Read Online Stranger on Raven's Ridge by Jenna Ryan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jenna Ryan
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the owner called out. “We’ve got a generator...three, two, one, there she goes.”
Less than a quarter of the lights sputtered back on. Grotesque shadows fell in all directions. Raven suspected it was a quiet order from the bartender that made the fiddle player pick up his bow and slide into a mournful East Coast lament.
“Old Joe knows how to create an atmosphere, I’ll give him that.” Twitching off a secondary shiver, Raven eased closer to Aidan. “Maybe we should leave.”
A woman screamed. First one, then another, and another. Within seconds, a loud clatter of feet erupted, tables and chairs scraped across the floor, and people began to shout.
Raven’s first instinct was to pinpoint the source of the commotion, but Aidan’s hand on her neck prevented her from standing.
“I just want to see...” She swallowed the rest of that thought when two large, black shadows swooped down from the rafters.
The commotion swiftly bumped up to a full-scale panic.
“Under the table.” Aidan took her there with him. “Do not leave this spot,” he told her, and was gone before she could respond.
More fascinated than frightened, Raven watched several winged shadows move across the ceiling. “What is with the birds in this town?” she demanded of no one. “And that’s not a raven, it’s a crow.”
A man running past tripped and sprawled on the bench she’d just vacated. A moment later, someone shoved a woman in leather sandals to the floor.
The fallen man scrambled to his feet and bolted. Raven crawled out from under the table to help the dazed woman. Blood oozed from a cut on her forehead, and she seemed disoriented.
Pressing a napkin to the wound, Raven asked, “How did this happen?”
In response, two pairs of stubby fingernails began to swipe the air between them. “He said they were possessed, and he was right.”
“Who...? Ouch!” A heavy body slammed into Raven’s shoulder. She heard flapping and saw a net fly into the air. There was a loud caw, and finally, the inevitable gunshot.
“We’re damned.” The woman, a shorn platinum-blonde, hiccuped. “Reverend Alley says we’re going to burn in hell for our curiosity.”
Of course there’d be a zealot in the mix. Keeping the woman low, Raven examined her forehead. “Cut’s not deep.” She caught the swiping hand before it scratched her face. “I promise, the birds won’t hurt you if you stay right here.”
“The evil needs a new host.” Seriously drunk, the woman tipped sideways. “They never mentioned that in the brochure.”
“Evil can be a bastard,” Raven agreed. “Just stay here, okay, and that new host won’t be you.”
As another bullet discharged, she stood and attempted to locate Aidan and Rooney. A bullet could strike a human as easily as a bird. Aidan hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he’d head straight for whoever had. And while Rooney wouldn’t charge in, he’d be riveted enough by the spectacle not to leave.
Determined to get her great grandfather out, she started for the dartboard. And rammed straight into a man wearing a muscle shirt, biker gloves and a wicked leer.
“My, my, my,” he drawled. “Ain’t you just about the prettiest thing I’ve seen since that prison door swung open last month. What do you think, blondie? Is your friend here pretty enough to eat or what?”
The woman under the table launched into a sloppy hymn.
Firming his grip on Raven’s wrists, the man let his leer widen. “I love these freako events. There’s always some sugar begging to be sampled.” He yanked her closer. “What say you and me step outside where we can be private with no birds to disturb us?”
His hold on her was painful and he smelled strongly of sweat and whiskey. At six-two, two hundred pounds, he wasn’t as large as Fergus Smith, but right then, he seemed a great deal more menacing.
While she struggled, one of the ravens dived. The man ignored it and cinched her wrists tighter. Then he swore and swung
Less than a quarter of the lights sputtered back on. Grotesque shadows fell in all directions. Raven suspected it was a quiet order from the bartender that made the fiddle player pick up his bow and slide into a mournful East Coast lament.
“Old Joe knows how to create an atmosphere, I’ll give him that.” Twitching off a secondary shiver, Raven eased closer to Aidan. “Maybe we should leave.”
A woman screamed. First one, then another, and another. Within seconds, a loud clatter of feet erupted, tables and chairs scraped across the floor, and people began to shout.
Raven’s first instinct was to pinpoint the source of the commotion, but Aidan’s hand on her neck prevented her from standing.
“I just want to see...” She swallowed the rest of that thought when two large, black shadows swooped down from the rafters.
The commotion swiftly bumped up to a full-scale panic.
“Under the table.” Aidan took her there with him. “Do not leave this spot,” he told her, and was gone before she could respond.
More fascinated than frightened, Raven watched several winged shadows move across the ceiling. “What is with the birds in this town?” she demanded of no one. “And that’s not a raven, it’s a crow.”
A man running past tripped and sprawled on the bench she’d just vacated. A moment later, someone shoved a woman in leather sandals to the floor.
The fallen man scrambled to his feet and bolted. Raven crawled out from under the table to help the dazed woman. Blood oozed from a cut on her forehead, and she seemed disoriented.
Pressing a napkin to the wound, Raven asked, “How did this happen?”
In response, two pairs of stubby fingernails began to swipe the air between them. “He said they were possessed, and he was right.”
“Who...? Ouch!” A heavy body slammed into Raven’s shoulder. She heard flapping and saw a net fly into the air. There was a loud caw, and finally, the inevitable gunshot.
“We’re damned.” The woman, a shorn platinum-blonde, hiccuped. “Reverend Alley says we’re going to burn in hell for our curiosity.”
Of course there’d be a zealot in the mix. Keeping the woman low, Raven examined her forehead. “Cut’s not deep.” She caught the swiping hand before it scratched her face. “I promise, the birds won’t hurt you if you stay right here.”
“The evil needs a new host.” Seriously drunk, the woman tipped sideways. “They never mentioned that in the brochure.”
“Evil can be a bastard,” Raven agreed. “Just stay here, okay, and that new host won’t be you.”
As another bullet discharged, she stood and attempted to locate Aidan and Rooney. A bullet could strike a human as easily as a bird. Aidan hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he’d head straight for whoever had. And while Rooney wouldn’t charge in, he’d be riveted enough by the spectacle not to leave.
Determined to get her great grandfather out, she started for the dartboard. And rammed straight into a man wearing a muscle shirt, biker gloves and a wicked leer.
“My, my, my,” he drawled. “Ain’t you just about the prettiest thing I’ve seen since that prison door swung open last month. What do you think, blondie? Is your friend here pretty enough to eat or what?”
The woman under the table launched into a sloppy hymn.
Firming his grip on Raven’s wrists, the man let his leer widen. “I love these freako events. There’s always some sugar begging to be sampled.” He yanked her closer. “What say you and me step outside where we can be private with no birds to disturb us?”
His hold on her was painful and he smelled strongly of sweat and whiskey. At six-two, two hundred pounds, he wasn’t as large as Fergus Smith, but right then, he seemed a great deal more menacing.
While she struggled, one of the ravens dived. The man ignored it and cinched her wrists tighter. Then he swore and swung
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