Page 42 of The Crow Games

“Why, hello there, beautiful,” the young man said for my benefit, his smile filling out his freckled cheeks. “The name’s Brick. Thief of the gods, they call me, but you can call me whatever you’d like.”

Nola snorted so loudly it echoed. “No one calls you that, Brick. You can drop the act. Maven’s one of us now.”

“Ah, good. Another one for the ‘secret alliance,’ eh?” he stage-whispered, nudging Nola with his thin elbow.

Nola pinched the bridge of her nose. “For the love of the Crone,” she groaned. “You’re not supposed to say it out loud. It’s not a secret if you blabber on about it all the time.”

“This is why I keep telling you to cut all the rogues loose,” Ruchel grumbled. Glaring from the foot of my bed, she crossed both arms over her middle. “They’ll give everything away.”

“Oi! Who you calling a rogue?” Brick protested.

“Don’t act offended. We’re all crooks, thieves, and troublemakers here on Death’s train.” Nola cast a glance my way and winked. “There isn’t a virtuous one amongst us. There’s no need to pretend otherwise. Now, get to it. What do you want?”

“I’ve decided to bless you lovely ladies with my company today. I’m going to travel with you instead of the insipid bumblers you stuck me with.” Brick flashed another wide smile. “No need to thank me all at once.”

Nola shook her head. “Absolutely not. Have you already forgotten how they went for you last time? Or do I need to stick your ginger head inside another flush toilet until the point swims into your ears?”

Brick huffed at her. “You can’t keep shoving me off with the red crew. They’re a bunch of whiny tosspots.”

“What’d you steal from them this time?” Ruchel demanded.

“It’s unfair to assume that,” Brick said, blue eyes going soft and puppy-like. “The other reds are so short-sighted and irritating I can’t bear the thought of facing another trial with them. You can’t make me. I’ll go on strike.”

“There’s no union of crooks in the Otherworld,” Ruchel ground out.

“Stop picking their pockets, maybe?” Nola said, gesturing broadly. “I bet then the other reds will become more agreeable.”

Brick did a double-take, suddenly noticing the intimidating reaper playing a statue in the corner. “Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water,” the red witch said, dragging his gaze appreciatively up and down Asher’s cloaked and hooded form. “Almost didn’t see you there. You’re not half bad-looking for a crow.”

“You’re a child,” Asher replied dismissively.

Brick sucked in a breath, appalled. “I am not! That’s a lie, that is. Why is everyone in such a rotten mood this morning?”

He was only a bit younger than Lisbeth but certainly a child compared to Asher and me. I chuckled at him. I didn’t have the energy to like anyone else—my quota on that front was overly full—but I didn’tdislikethis Brick fellow. He seemed harmless to me.

“We don’t have time for your troubles today, Brick. Go make up with the other reds,” Nola said, ushering him out the door. “Whatever you did this time, try saying you’re sorry for once in your foolish life, and maybe people will stop threatening to stick your head into the toilet or worse.”

* * *

The first trial opened into a residential district, the main road lined with brownstones and gaslights. The streets were decorated with colorful mosaics depicting Hel, a goddess of terrifying beauty who once ruled the Otherworld. She was overthrown by her children Nott and Mara, her essence transformed into the icy realm now bearing her name. A home to lost malevolent spirits made by nightmares, the shades, and vicious garm beasts.

Shades haunted a phantom fog that hovered between the buildings. But the mist was not a problem for us. Emma and Liesel had made a special wax which we used to plug our ears to prevent the beings from entering our minds to drink our energy and haunt us with bad dreams. Candles were plentiful on the train, and the roots to cast the earth spell were easy to find.

Nola and Ruchel told the others that they would be meeting with Guardian recruiters at the Alwin library near the clock tower to arrange a trade for more ammunition, something we dearly needed. Blue was not favored by the Guardians because of how often she discouraged others like Talia from taking up their cause.

She excused herself from joining us, and the sisters followed her as usual.

We arrived at the library with hours to spare. Nola and Ruchel used the time to make themselves more familiar with the place, drawing eyes to the atrium of the building, away from me.

Asher and I holed up near a back entrance.

Thanks to him, I was dressed in black broadcloth, blending in with the others who happened by. Asher didn’t kill people, but he thought nothing of stealing from them. The pockets of my borrowed trousers contained a pouch of tobacco, rolling papers, and a lighter. I wore my hair in a coiled braid like the other witches did, pinned just above the nape of my neck, and I smoked a rolled cigarette slowly.

The crowd dispersed, and Asher materialized beside me, seated on the cobblestones to wait for the prime moment. He removed a leather journal from his waistcoat and wrote furiously to pass the time. He was writing right to left.

“Are you journaling in Frian?” I asked.

“I am,” he said, without looking up from his work, propping the journal up against his knee. “I’ve always liked Frian best, though books written in it reach the Otherworld less and less often now. Those priestesses knew what they were doing.”

---