Bitter Demons

43. The Crow

The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering in full force by the time midnight rolled around. I had no idea if Jackson would show or if he was still super angry with me. What if he hadn't even seen the note? How long was I willing to wait here in the barn for him to show?

I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time again. Five after. He was definitely late. I warmed my hands with my breath, then rubbed them together. I should have worn gloves.

It was dark inside the barn, and I considered conjuring an orb to make it seem less frightening, but decided against it. Any extra light might draw attention, and there was no telling who might be watching.

A flutter of wings up above sent an icy chill up my spine. My breath stopped cold in my chest and I took a step backward toward the door. Had I imagined it? I held my breath and listened closely. Then, the flapping sound came again, and my body flooded with terror.

In the next instant, a shadow flew in front of my face. I swatted at it, lunging for the door. Hoping for escape. I screamed as I tripped over something hard and metal on the floor. I heard the fabric of my jeans rip and warm blood trickle down my shin, but I didn't stop. I scrambled to my feet and kept moving. Two more steps and I would have made it outside.

The crow swooped down, its sharp claw scraping across my cheek. I reached up to touch the scratch, then stumbled, my vision blurred. All I saw as I lost consciousness was the sinister gleam of its blood-red eyes.