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Authors: Erica Kirov
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broadbrimmed black hat looked three feet wide and was covered in shining black feathers. At the crown of the hat was a stuffed bird.
"She's wearing a raven." Nick elbowed Isabella. "Look at her."
As if she'd heard them from across the lobby, the woman whirled around, fixing her black-eyed stare on Nick. Her face was young—beautiful even, with high cheekbones, a regal nose, and porcelain skin—but her eyes looked ancient. And, Nick decided, evil.
"Who is she?" he whispered.
Isabella shrugged. "I don't know, but I don't trust her."
"Maybe she was the one who brought all those ravens into the sky."
Nick and Isabella watched, scarcely breathing. As the woman turned to walk to the elevators, a huge raven flew across the lobby and landed on her shoulder. Amidst all the other guests, with their alligators and kangaroos, and even a camel and a Komodo dragon, the raven didn't attract much attention. But Nick saw it.
More than that, he felt almost a pinch near his heart, and then that invisible black thread drawing him toward the huge black bird. The room spun slightly, and he held on to the banister. He was certain it was the same raven that had been spying on him.
CHAPTER
8
A DANGEROUS THEFT
Nick stood in front of the mirror in his room, getting dressed for dinner. He sighed and stared at his reflection. A tuxedo! The bow tie was choking him. The old joke (which his father never tired of telling) was right: a tuxedo made a guy look like a penguin. Well, it was just for one night. He turned from the mirror as his crystal ball—perched on its gold pedestal, seeming to sulk for the past few days—suddenly filled with inky smoke, and for a minute, Nick was light-headed.
"You're back," he whispered.
He knew it was strange to talk to a crystal ball, but as Theo had taught, the ball was alive to him in many ways—almost a kindred spirit. Nick ran over and pressed his palms flat against its smooth, round surface. The ball warmed beneath his touch.
"Yes!" His Gazing was back. Nick breathed slowly and
opened his…well, soul—he didn't know how else to describ e it. When he Gazed, he felt as if a whoosh of air shot up fro m his stomach and into his thumping heart before leaving him.
In his mind, he flashed on ravens. Hundreds of them. Blackness all around. The birds were flying over him, near him, beating against him with their wings. He felt their feathers brushing his cheeks, their beaks pulling on his clothing. And he heard a deafening roar. It was so loud that he fell to his knees, took his hands from the ball, and covered his ears. But then he realized that the roar was only in his mind.
He didn't even hear Isabella and Sascha come in.
"Nick, what's wrong?" His cousin ran to his side and knelt next to him.
"They're here. I know they are." His breath came in shallow gasps, and he swatted at the empty air, as if beating the ravens away. "Back! Get back!" he yelled at the unseen birds. The roar continued in his mind, driving him crazy. "Can't you hear them? Can't you? Back!"
"Nick! Nick! Snap out of it!" Isabella pinched his arm really hard in the soft place near his armpit.
" Ow! " he screamed—but it jolted him out of his vision.
"Look at me."
He looked at his cousin. There she was, kneeling next to her tiger. No ravens. No blackness. No danger. Just Isabella. Same dark brown hair, same skinny arms, same slightly turned-up nose. Same lopsided smile—only now her mouth was bent into a crooked frown of concern.
"Sorry," he said softly. "It was a vision. I saw…ravens. Like at the stalls. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Attacking me. Their caws were in my ears. Their sharp beaks were pecking at me."
Sascha nudged him with her slightly damp coal-colored nose, her fur thick as a carpet. The tiger licked his face, her tongue as wide as his forehead, purring loudly. Nick wiped the tiger slobber
"She's wearing a raven." Nick elbowed Isabella. "Look at her."
As if she'd heard them from across the lobby, the woman whirled around, fixing her black-eyed stare on Nick. Her face was young—beautiful even, with high cheekbones, a regal nose, and porcelain skin—but her eyes looked ancient. And, Nick decided, evil.
"Who is she?" he whispered.
Isabella shrugged. "I don't know, but I don't trust her."
"Maybe she was the one who brought all those ravens into the sky."
Nick and Isabella watched, scarcely breathing. As the woman turned to walk to the elevators, a huge raven flew across the lobby and landed on her shoulder. Amidst all the other guests, with their alligators and kangaroos, and even a camel and a Komodo dragon, the raven didn't attract much attention. But Nick saw it.
More than that, he felt almost a pinch near his heart, and then that invisible black thread drawing him toward the huge black bird. The room spun slightly, and he held on to the banister. He was certain it was the same raven that had been spying on him.
CHAPTER
8
A DANGEROUS THEFT
Nick stood in front of the mirror in his room, getting dressed for dinner. He sighed and stared at his reflection. A tuxedo! The bow tie was choking him. The old joke (which his father never tired of telling) was right: a tuxedo made a guy look like a penguin. Well, it was just for one night. He turned from the mirror as his crystal ball—perched on its gold pedestal, seeming to sulk for the past few days—suddenly filled with inky smoke, and for a minute, Nick was light-headed.
"You're back," he whispered.
He knew it was strange to talk to a crystal ball, but as Theo had taught, the ball was alive to him in many ways—almost a kindred spirit. Nick ran over and pressed his palms flat against its smooth, round surface. The ball warmed beneath his touch.
"Yes!" His Gazing was back. Nick breathed slowly and
opened his…well, soul—he didn't know how else to describ e it. When he Gazed, he felt as if a whoosh of air shot up fro m his stomach and into his thumping heart before leaving him.
In his mind, he flashed on ravens. Hundreds of them. Blackness all around. The birds were flying over him, near him, beating against him with their wings. He felt their feathers brushing his cheeks, their beaks pulling on his clothing. And he heard a deafening roar. It was so loud that he fell to his knees, took his hands from the ball, and covered his ears. But then he realized that the roar was only in his mind.
He didn't even hear Isabella and Sascha come in.
"Nick, what's wrong?" His cousin ran to his side and knelt next to him.
"They're here. I know they are." His breath came in shallow gasps, and he swatted at the empty air, as if beating the ravens away. "Back! Get back!" he yelled at the unseen birds. The roar continued in his mind, driving him crazy. "Can't you hear them? Can't you? Back!"
"Nick! Nick! Snap out of it!" Isabella pinched his arm really hard in the soft place near his armpit.
" Ow! " he screamed—but it jolted him out of his vision.
"Look at me."
He looked at his cousin. There she was, kneeling next to her tiger. No ravens. No blackness. No danger. Just Isabella. Same dark brown hair, same skinny arms, same slightly turned-up nose. Same lopsided smile—only now her mouth was bent into a crooked frown of concern.
"Sorry," he said softly. "It was a vision. I saw…ravens. Like at the stalls. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Attacking me. Their caws were in my ears. Their sharp beaks were pecking at me."
Sascha nudged him with her slightly damp coal-colored nose, her fur thick as a carpet. The tiger licked his face, her tongue as wide as his forehead, purring loudly. Nick wiped the tiger slobber
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