Read Online Night of the Raven by Jenna Ryan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenna Ryan
Ads: Link
Taught you to kick and jab and get your knee up whenever possible. But all punching’ll get you is a fistful of swollen knuckles.”
“Right.” Why was she drawing a blank here? “Would you like some coffee?”
“Coffee is the devil’s brew.”
Strangely, his unyielding attitude relaxed her. “As I recall, you used to tell Nana I was the devil’s spawn. Maybe that’s why I can’t start my day without caffeine.”
“Likely so.”
He hadn’t taken his raven-black eyes off her, hadn’t moved in his seat or altered his expression since she’d come in. Although his stare was designed to intimidate, she held it for five long seconds before skirting the table and reaching for the pot of coffee McVey, bless him, must have brewed earlier.
Lazarus Blume had always been a riveting man, and fifteen years had done nothing to diminish that quality. He might be a little leaner around the cheekbones, but he still made her think of a pilgrim, right down to his plain clothes, his gray-streaked beard and the hair that stuck up in windblown tufts.
Determined to find whatever humor she could in the situation, Amara brought her mug back to where he sat. “There was a raven outside my window this morning, Uncle. He was watching me exactly the way you are now. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were him in human form.”
“And I’d say you were spouting useless Bellam rhetoric to avoid an unpleasant conversation.”
“Which would be an appropriate tactic since I’m a Bellam.”
He thrust himself forward. “You’re a Blume as well, and don’t you forget it.”
“My mother—”
“Gave you the surname that was given to her by her mother. I know how the Bellam family works, Amara. I also know that three people with whom you had a courtroom affiliation in New Orleans are dead, and the man around whom the affiliation revolved likely engineered those deaths from his prison cell.”
“Very likely. Unfortunately no one can prove it.”
“Which is why you’ve come home to Raven’s Hollow.” He turned a thumping fist into an accusing finger when she opened her mouth. “Don’t you dare say this isn’t your home. Your mother grew up and married here, and you spent ten consecutive summers in this house with your grandmother. You’re connected, as we all are, to the first settlers who landed on these shores with the intention of forging better lives for themselves.”
He’d start reciting the Blume family history if she didn’t stop him. So she sat back, let her lips curve and said simply, “I hear you got yourself arrested recently, Uncle. I believe drunk and disorderly was the charge.”
He inhaled sharply through his nose. “I had my reasons.”
Because it wasn’t in Amara’s nature to be cruel, she softened her tone. “I’m sure you did. And you of all people know I’ve done my share of wrong things.” Because it was in her nature, she let mischief bubble up. “Like spy on a friend’s sister’s hot date. Or try to.”
Lazarus gave an approving nod. “Best damn mucking out of stables I ever saw. And now you’re a cosmetic surgeon.”
“Reconstructive surgeon.” Cupping her mug in her palms, she said, “Why did you come here today, Uncle? I know you don’t like me.”
“Don’t like you,” he bellowed, and pounded the table again. “Why, you were the only person, young or old, who ever made me laugh.”
“I did? You did?” Amara frowned. “When?”
“The summer of your fourteenth year, when I punished you for sneaking out of this house. Your grandmother said you put a spell on me.”
Why did the morning suddenly feel completely surreal to her? “I didn’t—well, yes, I did. But I put the spell on your midnight snack, not you.”
He nodded again. “Showed initiative. I appreciate that quality.”
“I think it showed I had a temper, but in any case, the medical side of my brain says your stomach troubles didn’t come from me.”
“It was still a feisty
“Right.” Why was she drawing a blank here? “Would you like some coffee?”
“Coffee is the devil’s brew.”
Strangely, his unyielding attitude relaxed her. “As I recall, you used to tell Nana I was the devil’s spawn. Maybe that’s why I can’t start my day without caffeine.”
“Likely so.”
He hadn’t taken his raven-black eyes off her, hadn’t moved in his seat or altered his expression since she’d come in. Although his stare was designed to intimidate, she held it for five long seconds before skirting the table and reaching for the pot of coffee McVey, bless him, must have brewed earlier.
Lazarus Blume had always been a riveting man, and fifteen years had done nothing to diminish that quality. He might be a little leaner around the cheekbones, but he still made her think of a pilgrim, right down to his plain clothes, his gray-streaked beard and the hair that stuck up in windblown tufts.
Determined to find whatever humor she could in the situation, Amara brought her mug back to where he sat. “There was a raven outside my window this morning, Uncle. He was watching me exactly the way you are now. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were him in human form.”
“And I’d say you were spouting useless Bellam rhetoric to avoid an unpleasant conversation.”
“Which would be an appropriate tactic since I’m a Bellam.”
He thrust himself forward. “You’re a Blume as well, and don’t you forget it.”
“My mother—”
“Gave you the surname that was given to her by her mother. I know how the Bellam family works, Amara. I also know that three people with whom you had a courtroom affiliation in New Orleans are dead, and the man around whom the affiliation revolved likely engineered those deaths from his prison cell.”
“Very likely. Unfortunately no one can prove it.”
“Which is why you’ve come home to Raven’s Hollow.” He turned a thumping fist into an accusing finger when she opened her mouth. “Don’t you dare say this isn’t your home. Your mother grew up and married here, and you spent ten consecutive summers in this house with your grandmother. You’re connected, as we all are, to the first settlers who landed on these shores with the intention of forging better lives for themselves.”
He’d start reciting the Blume family history if she didn’t stop him. So she sat back, let her lips curve and said simply, “I hear you got yourself arrested recently, Uncle. I believe drunk and disorderly was the charge.”
He inhaled sharply through his nose. “I had my reasons.”
Because it wasn’t in Amara’s nature to be cruel, she softened her tone. “I’m sure you did. And you of all people know I’ve done my share of wrong things.” Because it was in her nature, she let mischief bubble up. “Like spy on a friend’s sister’s hot date. Or try to.”
Lazarus gave an approving nod. “Best damn mucking out of stables I ever saw. And now you’re a cosmetic surgeon.”
“Reconstructive surgeon.” Cupping her mug in her palms, she said, “Why did you come here today, Uncle? I know you don’t like me.”
“Don’t like you,” he bellowed, and pounded the table again. “Why, you were the only person, young or old, who ever made me laugh.”
“I did? You did?” Amara frowned. “When?”
“The summer of your fourteenth year, when I punished you for sneaking out of this house. Your grandmother said you put a spell on me.”
Why did the morning suddenly feel completely surreal to her? “I didn’t—well, yes, I did. But I put the spell on your midnight snack, not you.”
He nodded again. “Showed initiative. I appreciate that quality.”
“I think it showed I had a temper, but in any case, the medical side of my brain says your stomach troubles didn’t come from me.”
“It was still a feisty
Similar Books
