life was easy and everything was simple and made sense. “I don’t need the bears, Ren. They are just a bonus.”

“Mmm hmm, well those bears will get you killed.”

“Will you miss me?” He didn’t know why he’d asked that, and he sure as hell didn’t know why her answer meant so damn much to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said cheekily. There was a flash of flirtatiousness in her sky-blue eyes.

“Stay the night.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I’m better than a one-night stand, Bron.”

Surprised, he let off a single laugh. “Woman, I’m not trying to seduce you. I want you to meet someone.”

“Krome? No thanks. He kept my brother as his Second for years. I know all I need to know about a King like that.”

“You really don’t. He has a human mate.”

Her dark eyebrows arched up prettily. “Excuse me?”

“Yep. She’s a human and she’s an avian surgeon. He got a doctor for the Murder.”

Ren snorted. “Your Murder of two?”

“And the bears. Tomorrow there will be more.”

Ren turned all the way toward him and pulled her leg up onto the bed. “The bears aren’t in your Murder. They are violent and untrustworthy and will eat you the second they get a chance. Don’t let your guard down around them, Bron. You’re smarter than that.”

“Stay,” he dared her. “Stay for the pledge fights. Help Krome and I choose.”

“Choose from the one psycho who wants to link up with a bear shifter alliance? As fun as that sounds—”

“What are you scared of?” Oh, he knew he was baiting her. He’d used this tactic countless times when they were younger.

“Nothing scares me,” she ground out.

“Prove it. Stay one day. Rest. Breathe. Stop running. Just stick around and see if tomorrow ends up being the shit show you expect, or not.”

Ren looked around his room and he could see it—she was actually considering it.

“I’ll make you all the guacamole you want,” he said, sweetening the deal.

Her eyebrows arched up a little bit higher. “No strings attached?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m still me. Your virtue is superfuckingsafe.”

“Well, that’s a rude way to put it.” She crossed her arms over her perky little boobs and narrowed her eyes at him. “Where will I sleep?”

“In my bed.”

“Be serious, Bron,” she griped.

“I am serious! You sleep in here and I’ll take the couch. You can go on my shift with me in the morning and see what I do for my side job.”

She cocked her head. “You do have me curious about the human mate.”

“Her name is Cora, and she’s awesome.”

Ren lifted her chin higher and looked down her little pixie nose at him, then stuck her hand out for a shake. “One day, no strings attached.”

He shook her hand, and marveled at how petite and soft it was in his. “You can get your tattoo of my crest tomorrow.”

She gasped and yanked her hand from him.

“I’m kidding! Kidding!” He laughed as she swatted him in the arm.

When he looked up at her, she was smiling and his heart stuttered. She was a stunner now. No wonder all the other Murders wanted her.

“You can rest easy tonight and no one will mess with you,” he promised.

“Just annoy me,” she said around the cutest damn giggle that had ever touched his ears.

“I’m only staying to watch you get your ass beat by the new pledge.”

Bron’s phone vibrated, and he checked the glowing screen. “Pledges,” he corrected. “Someone named Amos is asking when pledge applications start.”

“Amos Henry?” she asked behind a thin-lipped smile.

“I dunno. He just signed it ‘Famous Amos.’”

She brayed and snorted to end the laugh. “This Murder is going to be so fucked up.”

She stood and walked out of his room, chips and guacamole in hand.

“Wait, who is Amos?” he called after her.

“Oh, you’ll see.”