Chapter 1- Raven- From 0 to B*tch

B*tch. A perfect word to use when describing me, if there ever was one. Other such words would include: cold, self-important, impatient, vengeful, and close-minded. Ask any guy you see about that Raven witch who lives down the street, and they’ll probably say “what, the prostitute? I slept with her last week, but I wouldn’t go see her out of hours if I were you. If she’s in a bad mood she’ll probably castrate you then blast you from here to Hades.” The girls will tell you the same, minus the ‘I slept with her’ bit. Well, most of them, anyway. 1

Don’t ask me why I’ve turned out this way. It’s not like I was born like it. I blame my predecessors, just like everyone else in my generation. They were the ones who built massive nuclear weapons to blow each other up with. Nowadays we call that era the ‘Nuclear race’. The time when all the superpowers were frantically trying to outdo each other in their constant scientific advances, not noticing that the so-called ‘third world countries’ were planning a little revenge of their own on their fellow humans for abusing their inability to support themselves. When China, the U.K, the U.S.A., Russia and Japan were all feuding amongst themselves, the third world slipped in and bombed them first. As soon as the information was out in the open, everyone had access to the nuclear weapons. The world everyone had strived so hard to create was plunged into war, and mass murder and inhumane slaughter became an everyday thing. In order to fuel the needs of the people and war, the 7 continents were stripped of their resources. When everything was gone, the world leaders finally saw the stupidity in what they had done, the pointless slaughter of human beings and the unnecessary hatred that had been created between the inhabitants of the different countries. They all killed themselves; I believe is what the history books say. A mass suicide. It was the right thing to do really. New leaders stepped up and herded the survivors into their home cities and sealed them away behind colossal walls, to try and do away with the past. And we live on, though God knows how. Uneducated prostitutes like me don’t know squat. All I need is the food, water, and medicinal supplies I trade for, no matter how they came about. If I think about it too much my brain starts to hurt.2

So that, in a nutshell, is the root of all my troubles. My society, and my past. Growing up with no parents probably didn’t do jack sh*t, either. It’s surprising what you don’t learn without them around, and I’m not talking about all that intellectual stuff like science, and reading, and maths. It’s the whole ‘making friends’ thing, and how you should act, and all that emotional stuff. In all the old stories of childhood, when one kid’s mean to another, it’s the parental figure who came over and told said child about hurting other’s feelings. I never had that, so I know I can be really insensitive sometimes. Even towards the people I did manages to make friends with. My posse, my gang, whatever you want to call them. I’ve known them for years, longer than they’ve known me, I’m sure. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve nearly lost them, through some mistake I’ve made or some idiotic decision to say something I know will hurt them. But somehow, they’ve stuck by me. 3

Dai was the one I met first. We trained as assassins together. As you’ve probably gathered, I’m out of that business now. I trained for 2 years, from age 10-12, then I worked for the powerful politicians in London’s upper levels who wanted rivals taken out for 3 years. I can still remember my first kill. It’s not the sort of thing you can forget. After all the physical training I had in how to make it quick and clean, and all the emotional training I had so I wouldn’t loose my cool, my conscience kicked in. I’m not sure what did it. Maybe it was the fact that the guy had a wife and 3 kids, one around my age. All I know is, when it came the time to do the deed and I had him alone in the depths of his superficial garden, I couldn’t pull the trigger. So he turns around, sees me, and I have to loose a whole round into his chest to shut him up. Bad move. It was messy and slow. To make sure the job was done I had to stay and watch him drown in his own blood. I don’t think I ever dared hesitate again. Dai was really supportive though. He sat down and told me how he’d done exactly the same thing on his first kill, then took me out for a nice binge-drinking spree.4

I got tired of killing when I turned 15, so I packed it in. I’d love to say it was because of some sentimental thing, like I couldn’t stand to take any more lives or sh*t, but really it was just because I was bored. I’ve always been a bit of a thrill-seeker. I need change to keep me on my toes. It was then that I went into my current profession, prostitution. Sounds nasty, right? Wrong. It’s not all that bad when you look at it how I do. It’s good pay for those who look good enough, and not to sound bigheaded, I’m what men would call ‘easy on the eyes’. So I’m not that hard off anymore. And I’m still in the game now, getting paid to…. yeah. And it’s not even like there’s that many older men around either, so it’s all good sex. Because of the great fire of London that happened 10 odd years ago, most of the 30+ population was wiped out. Mostly our own fault, really. The different generations lived in separate areas of London, and it was that part that got set on fire. That’s how my parents died, and I lost my memory. As you can see, it has come back, but still, I spent 2 years if my life regaining everything I lost. I might even still have more to remember. When you loose your memory, how are you supposed to remember if there’s something you’ve forgotten?5

I suppose there’s things even someone as skilled in magic as me can’t do. I’m the local priestess in my area, the one everyone turns to for magical help. I heal, I curse, I see into the future, I throw witch fire. To everyone who knows me, I’m near invincible, and I have a reputation amongst the more skilled witches as the one who’ll flame your *ss if you get too cocky, or if you offend one of my companions. Not that they can’t defend themselves. I just like playing the role of protector. It takes my mind off things, and gives me something to…well, live for, I suppose. It gives me a purpose.6

I’ve had to overcome so many things in order to finally trust my friends, and it’s taken a lot for them to do the same for me. I thought I was done with the whole ‘make new friends, trust new friends’ thing. I thought I had a stable life, which would burn out in a good 20 years at least from too many drugs and took much alcohol, and I would die in the slums of my home. Unfortunately, I was completely wrong. God, it took a lot for me to admit that.7