Woods of the Raven Read Online Mary Calmes

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
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“What’s with that?” Cass wanted to know, standing beside Delia, watching me put my hair back up. “Why is there straw in your hair?”

“I was overseeing the cornfield maze for the harvest festival. I do it every year because it used to have one way in and one way out, and you had to complete the maze to extricate yourself from the damn thing.”

Cass squinted at me. “Why is that a problem? Isn’t that the point of a maze?”

“For the minotaur, certainly, though I think with some better parenting he would have been all right.”

“I agree,” Cass said, smiling for the first time. “He got the short end of the stick.”

“So did Ariadne,” Delia chimed in. “I mean, come on. Theseus was a jerk.”

“One hundred percent agree. But as to our maze and not the one in Crete, I was concerned about the parents. You have to think, what if a kid vomits on the way in or has to pee? You wouldn’t want to have to do the whole maze to find a bathroom.”

“That makes sense,” Delia agreed. “Well, you look a bit better now.”

“A bit?” I said, trying for disgruntled.

I got a smile from both of them then, which was good.

“When we move the bales around, pieces fly off, and all of us end up looking like we fell into haystacks. Thanks for telling me I looked ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous,” Delia said thoughtfully. “Just…unexpected. So kids needing to use the bathroom or throwing up were the only reasons you’re in charge of the maze?”

“There are others. Like what if someone had an anxiety attack halfway in and had to get out but there was no way until they reached the end? That could be very upsetting and even triggering.”

“You’re right,” Cass said. “That one I get.”

“But the town council did not. It took several people going to individual members and everyone agreeing on the person to oversee it.”

“And you got nominated?” Cass asked.

“I did.”

“How long have you been the man in charge?” Delia wanted to know.

“Three years. And I will tell you that, while it now has more exits, it’s a lot harder as well.”

“I bet kids with drones could cheat,” Cass offered.

“They could, but they don’t. The fun is figuring it out.”

Cass nodded. “Are there people who jump out at you and try and scare you?” She made a face. “I hate that.”

“No, for Sam—Halloween, we have a haunted carriage house and a scare walk that’s fun. You have to make your way down a path at night between themed buildings. There’s a zombie one, and a New Orleans vampire one and so on, but that’s only up to Halloween. The hay maze is jump scare-free,” I assured them, and then turned to Delia. “Now, will you tell me why you were upset, because I’m onto you asking me about other stuff to try and change the subject.”

She bit her bottom lip. “You got that, huh?”

I waggled my eyebrows for her. “Yeah, I’m not stupid.”

She glanced at Cass and then back at me. “It’s a long story. You probably don’t have time to—”

“I have time,” I promised her. “And I love long stories.”

Delia nodded.

“So,” I asked, “do you want to come inside or stand out here?”

“Out here, if that’s okay.”

“It’s fine for me. I like the chilly air, and it smells like fire out here with everyone running their chimneys this time of year.”

“Is that what that is?” Cass asked. “I was wondering.”

“Yep,” I said, walking to the railing and leaning on it, taking in the view. “The river is rising with all the rain. It looks cool, right?”

They both agreed that the rapids made it look both scary and amazing.

“Okay, so hit me,” I prodded Delia.

“And you’ll keep it between us?”

“If I can,” I replied honestly. “As long as it’s not something I think could hurt you. Then I’d have to tell your aunt because for one, it’s the right thing to do, and for two, I respect her too much to keep secrets from her.”

“That’s fair,” she agreed but didn’t say anything more.

“D,” Cass implored.

“I feel dumb,” she told her friend.

“It’s not dumb. Just tell him.”

Delia took a breath. “Okay, so a year ago,” she began softly, “my parents died in a car accident. They were hit by a drunk driver on their way to pick me up from the airport.”

I was quiet, just listening.

“I was supposed to be gone a whole other week on this trip to Paris, but I got super homesick and wanted to come home early, so I did, but if I hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been on the road and—”

“May I interrupt?”

She nodded.

“When you told them you wanted to come home early, were they happy or sad?”

“That has nothing to do with—”

“Please,” I insisted. “Humor me.”

“They were happy, but—”

“Is it possible that you’re blaming yourself for circumstances outside your control? Don’t you think the person you should blame for the death of your parents is the person who chose to drink before getting behind the wheel of a car?”


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