Seventeen

The Raven Returns

Despite its small size, Aldermere had a weekly newspaper.

The Aldermere Oracle was about five pages long and normally consisted of a few news articles (local highway closures, accounts of town council drama, and the occasional lost pet), a weather prediction (Aunt Myrtle firmly refused to do it, no matter how much the editor begged her), an advice column for people who wanted to write in about irritating relatives and relationships (author unknown), and a recipe (presumably provided by Mr. Madeira).

Newspapers showed up on doorsteps every Wednesday morning. No one knew how they were delivered—and no one questioned it.

Fin woke early on Wednesday, if only so she could avoid Mom. They hadn’t spoken to each other much last night; Fin returned to the cottage and immediately climbed the ladder into the loft. When Mom came back from work late, she had checked to make sure that Fin was in bed, but she hadn’t said a word. Fin heard the bedroom door click shut with mingled relief and regret.

She loved Mom—but sometimes it felt like there was a divide between them. Mom was like Eddie and Aunt Myrtle; she didn’t understand.

Fin got dressed in the dark and unlocked the front door. The newspaper sat there, tied with twine. Fin picked it up and jammed it into her back pocket. She liked reading it on the bus, and Mom could always get another copy at the inn.

Eddie had slept in and looked both rumpled and half asleep when he met her by the door of the big house. Their walk down to the redwood-carving shop was a silent one; both were lost in their own thoughts. Fin kept remembering the cool, slick touch of Teafin’s fingers against her bare skin and the plunge into memories. She kept wondering what parts of herself she’d given up and if those parts were truly monstrous.

Eddie finally woke up when they climbed into the school bus. His jaw cracked as he yawned and said, “You do realize it’s this Sunday, right?”

“What’s this Sunday?” Fin was half listening as she slid the twine from the rolled-up newspaper. It was a little damp on one side, and Fin took care to pry apart the pages so they didn’t tear. CRIME SPREE IN ALDERMERE CAUSES CONCERN AMONG RESIDENTS, went the top headline.

“The science fair,” said Eddie. “You know—the thing that started all of this? The reason I’ve got two lizards in a tank in my room? The reason we’ve got a half-finished poster about native plants in the living room? I know Teafin matters and all, but failing science isn’t going to help things.” His hands clenched. “River was bragging that he got his stupid windmill working. I overheard him yesterday at lunch. Green energy’s popular right now, so he figures he’ll win.”

“Oh,” said Fin. She’d honestly forgotten about the science fair in the wake of . . . well, everything else. “Right. We’ll—uh. We can work on it later. I promised Mr. Hardin I’d go back and finish those deliveries today.” She turned her attention back to the paper.

Her heart still throbbed at the thought that Ben had seen Teafin set the fire and could accuse Fin herself of the crime.

A crime spree has struck the normally peaceful town of Aldermere. “It seems residents must begin locking their doors at night,” says Mayor Downer, in an exclusive interview this reporter obtained while the mayor was locked out of her car. “We should all be more diligent.”

The crimes began with an attack on a well-known pillar of the community. Mrs. Marian Brackenbury was mugged on Tuesday, September 10. “They took my shopping,” says Mrs. Brackenbury. “And they left before I could set my dog on them.” Known for her olallieberry jam, which placed three times in the county fair, Mrs. Brackenbury seems an unlikely target for such a crime. Many residents were hoping it was a one-off, but then the Madeiras’ home was burglarized. Add in a case of suspected arson, and there could be a criminal among us.

Fin’s breath caught, and she read on so fast the words nearly blurred before her eyes.

Ben Byrne, whose shed was the target of the arson, refused an interview with the Oracle, saying, “It wasn’t arson, it was bad wiring, and if you don’t get off of my lawn I’ll make sure you can’t come to the next town council meeting.”

Despite the witness’s unwillingness to come forward, this intrepid reporter—

Fin let out a long, relieved breath.

Ben hadn’t talked to the Oracle.

“Are you actually reading that?” said Eddie. He sounded exasperated. “The Oracle’s never gotten it right, not since I can remember. It’s Ms. Catmore trying to stir up gossip.”

“Your mom reads this,” said Fin.

“She reads the advice column,” replied Eddie. “And she likes the recipes. But the news is always wrong.”

“Well, she was right about Mrs. Brackenbury getting mugged and someone setting fire to Ben’s shed,” said Fin. She continued reading, glad that the curves of the highway didn’t make her carsick. Eddie could never read during bus rides. As she read, she let out a horrified little laugh.

“What?” Eddie sat up straighter. “Did something else burn down?”

Fin pressed a hand to her mouth. “Just—the latest crime. Someone vandalized Mayor Downer’s lawn.”

“No,” Eddie said, aghast. “She keeps that thing perfect. Even during the drought months when we’re really not supposed to be watering anything, it’s always exactly one inch tall and green.”

“Yeah.” Fin’s eyes flew across the words. “Apparently someone snuck into Mayor Downer’s yard last night and cut the lawn so it . . . uh, spelled out something very rude.”

“If I hadn’t seen Mom at dinner last night, I might have thought she was behind it,” Eddie said, relaxing back into the bus seat.

Fin grimaced. “Or maybe it’s Teafin. Setting fire to a shed, breaking into Mr. Madeira’s house, vandalizing Mayor Downer’s lawn—I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“I mean, it’s kind of a harmless prank,” said Eddie. “Probably one of the neighbor kids.”

Fin looked down at the picture of Ben’s burned shed. “I wonder why Ben didn’t tell the Oracle about . . .” She didn’t want to say the words aloud.

Eddie looked thoughtful. “He may not have gotten a good look at Teafin. Maybe he caught a glimpse, or . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Or what?” asked Fin.

Eddie shrugged. “Ben likes you,” he said. “Maybe he didn’t want to get you in trouble. And I mean, your mom is his boss. He isn’t going to accuse you without proof.”

That was something Fin had never considered. She always thought of Mom in her office, managing giant piles of paper and keeping guests happy. It never occurred to her that Mom was actually someone’s boss.

Fin looked down at the newspaper; she was holding it so tightly that the paper crinkled beneath her fingers. The last line of the article read, “Will this crime spree continue?” The school bus jounced beneath her and she gritted her teeth.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she said quietly.

The problem was getting hold of matches.

Just as Eddie had said, Aunt Myrtle didn’t keep them in the house. Even so, when they got home from school Fin spent a good hour searching the junk drawers of the big house while Eddie looked on in quiet disapproval.

“I still think this plan is kind of evil,” he said. “And besides, the grocery store doesn’t even sell matches or lighters.”

“What about the inn?” said Fin, then immediately quashed that plan. “No, Ben’s already suspicious. And if he catches me stealing matches . . .”

“Not a good thing,” said Eddie. He rubbed at the back of his head. “Listen, Fin. I still think this is . . . I mean, it’s one thing to try and chase a tiny blob of tea through the woods, but it’s something else to—”

“Talia’s,” said Fin, alighting on the idea. “She has to burn the tea. She must keep matches around somewhere.”

“So you want to break into Talia’s a third time?” said Eddie, exasperated.

“Is it really breaking in if the back door’s unlocked?” Fin asked.

“Yes.”

“All right, then,” said Fin. She was a little pleased that the idea of rule breaking was getting easier. Maybe it meant she was becoming a little more fearless—or desperate.

“No,” said Eddie, crossing his arms in a rare show of irritation. “Nope. We are not doing this now. We have a science fair project, remember? And even if I’m not going to beat River with his windmill monstrosity, I refuse to show up with anything less than a decent terrarium.”

Shame flooded Fin’s chest. She had been a terrible science fair partner—and Eddie was so cheerful and easygoing that this show of displeasure hit her all the harder. All the chaos surrounding Teafin had sent Fin’s life into a tailspin; she still hadn’t returned to the Ack for her deliveries, even though it was Wednesday. She wasn’t speaking to Mom. And now Eddie was irritated with her.

She had to do better.

She’d call Mr. Hardin and tell him she’d stop by tomorrow—that would give her enough time to finish working on the science fair project with Eddie. She owed him that much. As for Mom . . . Fin would talk to her. Eventually. At some point.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said. “Let’s work on the science fair stuff.”

And maybe, just maybe, if they did well in the science fair, Mom wouldn’t bring up the counselor again.

“We should get a few more plant samples,” said Eddie. “I want to pin them to the poster and label them.”

Fin looked at the lizards in the tank; one was sunning itself beneath a heating lamp. They appeared to be unconcerned with their temporary gig as science fair displays. Or they were unaware. “Here,” said Eddie, giving Fin a hand-drawn picture of a flower. “Bring back a few of these. They grow out back, behind the wood pile.”

Fin nodded and took the paper, a little glad to be on her own. Between her mom, Teafin, Eddie, and school, she hadn’t had a moment to herself for a while. She stepped out the back door. Aunt Myrtle kept her wood pile on the western side, neatly stacked on pallets and kept dry with a small tarp pinned to a nearby tree. Fin walked around the back, damp grasses brushing at her ankles, and began to search for the flowers. She pushed aside a few ferns and was kneeling beside the tarp when a voice called out to her.

“Ms. Barnes.”

Her head jerked up. No one in Aldermere called Fin by her surname. Fin rose from her crouch and saw a man standing about twenty feet away. Fin blinked through the late afternoon sunlight and saw dark hair and a slightly crooked nose.

“Nick,” she said, then shook her head. Eddie had called him that, but she didn’t know him. “Mr. Elphinstone.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Nick,” he said, “is just fine.” He walked forward, and she realized he was carrying something. His long fingers were curled carefully around a small raven. “I thought you should see her off. Since you found her.”

Fin stepped closer. The raven, to her relief, was peering around the world with a kind of mild curiosity. The bird didn’t seem disturbed by Nick’s gentle grip on her.

Unease coiled at the base of Fin’s spine. The bird had been hurt by Teafin, and maybe the raven had communicated that to Nick. He did have an affinity for them. What if the raven had told him that Fin was the guilty culprit, and Nick had come here as a sort of test?

Fin forced herself to breathe evenly. “She going to be okay?”

Nick nodded. He tickled the raven beneath her beak, stirring the shorter feathers with the edge of his thumb. The raven made a strange, happy grumbling sound.

“She’s all healed up,” said Nick. And without warning, he opened his hands and tossed the bird into the air.

Her wings opened at once, flapping wildly as the raven righted herself. She did a loop about the yard, letting out a few excited croaks.

Nick watched her, smiling slightly.

Fin expected the raven to flap off into the trees, but the sound of wings slicing through the air grew louder, and then it was right beside her ear. Fin cried out as the raven’s wingtip glanced across her head.

It was attacking. It did remember Teafin, did blame Fin, and—

And then all was still. Fin stood there, eyes squeezed shut and one arm raised defensively, but nothing happened.

There was an odd weight on her shoulder. Fin cracked open one eye and looked to her left.

The raven sat on her shoulder. She made a sound like a chuckle, low in her throat. Fin remained frozen in place, unsure what to do. The raven hopped closer, then ran her beak through Fin’s hair.

“Crows and ravens have long been associated with bad luck,” said Nick. “But in older traditions, they were often watchers or servants of old gods. They were associated with prophecy and with great deeds. They are death and victory in equal measure. Even today, there’s still the superstition that if the ravens ever leave the Tower of London, the kingdom will fall. They’re smart creatures, corvids. They recognize people.” Fin wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but then Nick said, “Hold up your hand to her.”

The raven was still perched on her shoulder, and with slightly shaking fingers, Fin raised her hand to the bird. The raven made another soft chuckling sound and began gently nibbling at Fin’s fingertips.

“What,” said Fin, “is she doing?” She still half expected the bird to attack her.

“She likes you,” said Nick. “You should give her a hard-boiled egg once a week. Or raw scraps of meat. She’ll appreciate it.”

“What?” said Fin, startled almost beyond words. “Am I supposed to keep her?”

Nick laughed, and the sound was low and raspy. As if he was unused to laughing. “No, Ms. Barnes. One doesn’t keep a wild raven. But sometimes, if you’re lucky—a raven might choose to keep you.” He took a few steps back, gave Fin a small courtly bow, and strode back in the direction of his home—outside the town lines.

Fin called after him, unable to help herself.

“I thought—I thought you didn’t come into town,” she said. She wasn’t sure what made her say it. She probably shouldn’t have—it wasn’t her business.

Nick paused mid-step, then threw a calculating look over his shoulder at her. “Good afternoon, Finley.” And then continued on his way, leaving Fin with even more questions.

The raven croaked, then took flight, alighting atop the woodpile.

Fin liked animals, but she’d never had a way with them, not like Eddie. She’d scratch Mr. Bull’s ears or pet the cat that lurked around the grocery store, but that was the extent of her animal interactions.

The raven made a clicking sound low in her throat. It sounded like a rusted door hinge.

“Hi,” Fin said.

The raven cocked her head, staring beadily at Fin.

“I didn’t attack you,” Fin said. “I—I think you know that? Is that why you like me? Because I took you away from her?”

The raven clicked again. Then she began wiping her beak along a cut piece of wood. Fin shook her head, unsure of what else to say. “Listen, I have to find some plants or Eddie is going to stay mad at me,” she told the raven.

The raven croaked again. Then she spread her wings and took to the air, flapping off toward Main Street. Fin watched her go, still uncertain of what had just transpired.