The Crow Crew Novels & Stories

Eden’s POV My jaw dropped open. The crow continued to circle high above. Caw. Caw. It screeched at us in a frantic, frenzied way. “Did you just say…sister?” I whispered back to Beta Brighton. Unlike the rest of us, he was looking up at the crow with admiration. Crows have never been my favorite bird. They’re scavengers and they’re smart. A group of crows is called a ‘murder’. I always found that disturbing. But Beta Brighton gripped my arm. “Please,” he said under his breath.

I stood, wondering what was coming and what could be going on. Jake Kurt received a deadly blow of an axe at the back of his head and his eyes were opened. I shook my head as I studied his body. Who could have done this, huh? As I made to stand, I saw something that caught my attention. Would I be damned? There was a sculpture of a crow on his corpse. “What?” I was shocked. What could have happened here? This was definitely from the Crow organization. And it brewed my curiosity. ***

The council chamber was cavernous, its stone walls adorned with banners bearing the crest of Arindale—a golden falcon soaring against a crimson backdrop. Emilia’s footsteps echoed as she entered, the heavy wooden doors closing behind her. The chamber was already alive with voices, nobles and advisors engaged in animated conversation.

Just shadow near the far wall, like the light refused to claim him. Coat Guy rushed on, trying to seize the conversation back. “You promised this would stay contained. No witnesses. No heat. Now one of my men is dead and Crowe’s talking about pulling out.” “Crowe doesn’t get to pull out,” Big Guy growled. “Not after what he’s seen.” My pulse jumped. What he’s seen. My mind threw images at me—burned beams, blood in snow, a body dragged out of sight. I hated that my brain could fill in blanks.

Grasping one he bounds over to the girl as others tried to help her from the crow. With one smack of the broom, Cylester sends the bird flying across the room. It falls ungracefully, trying and failing to right itself. Another hard smack has its neck twisting in an odd angle that lets everyone know it was dead as its body stills. Cylester lifts his head to stare at the wolves crowding the room. "Where did the crow come from?" He asked, voicing his curiosity.

Ava prepared a place for the crow to sleep while Rachel and I wrapped it up like a baby. “What the hell are you all doing?” the commanding voice of a man rang out. I left the crow with Rachel and Ava, standing up to face the shirtless man at the door. Behind him was a quiver of arrows, and in his hand was a crossbow. He smelled of trees and damp earth. “Alpha Trent,” I bowed my head in greeting and replied, “We are trying to save the crow that crashed into our wall.” “Why would you save that hideous, cursed creature?” Trent glanced at the crow with pure disgust.

All warriors were gathering behind me, keeping their eyes locked at Crow. James took a few steps forward. His hands balled up fists. But as he was about to reach me, crow flicked his hand and James flew back. He was caught by Alex who's eyes were black. He was covered in blood and had bite marks up and down his arms. ”This is between you and me,” Crow said as he looked at me. I nodded my head before turning to James. His eyes were glowing and his canines were showing. ”It’s okay,” I said with a smile.

or someone. My gaze followed theirs, and that was the moment I saw him---Frost. He was seated on the bare ground, bound around his hands and his legs, with his face tightly squeezed. He was no different from a petty thief who had been caught in the act. My breath hitched in my throat. "What the hell is going on here?" I didn't know when my inner thoughts had spilled from my lips, but I was glad that it did. All heads turned in my direction. The entire crew, they were stunned for a brief moment, their eyes widened at the sight of me. But that... that was only the first crack in the glass.

His hair fell off his shoulder, more dry than before. "Watch for the crows that gather at dusk. Do no give it a second thought on the whispers you might hear in the trees, do not step outside. And if you see a mark burned upon your door..." He stopped, the words seemed like impending doom, like a prophecy of sorts. My voice was barely breath. "What then?" His eyes met mine, fire and sorrow entwined. "Then it will already be too late." The words fell into me like stones in water, rippling outward. The clinic no longer felt like the safe haven I had built with my hands; it felt like a fragile lantern set against a vast storm.

He mulled it over, then whispered, "Alright, you're in. Just remember the deal: $2,500 a month, cash. Bail early, and you don't see a dime. And if trouble comes knocking, this place doesn't exist, got it?" "Got it." That night, I claimed my spot in the staff dorm, a six-bunk stinkhole, where mold wrestled with the stench of cheap cologne, all under the watchful grind of an old fan. However, it was my fortress of solitude, bought and paid for by me. Come morning, my dad's henchman sniffed me out and ratted to the old man. Dad's voice thundered through the phone, "Put Harriet on!"