An Inquisition: Crows Among Doves

DEDICATION

To Richard. Without your endless expectations, your hatred, and making me homeless for no reason, I would never have found a  reason to carry on spiting you.

praise for kristin james

...a story that needs to be told... - James Gallno (on Crows Among Doves)

...a book you simply can’t put down. K James is a splendid writer with an immense way of capturing words: an amazing author with great potential. - A Daniells

1 Every crow finds another

First, the legs start to feel hollow. Then, the arms freeze up. It’s an awfully peculiar sort of pain, one that swells from the outside in, and once it’s in... well, the pain never truly goes away, not really. But after a while, the pain seems to fade. The odd sort of numbness appears to be vanishing into nothingness, almost like it won’t kill... of course, it’s a false sense of security. Not even God could bring a brief reprieve from it, and not even the Devil himself could conjure something more cruel.

As she stumbled, twisted, contorted tress passed by her. For every step she took, the pain made her take several steps back. She couldn’t pinpoint the source of the pain, but the aching, the pins-and-needles feeling, and the stabbing sensation would not leave her be. Walking, running, falling... all movements gave her the same agony; but she knew she had to move, she knew in her bones.

The sky above her appeared a coppery red, dotted with black specks of dust, broken up by the veins of black clouds. The world around her was not the world she knew.

Vivid colors had been drained from existence, the beauty of a perpetually changing natural world was broken, changed into an ongoing, ever-waking nightmare... the flawed perfection of the world around her was not the same—it was her nightmare. Snow beneath her feet didn’t feel cold to her. Emie’s naked body was feverishly hot, acute pains spreading across her burning flesh, yet everything else was numb. Everything except that excruciating agony—and all she could hope for was death.

It was the middle of an abnormally cold night in the middle of Alaska, and she was fleeing from something she simply couldn’t see, a being that had already crawled inside her skin, carving out pieces of her bones, replacing her muscles with something much more sinister. Somehow, she had not remembered who she was, or what she was fleeing from, but the pressing urgency of the danger, no, perhaps the pressing urgency of the pain, reminded her that she was in trouble. Trouble like she’d never had to face before, an unseen enemy gaining on her, hunting her, but in her heart, she felt a bizarre sense of security.

Suddenly, everything just... stopped. No pain, no nothing. The gnawing sensation at her feet had faded. The feeling of someone shredding her flesh into pieces around her neck and her shoulder had faded... but there was one thing that still hurt her. It was minuscule. Tiny. Hardly noticeable. There was a slight feeling of hunger, nestled deep in the pit of her stomach. But for those brief moments, those fleeting seconds without pain, she focused on herself, on the world around her. All she’d done was blink: the world had changed back, the bloodied sky with its charred black moon had changed, no longer was it a disgusting nightmare, but rather the pale pink of promise.

Was it over? Had she died? Her entire body shook with shivers as though a tremor had disturbed her from below, and her body fell to the floor. Her fingers would not move, not at first. And the fever subsided. Her breathing was uneasy, curiously so. Nothing made sense, but she was certain that she was dead. After all, what sort of illness would come on so quickly, only to vanish so suddenly?

Light specks of snow began to fall around her, the cool flakes comforting to her. Though her skin wasn’t as warm as it had been, she felt... strange. As though the fire inside her had been doused, but the embers were still very much alive, warming her unnaturally. The world, it seemed, was confusing. Though her memories had been blanked out, she attempted to remember where she was, but the pain returned, only it was different. She knew she was alive. She knew she’d survived.

Her hands began to move properly again, and she pushed the hair out of her face, shuddering, her eyes darting around the forest, looking for something to help her remember... but there was nothing. Her body was entirely naked, and there were no items on her person that could help her. Slowly, she crawled to a tree nearby and held herself against it, unable to stand, hardly able to breathe, struggling to move at all.

With every breath she took, her ribs felt as though they were cracking out of place, falling into small shards around her lungs, constricting her. Her eyes closed, and tears rolled down her face. Gentle bumps along her spine dug into the tree as she leaned against it, the silence broken only by her whimpers, and the light chirping of birds who had no doubt witnessed her transformation into something... grotesque.

Just then, there was an incredibly familiar feeling, one of warmth and love and care—there was a hand on her shoulder, and she instantly knew who it was, even if she couldn’t remember herself through the pain. He stood in front of her and she opened her eyes, staring at him, hoping he’d help her... she knew he would, she knew him. She knew who he was and she knew that he was both the cause and the cure of what she had been feeling. He squatted down, grabbing her chin with force, pushing her face from side to side, examining her. As she placed a finger on his cheek, she knew that she would soon be out of the forest, soon be somewhere she could rest. There was something primal about the meeting, from her lack of language to his force with her... but she wanted to remember. It was familiar. He was familiar. He was more than familiar—he was the precise reason she was alive, he was the precise reason she’d died.

Do you know who I am? His voice resonated within her, and she knew he was there to help her. Though she didn’t know his name, she knew the feelings he’d given her—everything from pain to pleasure, from hatred to lust... She knew him as her savior. Come on, he said softly, holding a hand out to help her up, but she didn’t want to get up. No... she wanted to watch, to examine, to know.

She shook her head and examined his features; sharp jaw, bright blue eyes, small nose and thick lips with the obvious dent of a piercing. Medium-length wavy brown hair pulled back into a sort of bun... she knew him and the feelings he was associated with. He gently wrapped his fingers around her arms and pulled her up, carrying her bridal-style, back towards where she’d first opened her eyes, first feeling the intense sickness.

The walk back wasn’t particularly long, but it was cold—the warmth she’d felt before he’d gotten to her had subsided, and she felt everything tenfold. Snow had started to fall much heavier by the time they’d gotten back to the cabin. Everything was a mess: chairs on the floor, broken glass, broken bottles, one of the sofas were upturned. There was another familiar face in the lounge, with them... but when she looked at him, she felt nothing but a burning anger. As she stood, completely-naked, there was a strange and overwhelming desire to launch herself at him, the urge to tear him limb from limb. But she couldn’t move.

She felt paralyzed by the man who was holding her. He cautiously guided her through the hall and into the bedroom, and gently sat her down on the edge of the soft bed. Around her, the air was swelteringly warm, almost suffocating her just as the nipping coldness of the air outside had done. The man looked at her with concern, and she examined him likewise—she was rummaging through her brain, simply trying to figure it out. There were many things she’d forgotten, but the issue was that she knew those memories were there, simply clouded by a dark film of gauze, covering everything inside her mind, things only vaguely visible.

Make a cup of tea, Clayton! The loudness of his voice shook her, and she stared at him, hoping that he’d help her—she was scared, lost, confused. Much like a small child lost in a large store, she only wanted to know where her parents were. Hopelessly looking for answers and assistance, never truly knowing where she was. He wrapped an arm around her, and picked up a thick white robe from off of the floor, then standing up in front of her and helping her to get into it. Your name is Emie. Do you remember?

Her name was familiar. However, even that was locked from her—she was agitated, she felt as though he was lying, causing her to forget. But there was something about him that she trusted. Perhaps it was the friendly face, a face she wanted to trust for no truly discernible reason.

Emie?

Emie. Emie Leigh Jones. You live in Blossom Grove, with your mother, Amanda.

Amanda.

Yes, and my name is Joshua.

Joshua. I know you.

Yeah, you do. You’re my girlfriend, and unfortunately, I had to change you into... something else. You also know Clayton. He used to teach you about people like me.

Clayton.

Exactly.

The man from before, the one she wished to destroy, came walking in, with a mug of hot tea. There was a brief moment where there was a glimmer of purity peeking through the darkness, something was coming back to her. She wanted to hurt him, still, but the urge was... diminishing.

Clayton is my friend, he’s a very good friend, and without him you would be dead now. He paused for a moment, taking a sip of the warm drink. Clayton left the room and closed the door behind him, without a single word said. This is normal, Em, you’ll feel a bit... cloudy. But it should be coming back to you soon. You had a bit of a bad reaction to the whole thing, but you’ll be okay.

I’m Emie. I’m Emie Jones. I live with mom, and I live with... you?

Josh laughed. No, you don’t live with me. You spend a lot of time with me, but you... you don’t live with me.

Okay. Emie sipped at her drink. She could feel that it was burning her tongue, but that didn’t seem to bother her at all. There was no pain, to her. What happened to me?

There were some bad people, who tried to hurt you. We had to kill them, but you’d been injured. There was no other way.

What do you mean?

You... he sighed. You changed. You asked me once, you asked me once to turn you into something like me. I promised I wouldn’t, but there really was no other way to do this.

She stared forward, fixated on a single point on the wall. Some things were already coming back to her. Josh. Her boyfriend. Clayton. His friend. Amanda. Her mother. Rose... his sister. She exhaled and then looked at Joshua.

I remember, some things. I remember you, Clayton... mom, and... I remember... your sister.

"I wish you didn’t, you might feel really emotional for a few days while you change. Feeling angry about her will only harden the process. You need to focus on me, alright? Things may feel strange, but you need to stay away from people you know. If you stay with me, I can try and teach you what to do,