Raven: Reawakening by Mitchell Hogan

Author:Mitchell Hogan [Hogan, Mitchell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crucible Press
Published: 2021-08-10T04:00:00+00:00

The Little Banshee was on the second floor above a moneylender’s, and had an outdoor seating area on a bridge that spanned a side street to a building opposite. The patrons sitting there seemed to take delight in observing the comings and goings along the main street, shouting and waving to their friends. It was hardly a discreet place to meet.

Raven made her customary circuit of the streets around the establishment. On one corner, a vendor sold different types of nuts and another hawked woven baskets, while the lane behind the building was seedier, with a few prostitutes and a thin, short man who offered her cravv. She couldn’t make out any obvious threats, but there was a lot of activity and it was a nightmare to memorize everyone she came across. She didn’t see any suspicious carriages or traps waiting in the street though, and there were no loiterers—apart from the occasional street urchin.

She bought a waxed-paper bag of salted swamp-nuts and scrutinized the café’s building while she leaned against a wall to eat them and exchange pleasantries with the woman vendor. The café’s second-floor location and its openness to the bridge was a recipe for disaster. Anyone could loose a crossbow bolt from a window across the street, with ample time to get away.

She imagined the name of the café was someone’s idea of a joke. If they ever met a real banshee in the wilderness, they would piss themselves with fear. Raven had stumbled across one once, and had no desire to repeat the experience. She’d only escaped by throwing herself into a freezing river swollen with snowmelt, and the banshee’s hideously alluring wail still haunted her dreams.

She handed the now-empty bag back to the nut-seller to be reused and, satisfied the café wasn’t under surveillance, ascended the narrow stairs and requested a table away from the windows. When a server placed a glass of water on her table, she ordered a hot pea and roasted cricket soup, and took a deep breath. She’d waited more than four years to meet Scorpion again, and the circumstances couldn’t have been worse.

She didn’t have to wait much longer. As her soup arrived, she looked up to thank the server and found herself staring into Scorpion’s homely face. Something sharp was sticking into her side.

He hooked a chair with his foot and dragged it closer. When he sat, the knife he held to her skin remained a constant threat.

“Eat your soup,” he said. “We’re having a pleasant conversation.”

Other than his ashen and drawn appearance, and the roughness of his voice—obvious effects of the poison—he looked the same as always. He might have stepped straight out of her memories. He wore loose brown pants and shirt, and sweat beaded his brow even inside the cool café—but he was the same Scorpion she’d slept with a week before she’d faked her own death and escaped the Grim Hand.

“It’s good to see you, too,” she said. “After all these years, don’t I get a welcoming kiss?”

“That depends.

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