Velvet Haven

existence. And at last he had found a way.
    Mairi had the book of the prophecy. She could interpret it, the Scribe’s coded message. A flame and an amulet and a divine trinity, which would lead the way to both artifacts.
    He didn’t give a shit about the amulet. He wanted the flame. Which meant, of course, that once he delivered Mairi over to the raven, his connection to the Sidhe king was not over. To find redemption, Suriel knew, meant discovering the identity of the Destroyer and obliterating him from both Annwyn and Earth.
    But first he must unite with the king of Annwyn, meshing both their worlds to one single purpose: uncover the identity of the Dark Mage, and destroy his apprentice.
    Only then would God welcome him back home.

    After tucking Rowan into her bed, Mairi went in search of her dog’s old crate. She needed something to put the bird in.
    “That’s enough,” Mairi snapped, tugging on Clancy’s collar. “You don’t have to show your teeth; believe me, the birdie knows who’s boss.”
    Her huge Irish wolfhound gave a throaty snarl, his long canines bared, staring at the bird, who was standing on her kitchen counter proudly, as if egging Clancy on.
    “You must have a death wish,” she muttered, scooting the bird farther back on the counter. “He can reach up here, you know. Just look away and show him you know he’s in charge and he’ll go lie down.”
    The bird cocked its head to the side and studied her. His eyes actually looked as though they narrowed at the insinuation that Clancy was top dog.
    “Fine, then, become the midnight snack,” she griped as she left them to duke it out.
    She found the old crate in a closet and wandered back to the kitchen with it. The metal box crashed to the floor, clanging on the ceramic tiles, as she took in the scene before her. Clancy was sitting on his haunches, ears back almost flat against his head. One paw was extended as he whimpered in supplication at the bird’s feet.
    What the hell?
    The bird watched Clancy, its head high, its gaze fixed on her dog as if it were trying to teach it some manners. Whatever was going on, Clancy was suddenly as submissive as a lamb.
    The bird cawed quietly and Clancy dropped his paw before slinking out of the kitchen, tail between his legs.
    Picking up the crate, Mairi set it down beside the kitchen table. Then she reached for a bowl, filled it with some tepid water and an ounce of rubbing alcohol, and reached for a cloth.
    As she gently wiped away the dried blood on the bird’s wing, Clancy whimpered behind her. Nothing cowed Clancy! The bird must have pecked at his eyes! Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Clancy whimpered once more, then slowly lowered his big body onto the kitchen floor.
    “Wow, what’s up with you tonight?” she teased. But the dog didn’t cock his head while she talked to him as he usually did, but instead stayed totally focused on the bird.
    “Don’t worry, Clance, he’s not going to be a permanent fixture around the place.”
    The bird was stoic as she worked. It watched quietly as she carefully cleaned the wound with the warm water and rubbing alcohol. It didn’t even try to pull away as she poured the solution over its wound, despite the fact she knew it must sting. It was as if it knew she was trying to help, not hurt.
    Winding the white gauze around the mauled appendage, she suddenly noticed the glistening swirl of silver and gold on the fine feathers of its head. “What’s this?” she asked aloud, stroking her fingertip along the marks. “Did you get into some paint?”
    The raven’s eyes closed as she stroked him once more. For a wild bird it certainly was calm. She half expected to have her hand pecked as she tried to bind the wing. But it had stood still and quiet, letting her work.
    “There,” she said, pulling away. “Now in the crate you go.” It squawked, trying to fly away from her, but she resisted the flapping good wing and shoved him into the crate. “Sorry, but it’ll have to do for tonight.”
    The door slammed shut and Mairi clicked the latch into place. She had no idea what else to do for the creature. Was it hungry? All she had was canned dog food and Milk- Bones, neither of which she thought the raven would enjoy.
    “Tomorrow I’ll get you some seed. Sleep tight,” she whispered, gazing into the crate. Man, she was beat. When she bent down to look at the bird she actually thought it had Bran’s mismatched eyes.
    Yep. Exhausted. It was