Obsidian Wings by Laken Cane

Author:Laken Cane [Cane, Laken]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Laken Cane
Published: 2014-05-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jack and Owen talked all the way up the mountain, but Rune stayed silent. She stared out her window and watched the scenery flash by.

Too many emotions vied for attention inside her mind, so she shut them all out. Except for the anger. She let that stay.

Her stomach was in knots and she noticed suddenly that she was chewing the inside of her mouth. She stopped.

She was acting like an old lady. A human one.

And she was a monster. “It’s all about attitude,” she murmured.

“What, Rune?” Jack asked.

“Somewhere along the way, I lost myself.”

“Lost your humanity?”

“No. I think I lost part of my monster.”

Owen leaned closer to the front seat. “Then get him the fuck back.”

She grinned. “Count on it, baby.”

When they pulled into the nest, there were two male birds waiting for them. Jack stopped the truck and let down his window, and the birds leaned down to look inside.

Rune’s body stiffened and she dug her nails into her thighs.

The two birds glanced into the backseat at Owen, peered at Rune, then did a double take and backed away from the truck. “You’re to go two miles down this road,” one of them told Jack. “Take the left at Ruined Oaks and go a quarter mile. You’ll know when you’ve reached your destination.”

“Another truck will be coming this way,” Jack said. “Wait for it.”

“All right.” Then he and his friend turned and melted back into the trees lining the road.

“You okay?” Jack asked her, as he drove on.

“Yeah.” She wished people would stop asking her that question.

The male had been right. They knew when they reached their destination. Every bird in the nest was gathered in a clearing off the side of the road.

The birds were noisy, and the atmosphere was similar to that of a county fair. Lawn chairs and blankets dotted the ground, occupied by laughing, chatting people. Birds.

“Freaks,” Jack growled.

The crew climbed from the truck and watched for a moment. They were loaded down with weapons, and not one of them expected the encounter to end well. Not for the birds, anyway.

“Look at that,” Owen said.

Rune shaded her eyes. “What the hell is it?”

A large platform stood around twelve feet off the ground. It held a large, thick pole, from which thin bits of silver gleamed in the sunlight.

“I don’t know,” Owen said.

“Here comes Strad.” Jack glanced at Rune but said nothing more.

The berserker stopped when he was six feet from the truck. He didn’t look at Jack or Owen. His stare was all for Rune.

“They’re waiting for you,” he told her.

“Why?”

“They want to redeem themselves by allowing you to take Cree’s wings.” His eyes were dark but noncommittal, his voice without inflection. His gaze did not waver from hers.

Yet she knew what it cost him.

“They think,” she said, “if they offer me Cree, I’ll let it go.”

“Yes. That’s what they think.” Then he lowered his voice further. “Today is not the day to take them on, Rune.”

He was afraid the birds would kill her. Her.

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