In the Land of Tea and Ravens Read Online Free

heat the tea. I boiled it before I came here, and it’s been steeping a while, but it’s better taken warm.”
    Smoke continued to filter through the room, its pungent odor almost drowning out the woodsy scent that floated on the breeze. Cinnamon and wood.
    Using a long iron hook, Lyric lifted the tea kettle and lowered it over the fire. Perspiration caused the hair at her temple to curl in on itself. The dark strands were distracting, like tiny snakes seeking comfort in her hairline.
    “My grandmother had this hook made,” she said softly.
    Grayson watched her for several minutes, his hands pulling at his T-shirt, the fire making the already warm night even warmer.
    She lifted the kettle from the flames and nodded at the bucket of water. “Can you pour that into the pit?”
    Grayson obeyed simply because he was too fascinated not to, his curiosity more than piqued.
    “Is this like a séance? Tea with your dead grandmother?” he asked.
    The loud hiss of the fire extinguishing was followed by more smoke and perceptive silence.
    Lyric lowered the kettle to the floor before leaning the hook against the wall. Grabbing two teacups from the cupboard, she dropped to her knees near the kettle.
    She waved at the space across from her. “It’s just tea,” she murmured.
    Grayson sat across from her, one leg out, the other bent so that his arm rested across his knee. “Why do I feel damned by those words?” he asked.
    Lyric watched him from beneath lowered lashes. She’d expected him to run, but he hadn’t. She wasn’t sure if that was comforting or foreboding.
    Lifting one of the cups, she filled it halfway and handed it to him.
    “It’s an acquired taste,” Lyric warned.
    She filled her own cup, her gaze moving over his face as she rested the porcelain against her lips. Her nostrils filled with the woodsy, cinnamon scent.
    Grayson’s eyes narrowed, his gaze staying locked to hers as he lifted the cup.
    They drank the tea together.
    Grayson coughed. “What is this?”
    Lyric smiled. It was a pretty smile, and it transformed her, marking her with a beauty he’d overlooked before. Her skin was a yellow-orange in the candlelight, but it didn’t take away from the smile.
    “White willow bark with cinnamon,” Lyric answered. “It’s a healing tea. For pain mostly, but it’s also known to make it easier for people like me to see things.”
    Grayson stared, her words sinking in. “People like you?”
    She shrugged. “A tea girl.”
    Another long swallow of the woodsy liquid and he placed the cup on the floor. “A tea girl?” He leaned forward. “Are you a witch?”
    She laughed, the sound as beautiful as her singing.
    The room felt wrong all of a sudden, as if it were no longer level, the floor pitched at an odd angle.
    “No witch,” she said. “There are witches, I’m sure, but my family descends from a line much older than that. Do you believe in sorcery?”
    The room was definitely uneven, the air thick and close.
    Grayson clawed at his throat. “There was something in that tea,” he accused.
    Lyric reached for him. “No,” she said. “What you are experiencing is normal for people associated with women like me. If you’d drunk the tea alone, you would feel nothing but comfort, but you drank it with me, and tea speaks to me.”
    Somewhere in the house, a rusty-hinged door slammed shut. Dust rained down on them. Along empty hallways, running footsteps sounded. Outside, birds screamed, an awful cawing that went on and on. Wings rustled, a group of black ravens suddenly flying through the windows to perch along the room.
    Slamming doors, footsteps, and the screaming caw of birds.
    Grayson crawled backwards, his fingers kneading his forehead, his eyes wide with horror. His gaze found Lyric’s, but she was staring at something behind his head. A low female voice floated on the night breeze, the sound almost musical amongst the cawing ravens.
    “Protect the cup. Protect it …”
    As the voice faded,