Crowbones

A delicate dorsal fin broke the surface of the lake, almost close enough to brush against smoke. A tail slapped the water in warning.

Ilya followed.

When he neared the dock, voices sang out from the nearby trees.

“Ilya,” the first voice sang.

“Illllyaaa,” the second voice sang.

“This way, bloodhunter,” the third sang. “This way.”

The Elders in the lake turned away but circled nearby. Ilya reached the dock, reluctant to shift into a human—and much more tangible—form.

Then he heard a flutter, a weak caw.

Moving to the far side of the dock, he saw a Crow hanging upside down, secured to the dock by string tied around its feet.

“Freshly found,” a fourth voice sang.

That explained why the Five hadn’t helped the Crow. It was one explanation, anyway. He chose not to consider any others.

Another flutter and a fading word.

Ilya flowed to the top of the dock, then shifted to human form as he knelt and reached for the Crow. Time enough to find out how she’d ended up there.

Panicked flapping of wings that set her swinging.

“Bloodhunter?” No singsong teasing in the fifth voice. Just deadly suspicion.

Ilya didn’t turn around, didn’t look. He lifted Jozi by the legs with one hand and snapped the string with the other, leaving a couple of inches dangling from the dock. The moment Jozi stopped flapping and fluttering, he wrapped both hands around her.

“She’s confused,” he said.

He didn’t hear them retreat to the shadows among the trees, but he felt their absence. Hurrying off the dock, he headed for The Jumble’s main house.

“Is she confused?” the fifth voice asked. “Is she really?”

He hoped so. For the sake of every Sanguinati living around Lake Silence, he hoped so.