Of Wolves, Ravens, and Writing Desks - Chapter 3 Lucy Lost

*** Nightmares about The Crate are always the worst. Flashes of the beatings, the agony of starving, the shivering nights in winter where all we had was a single thin blanket.

That place was Abyss. ***

I jolt awake, my nightmare came to a peak and I decided not to stick around for it. I’m in a room I’ve never been in before. The walls are unpainted wood panel, the first wall I see has a pretty big shelf overflowing with stacked books. I’m lying next to the far wall from that, I look up, a standing coat rack with a denim summer jacket and a messenger cap looms over me with blood bags.

Wait…Blood bags! I follow the line down, its going into my right arm, with the opposite hand I reach up and check my neck, pretty torn up, but stitched and bandaged. I now scan more quickly. The room is a large rectangle, with a half circle alcove on the far end, with a large circular reading window. The woman from last night sits in the sunlight, reading a book, wearing jean shorts and a loose fitting gray long sleeve shirt. Her legs have various tattoos, animals, high gothic art, strange maze-like patterns. But the one that catches my eye the most; a raven holding a fountain pen in its beak, perched upon a wolf skull in side profile, stacked on top of a thick book, with a flowing banner that says ‘why is a raven like a writing desk?’ that’s…peculiar.

I inhale and there’s no smell of rot, so she’s obviously not a Cold-One, but there isn’t a human scent either… Plus she carried me in here…

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on eating you,” she says plainly, never taking her eyes off the book.

“Then why am I here?” I ask, now highly aware of the situation, adrenaline shaking off all fatigue or fogginess.

Her book snaps shut with a delicate and fluid motion of her hand, and her head gracefully turns to stare at me with a frosty and piercing gaze. “Why did you save me?” She counters.

I avert my eyes to scan the room more, “didn’t realize you were a blood sucker,” I say as I take stock of the rest of the room. A saxophone on its stand, a small string harp, a well-stocked liquor cabinet, and perched on a potted tree, one of the biggest damn ravens I’ve ever seen. For a moment I think it might be stuffed, but then it blinks and adjusts its gaze slightly, still firmly on me.

“You know, we don’t exactly appreciate that term,” she says coolly.

“We don’t exactly appreciate being eaten,” I counter with an edge to my voice.

She looks away from me now, a look of thoughtfulness on her face. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

My eyes keep scanning, there is silence for a moment and she returns to her book. Then; “the door is right there,” she points, “your welcome to leave,” she finishes.

I follow her finger to a small hallway about half down the wall between me and her. “Just like that?” I ask.

“Like what? Exactly?” She asks, a puzzled expression, but still looking at her book.

“You’re not asking anything from me? Keeping me as a walking snack? You’re just letting me go?”

She looks over at me again, “You lycans always think this way. ‘They’re a vampire, so they want to devour me, or use me as a pawn in some scheme.’ Sorry to disappoint you, I have no interest in you what so ever, you saved me, so I returned the favor, I will stop thinking about you when you leave, and likely never think of you again…unless something involuntarily reminds me I suppose,” she waves a hand in dismissal of her own proposed notion, by Lycanos I hate these prissy parasites.

I sit up and pull the needle from my arm, before standing and moving cautiously to the door. The raven watches me, but the vampires eyes are glued to her book, the title catches my eye ‘pursuing lost comfort; fables & other beasts’ I back into the hallway, and then turn to quickly stride out through the door.

I exit into the top of a stairwell and immediately begin descending, taking the stairs two at a time. Five floors down, I find a thick hardwood door that leads out onto the street. I glance around and recognize the area, this is about a fifteen minute walk from where I found her last night.

Shit! Lucy!

I don’t dare change until I heal a bit more. So I take off running in human form. But when I arrive in front of the derelict hemoplant. Lucy and the side car are gone. “Fuck!” I scream.

I don’t want to deal with the vampire, but I have to ask if she has any clue what happened to my bike. If I come home without it, I’ll have to fight Ekkert to the death.

I climb back up the stairs, now panting from sprinting to the plant and back. I knock loudly on the door, she answers a few seconds later. “Oh, an involuntary reminder, imagine that.” She says without emotion.

“Do you know what happened to my bike?”

“No,” she replies plainly.

“And you didn’t think to maybe grab the keys before you brought me here?” I ask, anger creeping into my voice.

She looks positively bored, “you were on the clock, and it was counting in seconds not hours, if I had stopped for anything, you could have died. I will remember next time that you value a machine over your own life.”

“God dammit!” I shout, then punch a hole in the wall.

She looks at the hole, a hint of irritation on her face, I hear her sigh loudly as I turn and leave, then her door closes as I race down the stairs.

I run back to the plant, and begin looking around for clues, and seeing if I can catch a scent. The sun is slowly burning away the bodies of the Cold-Ones, people passing by ignore them and me as I look around. After a minute I find tracks, and I begin following them. I run as fast as I can for two hours straight, following the tire tracks to a house with an attached garage. The tire tracks lead straight into the garage. I hear music and voices from inside. I pound on the garage door, “Hey open up!” I shout.

The voices stop, after about ten seconds I am about to slam on the door again, when it creaks and groans and begins to rise. I stand there, fists curled, but when it clears my eyes, five guys with various guns are standing there, ready to reduce me to red paste. My eyes go wide and I slowly raise my hands.

“The fuck do you want asshole?” the one in front says, an old grizzled ripcord of a man, wearing nothing but jeans, boots, and an old militia cap. A drum fed shotgun pointed at me.

I point a finger, and say in a very calm voice, “That’s my bike, I want it back,” they all glance over at my bike which is parked in the corner. Then they glance between themselves, and start laughing.

“Can you believe this stupid little shit?” one of them says.

“Pups got balls ya gotta give em that!” Another cries.

They all laugh in fits for a few moments more, then the leader says, “tell ya what, you turn around and wag yer ass like a good lil’ pup as you go, and we won’t pump ya full of lead? How’s that sound?”

I swallow, glare at them, and for some reason, I can’t resist saying, “yea I bet you’d like to pump me wouldn’t ya? Nasty old fucks,” The guns which had lowered during the laughter, slowly rise back up.

“The fouck did you just say to me?” The leader says.

“I said what I said,” Well, it was a nice life. Hopefully I go to Lycanos’ fields of paradise and not the Abyss.

“Ha! The balls on this one! Any last words ya miserable shite?”

I glance up as I briefly contemplate, shrugging my shoulders I say, “Chan eil gèidh ann an Èirinn.”

For a moment, they don’t say anything, they just stare at me, looking totally confused or surprised, then, one of them in the back says, “Wait a fouckin second, I recognize ye, your Willy Greenthumb ain’t che? Yer Ekkert’s boy!” He says enthusiastically.

“Yes?” I say, confused about what’s now happening.

They all breakout in a mix of laughter and excited shouting,

“Oh fouckin Abyss that coulda been bad!”

“Thank Lycanos we gave em is last words eh?”

“I’m gettin’ to ol’ for this kinda shite!”

Then the leader walks over and pats me on the shoulder, his gun dangling at his side, “Sorry about this whole thing lad, take Lucy and tell Ekkert it was all in good fun aye?” He reaches into his pocket and grabs the key, handing it to me.

“Uh…Yea, sure…” I respond.

“Good lad! Good lad!” he says with a smiling face and cheery voice. Then I walk over to Lucy and look around for my jacket, my eyes briefly land on some white boards on the far wall, they seem to be detailing some kind of plan, my quick scan finds the words ‘secondary detonation’ next to a fairly detailed drawing, nope don’t want to mess with that. I keep looking around before realizing one of them is wearing my jacket, I stare at him, for a second, then he notices me leering “oh! Oh my bad Greenthumb, here ye go!” He says handing me my jacket. I quickly throw it into the side car and hop on Lucy, trying to get her started.

“She’s outta gas there, Greenthumb,” The leader says.

I sigh, frustrated, “of course she is,” I step off, and turn her around before walking her out. They all laugh and shout after me, friendly goodbyes and well wishes for Ekkert. Seriously, how in Abyss do these assholes know Ekkert?

I spend the next hour walking Lucy to a fuel station, I cannot wait until I get that fusion engine installed. No more fuel issues ever again.

As I put the nozzle away I look up at the sun, I’ve just about missed my whole damn shift. Ekkert is gonna kill me. I hear a caw, and my head spins to see a murder of crows perched on some buildings and electrical wires across the road. I’m reminded of that vampire, and her pet raven.

“Why is a raven like a writing desk…” I mutter as I stare at the black birds. Then I shake my head and hop on Lucy, “fouckin nonsense,” I mutter as I rev up and speed off.

I make it back to Ekkert’s place just in time for the overflowing lunch tickets to be fucking up the dinner rush. The place is absolutely packed with waiting patrons. I practically run back to the kitchen, Ekkert looks concerned when he sees the bandages all over my neck, “I’ll tell ya at close,” I say as I pass. In the kitchen Ron is working as fast as he can, when he sees me come in, he stops and throws his hands up in exasperation, “What gives kid?”

“Sorry Ron, was busy almost dying.” I inform him flat out.

“Oh, well at least it was nothing serious.” He says in a more concerned tone, “What happened?”

“Some deadboys were harassing this girl, I stopped to help and they almost got me, woke up in her apartment, turns out she was a vampire too.”

“Damn that’s bad luck, at least she didn’t eat ya, that’s nothing short of a fouckin miracle.”

“Yea…” I trail off, thinking about what she said, “A miracle…” I mutter to myself as I begin searing some steaks.

After about three hours in the kitchen, and about one hundred tips and lessons on the finer points of cooking, I have the tickets caught up, and the dinner rush is slowing down. I make myself a plate of chow, and depart out the back to enjoy the cooler air outside that blistering kitchen.

“Caw” “caw”

“CAW” “caw” “caw”

I look up from my plate, it seems that murder of crows followed me home… “That’s a bit strange,” I say aloud. I finish my plate, contemplating the crows. They flitter about occasionally changing perch, or landing to peck around for a worm. I get a wild impulse, and see no reason not to indulge it. So I go inside, and grab the kitchens scrap bucket, then toss it out for the crows, at first they hesitate, but when I walk back to the steps and sit down, one or two intrepid scavengers come pecking over. Shortly after, dozens of crows are all gathered over the pile of scraps.

My mind wanders as I watch them enjoy their feast. Why did she save me? I’m a lycan, she’s a vampire. I saved her cause I thought she was a defenseless human, or maybe some cowardly lycan. But she knew what I was, and still she saved me… ‘you saved me, so I returned the favor’ Could it really be that simple? Never heard of a vampire with common decency.

Then again, have I ever really known a vampire? My scar starts to itch, and I idly reach up and scratch the last wound that almost killed me. “I’m losing my mind,” I reach up and scratch my head, before standing and heading to the basement, where a hot shower and bed awaits.

I take my sweet time in the shower, letting the heat sink into my aching body. I continue to ponder the past fifteen or so hours, and still I’m hung up on; “why is a raven like a writing desk?” By the time I step out, I almost feel normal, except for the massive collection of stiches. I grab a pair of snips from the counter and begin removing the ones from The Cages that have sealed up, but some still need more time. When I’m done, I glance in the mirror, my body is covered in wounds, soon to be more scars. Good thing my plans don’t include any beauty contests.