The Girl and The Raven Read Online Free Page B

smirk appears on my face before I can stop it. “That’s pretty unbelievable.”
    She glares at me, a sigh escaping between clenched teeth.
    “You can’t be serious.” My voice raises several octaves. I fight it—hard—but my lips curl at the corners and I’m struck with a mad case of the giggles. “I’m sorry…I can’t help it! I have visions of Gram riding on a broomstick, wearing a big black hat.”
    She mutters under her breath and fusses with the fabric of her curtains-in-a-former-life dress. “Do you have another explanation for what just happened?”
    The flutter of wings, the gentle flapping sounded so real…and the heartbeat. It’s weaker than last time.
    “You’re serious.” It takes me a minute to compute. “So how did you do that just now?”
    “I channeled Lola and transmitted it to you.”
    Channeled? Transmitted? “Are you a witch, too?”
    Persephone nods. “So is Henry Klein.”
    “Gram’s attorney?” I gulp. Henry came over once a month for dinner during my summers here, usually on Sundays. He and Gram used to go for walks together afterwards. I was never allowed to join them. “Do Sheldon and Bernard know?”
    “Your grandmother never wanted them to know.”
    So Momma’s not the only one who kept secrets.
    “I’m telling you this because it’s time we discuss your powers.”
    I avoid her gaze. She’s referring to The Incident. Momma yelling at me from the couch…always on the couch…always yelling. She wanted another beer. I told her to get it herself. She tried to stand…twice…and fell back on the couch each time. She cursed at me. I laughed.
    In a fit of anger, she picked up the green glass ashtray. I didn’t duck, assuming she’d miss. She always missed. My knees buckled and I saw stars when it struck my forehead and ripped into my skin. Blood, warm and sticky, trickled down my face.
    “You think you’re too good for me? For this house?” Momma slurred. The cigarette fell from her fingers and landed on the center cushion, where the ashtray sat moments ago.
    I didn’t know…never gave into it before. My eyes fixed on the stupid cigarette as it burned into the fabric. I imagined I could hear the slight hiss as the glowing red tip burned the cushion, could smell the burning fibers. The voice in my head told me to turn and walk away. Momma’s voice filled my head with sharp, grating insults. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t listen to the voice of reason. I couldn’t deny myself anymore.
    With that one thought, all sound ceased to exist. Momma’s mouth moved but I couldn’t hear her curses. The TV was still on, but I couldn’t hear its jabber. It was as if my head had been submerged into a black hole of silence. Serenity flooded my veins, lowering my heart rate. Meanwhile, something hot and fierce raged in my belly looking for release. Set it free, I thought. I raised my hands toward the couch. The turmoil raced hot and heavy from my belly up to my chest and burst down my arms where it unleashed from my palms a fiery orb. It shot out, like a bullet from a gun, and hit the center cushion at the point of the cigarette tip, incinerating it in an instant before flames licked their way toward Momma who scrambled to shield herself. She fell off the couch and still I was in silence, awed and fascinated by the flames slashing a black path through the dirty faded fabric and moldy foam insert.
    A splash of liquid on my face snapped me out of my trance. Momma’s voice came through loud and clear. You’re a freak, just like her. I knew it. Devil child. See what you’ve done? I trembled and wiped my face, now smelling like the beer that Momma had tossed from her can. It mixed with the blood still coursing freely from my split forehead. Horror and dread filled me as I watched Momma struggle to put out the flames. What did I do? How did this happen? I stare at my hands, trembling and crimson as if stained by raspberries. Just like her.
    “Lucy.” Persephone’s voice