The bird dropped again, and this was more of a swoop, skimming along the roadway before winging back up for an aerial view. I closed my eyes and focused on returning to my body.

Take me back. Take me home.

Nothing happened, and panic licked again. What if I couldn’t escape? The one thing worse than becoming a melltithiwyd? Being trapped inside one forever, unable to even control it. What if—?

The bird dropped onto the roof of a building. It wrapped its claws around the edge, and when it looked down, I saw talons. They were bigger than I expected. And black. The melltithiwyd’s feet were white. I could see feathers as black as those talons, not soot-red like the demon-birds’.

The creature let out a croak, and I melted in relief.

A raven. I’d been flung into a raven.

Can you hear me?

No response.

Allwch chi fy nghlywed, bran? I asked.

While I suspected my Welsh wasn’t quite correct, the raven should know what I meant.

But it only looked around. Then it tilted its head, and I thought maybe it heard me, so I tried again, louder, but it only launched and winged across the road. It flew to a gap between two buildings before landing on a twisted tree.

Below, I saw two figures. The raven peered down and I peered along with it, and the darkness lifted enough for me to recognize Helia and Alexios. I let out a mental sigh of relief. They seemed fine. They were crouched in that alley-like gap, Alexios peering around the corner and whispering to his mate.

Then the dryads went still, and the raven’s head shot up. Footsteps sounded from the empty field behind the buildings. Alexios gave a quick look around, and the two dryads darted to the tree the raven was perched in. They pressed against it and melded with the bark until the dryads looked like two extra lumps in an already twisted trunk.

The raven took flight and sailed down that alley toward the field. It flew straight to four shadowy figures making their way through the field. Four cloaked figures. Four Huntsmen, it seemed. Then the raven dove between them and, under two of the hoods, I spotted faces. Very familiar faces.

DEATH BY HELL-BIRD

“I think she likes you,” Ricky said, moving up beside Gabriel as the raven swooped past him twice, cawing.

Gabriel barely gave a distracted “Hmm,” his gaze fixed on the bird.

“Trouble?” Ricky whispered as he patted Lloergan’s head.

Gabriel gave his head a sharp shake and pulled his attention from the raven. “That’s theirs, I presume.”

Ricky was about to answer, but Meic—one of their Huntsman escorts—beat him to it, saying, “She is.”

“Can we ask what she’s seen?” Ricky said.