Hi Internet People,
For the final addition to my Poe Party fanfic I start right where I left off last week with Lenore’s discovery of the ravens in the house. I have really enjoyed writing these stories with Balt and Phil and I hope you’ve enjoyed them too.
“Perhaps this isn’t the best time to discuss the ravens in the room, Lenore.”
Edgar spoke in a strained voice as he worked to maintain his composure after the appearance of the unexpected, and murderous guest, Anne Bronte.
With a roll of her eyes Lenore remarked,
“Fine, I guess you have a point, but don’t think I’m letting this slide just because we are dealing with murderers right now.”
“If the two of you are quite finished, we are in the midst of a murderous reveal.”
Charlotte was pointedly staring at Lenore and Edgar with a look of irritation. Edgar tucked his chin toward his chest and apologetically gestured for the Bronte sisters to continue with their deadly dialogue. The ravens, who had led to this interruption, mimicked the author and bowed their beaks as they shifted as far back as they could into the shadows. They listened intently as the sisters elaborated on the murders, but as soon as Chekhov was mentioned Balt whistled under his breath,
“That Chekhov guy sure sounds like a pistol.”
The smaller raven gave a light croaking chuckle,
“Once, twice, three times a lover, huh Balt?”
Both birds had to muffle their laughter with their wings, but before they could regain a modicum of composure, Phil squawked out the word,
Thankfully the reveal of Eddie seemed to have distracted the remaining authors and Lenore from the birds, but Balt still flung a wing around Phil’s open beak.
“Shhh, do you want the killers to hear you? Seriously those ladies would probably kill us as quick as any of those authors. Eddie can’t be a ghost, with the psychic gone there’s no way to do that whole summoning thing like what Lenore went through. Just keep quiet birdbrain, I’m guessing Eddie isn’t here for a polite conversation over cold soup.”
As the no longer dead Ed began his villainous monologue, the ravens gasped when it was revealed he was the brother of Lenore’s long dead lover.
“I never would have guessed this was for revenge Balt. I mean it’s not Lenore’s fault Guy died.”
“Poor Lenore, she might not want us here, but seriously this Guy obsessed guy went too far. I was starting to ship Wellenore too. I thought this was one of those serial killer things, like some kind of deadly reading list. But heck, that psychic really should have worked on her powers of premonition, then Eddie wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give her a wring with that phone.”
The conversation suddenly grew violent at the mention of Shakespearian subterfuge and the ravens, who had been chirping amongst themselves, were stunned by the sound of shattering glass.
As the Brontes and Eddie began to expound upon their murderous deeds and the moment that led them to this night, the ravens were captivated. When the fighting began Balt turned to Phil,
“I’ll follow Ed, you stay with Lenore. Keep safe fluff for brains, I’ll be back once our raven loving author is alright.”
Balt flew after Edgar, winging wide of Charlotte and her gun. He landed in the library as Eddie landed a hit directly to Edgar’s face. While the raven wanted to help the grieving author he couldn’t find a way to make his way into the fray. Back in the dining room Phil stayed hidden within the shadows, but the moment Lenore was stabbed he flew toward her. In his concern he, much like Charlotte, had forgotten that Lenore was a ghost, but he was quickly reminded when her wound magically disappeared. As the Brontes gloated, Phil watched as Oscar snuck up behind them and shocked them into submission. With a happy chirp, Phil left Lenore and Oscar to revel in their victory over the sinister sisters and made his way to the library. Swooping in next to Balt, he appeared just in time to see Edgar take down Eddie with the rock they had seen fall from Annabel’s dress. The ravens watched as their author moved away from the body of Eddie. His eyes were wide, but instead of panicking, he seemed to have a plan in mind. He knelt down and, with a great show of force, pried the loose floorboard free. Working quickly Edgar began to shift and pull up boards so that there was a hole in the floor roughly Eddie’s length. Balt and Phil hopped toward him as he began to maneuver the corpse of his former rival into the irregular grave. Once he had pushed and prodded the officially dead Ed into the hole, Edgar began to move the boards back into place. The ravens flapped their wings in an attempt to fan the perspiring author’s brow and once he was done they swept their wings along the floor to hide any traces of dirt that had come up from the foundation.
A mere moment after they finished the sound of sirens filled the air. Edgar made his way toward the door, followed closely by the birds. While he and the remaining guests would have to speak to the police, the ravens were free to slip away to the rookery. Once they’d settled onto their familiar perches surrounded by their feathered friends, they realized just how exhausting the night had been. Balt tucked his head under his wing, but before he could fall asleep, Phil nudged him ever so slightly.
“With all the murders and mayhem tonight, I’m just wondering…”
“Well, what happens next?”
“My guess Phil, with a bunch of dead authors and a dead psychic floating around in the ether around here, we get ready for some spirited happenings. But for tonight I say we relax and try and get some shut eye. We’ll deal with whatever ghosts might be able to manifest whenever they decide to arrive. Now get to sleep birdbrain, it’s been a long night.”
With a slight ruffle of feathers Balt and Phil fell asleep to the rhythmic sound of a hundred ravens breathing in unison around them. Elsewhere in the house a similar rhythm echoed up from beneath the floorboards, hinting that the events of the evening were perhaps not quite over.
Talk to ya tomorrow,