Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 3

BLURRED LINES

It was nearly three in the morning and Brent Stratford hadn’t found a single thing in this apartment that gave him any useful information. Only a framed photo of Sarah and her mother on the front porch of their Seattle home. He’d seen that picture dozens of times and never asked her about it. Any mention of Sarah’s past usually resulted in her shutting down or getting irritated. They had talked very little about her old life while they were getting to know each other and being the man he thought he was, he had respected that. All she had ever wanted was a fresh start. Something less painful. That’s all anyone that’s been through some sort of trauma would want, right?

He wouldn’t know. By all accounts, Brent had lived a pretty pampered life. What the public didn’t know about the closed doors in his childhood mansion and the things that went on behind them, usually stayed that way where his father was concerned. Brent was no politician and had never wanted to be. He had worked hard to get accepted into Harvard, and then worked even harder once he got there. Of course, it wasn’t a secret that he was born into family money, but he’d be damned if he left this world with anyone believing that he gave a shit about it. This task from his bastard father surely wasn’t helping that matter.

At first, he thought dating an “out-of-the-box” chick was a pleasant change of scenery compared to the snotty rich girls he’d blown through in college. When Conrad had put Sarah St. James on his radar, he didn’t think it would be more than a few dates, maybe a lay or two and just hand over whatever information his father had been looking for. But when he’d sat down in her booth at the blood drive, Brent quickly realized that she was different. He liked her. He had never been a fan of her smoking, or the fact that she could put down a pack a day, but he tolerated it. Everything else about her was stimulating and the first time they’d slept together he’d sworn it was the best he’d ever had—and meant it. Sarah had proved to be as crazy as she looked in the sheets and it was a far cry from what he was used to. Everything about her was a far cry from what he was used to.

The longer they’d dated, the more eager his father became, and then last year Conrad had visited Brent’s high-rise apartment in the fancier part of the city and gave him a diamond the size of Manhattan to put on her finger. Brent had initially refused and wanted to propose only when he felt certain Sarah was the one. He wanted that moment in his life to be just as special for him as it was for whoever he chose to be his wife. His father never cared. Sarah was a job. A job gone awry. And the only person that benefited from this job was his father. Brent still didn’t even know the reason he was asked to do this in the first place. There was plenty about the senator—dark, heinous shit—that even his own son didn’t know … and didn’t want to know.

The only thing in this apartment that he could possibly deign to get anything valuable from was Sarah’s laptop. In the short time he’d been at the hospital tonight, he’d spotted it sitting under her books on the cart next to her bed. There was nothing more he could think to do here, short of tearing the whole place apart. He wasn’t doing that shit just to come up empty. Brent blew out a frustrated breath and set up any misplaced items back in their rightful place, threw on his jacket, and left.

Rhaena knew her chewing was driving him as crazy as the sound of his stupid chair made her. She made sure to be as obnoxious as possible as she stuffed another greasy french fry into her mouth. Athan side-eyed her as he stared at his monitor.

“I don’t know how you have room for how much shit you eat in a day,” he finally said without looking at her.

“Oh, he speaks.” Rhaena grinned, curling another fry between her teeth. “It only took you three hours.”

“I’m busy.” She picked up an overcooked bit and threw it at him, hitting him just below his eye. Athan whirled at her. “What, Rhaena?”

“What is with you today? Are we gonna talk about this case? Maybe include your partner in some of this mysterious work?”

“I told you we’d talk about it later.”

“It is later, asshole.” She went to sip from her tumbler and found it empty … again. Athan turned back to his computer as she unnervingly raised from her chair and stomped off to the break room. She watched him through the blinds for a moment and dropped her mouth open when she saw him lean over her take-out box, steal a french fry, and ease back into his seat. Athan looked around and held it to his nose, sneering at it before biting the end off and chewing. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing as he swallowed it down and finished the rest. She snapped out of it and cursed when she realized her cup had started overflowing with chilled water and made quick work of cleaning the mess before rushing back to her desk.

Athan wiped the grease from his fingers on his ripped jeans. Any evidence of what she’d just seen disappeared. She stared a hole through the side of his face until he glanced toward her. “Please, stop. It’s fucking annoying.”

“Let’s call it a night, bud.”

“I’ve still got an hour left. I’ve got shit to do.”

“Yeah, you got that right.” Rhaena stood, pulling on her blazer, and turning off the monitor. “Let’s go. We need to talk. And this time, you are riding with me.” She clacked around the edge of Athan’s desk and shoved past him, switching off his computer and glancing down at the file he tried to close before she saw it. She slammed her palm down, keeping the folder open and stared down at the girl in the photo. “Who is she?”

“She’s our vic. Weren’t you in the same room earlier?”

“Who is she to you? ” Rhaena was so close their noses nearly touched and Athan scooted back, his eyes becoming an ice blue flame as he shot out of his chair. He swiped the folder from beneath her hand and shoved it into his desk drawer, grabbing his keys as he stormed toward the elevator. She followed him, snatching her dinner and her cup as she rounded her desk. They stepped inside with two other uniforms and said nothing to one another even on the way through the parking lot. Athan didn’t argue, to her surprise, as he waited for her to unlock the door to the truck.

“If anything happens to my bike …” he growled, slamming the door shut.

“Would you relax, dude?”

Rhaena threw the truck in reverse and backed out of her parking spot, squealing the tires as she sped out onto the street. Car horns sounded all around them at her lack of consideration for traffic. Athan didn’t flinch. His arm hung from the “oh-shit” handle above the window, and he stared forward as she periodically glanced his way. After a few miles of silence, Rhaena pulled into a drive-thru at a burger joint downtown.

“You can’t possibly be that famished.”

“Oh, it’s not for me.” She smirked, looking over at him as she stopped behind two other cars in line. “It’s for you.” He met her stare and drew his brows together.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Don’t be a fucking liar!” she spat, tossing her take-out box across the space. It exploded, soggy french fries flying everywhere. He reared back and threw his hands into the air.

“What the fuck, Rhaena!”

“My thoughts exactly! I saw you!” She moved the gear into park and turned, leaning her back against the driver’s side window and crossing her arms. “You stole one of those when I went to the break room. You ate it.” Athan’s jaw clenched, and he stared at her. “Since I haven’t seen you violently hurling up your dusty ass guts, I’m feeling pretty confident there’s some shit you’re not telling me, Kane.”

“Not here.” He rolled his window down and threw out bits of her discarded dinner.

“Then where?”

“Home.”

Rhaena pulled out of the drive-thru and neither of them spoke the whole way to their building. They didn’t speak even after Athan unlocked the door to his apartment and let her in, instead going straight for Poe’s cage and letting the bird out to stretch his silky wings. She took up a spot on the leather couch against the wall and crossed a leg over, watching her partner as he blatantly ignored her. Rhaena wasn’t sure how much more forward she’d need to be to get him to open up .

Plan B, then.

She leaned forward, shrugging off her blazer and kicking off her heeled boots. Athan paused, setting his bird on top of the large cage and never turning his body toward her while he glanced over. Rhaena pretended not to see him staring while she unbuttoned her white blouse, her lacy blue bra peeking out from beneath it.

“You know what clears my head?” She purred, raising off the couch and dropping the shirt to the floor. “A good workout.” Her hands moved to the clasp of her tight slacks, unfastening them, and sliding them down her smooth bare thighs. There was barely a scrap of matching blue lace covering her lower half. Athan stared at her as she stepped out of her pants and moved toward him. “Come work me out, partner. ”

“Put your clothes back on.” He turned his face forward and braced a hand on the bird cage.

“Stop overthinking it. Take it out on me.” She stepped closer. “Whatever it is.”

Athan lowered his face toward the carpet, gripping the cage harder with his inked fingers and sighing deeply through his nose. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“ Because. I killed that girl. Our vic. She’s all I can think about.” His ice blue eyes raised to meet hers over the leather on his extended arm. Rhaena exhaled. “I can’t fuck you and think about someone else. Put your clothes on.” He pushed off the cage and walked toward the hallway, disappearing behind the wall, and leaving her alone in the middle of the living room. She’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a slight ache in her chest at the dismissal.

Rhaena dressed, opting to leave her boots off and her blazer laying where she’d left it as she padded into the kitchen to pour them both some whiskey. Athan finally returned a few moments later, joining her at the corner of the counter in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants. She handed him a glass of amber liquid.

“What happened?” she asked quietly, not looking at him as she brought her glass to her mouth. He lit a cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke.

“I lost control. Saw her at the bar when I went to talk to Dahlia. I’d already felt it building up before I’d left her office. I thought I could hold out, but then I saw her.” He took a deep swig from his cup. “Something was different this time—I heard voices.”

“Voices?” Rhaena crumpled her brows and looked over at him. He nodded once.

“I left and was planning on heading home, but I didn’t. I felt drawn to her. I ended up hiding out until I saw her leave by herself. I tried to stop myself from going after her but …” He bowed his head, pulling on the cigarette. “I fed on her. She hit that street like a stone, Rhaena. I know she was dead. I checked her pulse.”

“What else?” Rhaena pushed, knowing there was more.

“Her blood changed me. My heart … it’s …”

“It’s what. ”

“It started beating. When her heart stopped, mine started beating again and now …”

Rhaena’s brows shot up and she set her glass down on the counter. “Holy shit … are you human?”

“No,” Athan answered quickly, downing his glass and throwing it to the tile floor of the kitchen. It busted, shards scattering across it. He reached down, picking up a large piece and slicing a nasty cut across the top of his forearm. She watched as it slowly began mending, threading itself back together as if it had never been. She wondered for the first time how difficult it must be to tattoo him. “When I came home, I slept. I dreamt about her. I got the tattoo the next night. Dreamt about her then, too. I took her necklace. When I went to question her tonight, she told me that the stone was her mother’s ashes. I swear the thing whispers to me. Even when I’m not near it, I can hear it in my mind.”

“You really thought she was dead?”

“I know she was.”

“Well, obviously she wasn’t if you were able to question her.” She grabbed a broom and dustpan from the corner and started sweeping up the glass. “What did she say to you at the hospital?” Athan dragged on his cigarette, keeping it between his teeth as he knelt down to help.

“She recognized me from the club. She saw me when I left and didn’t forget it. She doesn’t know it was me in the alley and she only remembers being alone before I fed on her.”

“Nothing after?”

“I didn’t get that far. She passed out on me. She’s still really weak. We didn’t make it back down the hallway before she fell.”

Rhaena paused and looked at him.

“Wait—what do you mean, back down the hallway? ” She stood the broom on its end and leaned on the stick. He raised his head and looked up at her, taking the cigarette between his middle and forefinger.

“I took her outside for a cigarette.”

“You did what?! ” Rhaena snapped, peering down at him in frustration. “What else did you do, Kane?” She shifted her weight onto one hip. “Did you tuck her in? Read her a bedtime story?” He swallowed hard and didn’t answer, sliding the cigarette back into his mouth and taking the broom and dustpan from her. As he started sweeping the glass into the pan, Rhaena planted her hands on her hips and slowly shook her head. “Go ahead and get too close to this shit. Cap’s gonna throw us off this case, and prying eyes are gonna start figuring out everything we’ve covered up. You know where that’s gonna leave you?”

She could tell he was struggling. Knew there was little he could do to filter through all that had happened and knew there wasn’t much she’d be able to do to help him tonight. Above all, she knew that whatever changes that girl’s blood had made in his body needed to be nailed down and figured out.

“What about sunlight?” she asked, watching him as he dumped the pan into the trash bin.

“I only put my hand into it a day ago. I’m not sure if my whole body will be resilient to it yet.”

“Well, we need to figure out what your boundaries are.”

“I know that.”

Athan crossed his arms in front of him and leaned against the counter while he stared down at the floor. She wished there was some way she could—

“I’m going home. I’ll sleep a few hours and go in during the day. You need to stay away from her, Athan. No matter what it is you feel. I’ll go to the hospital after I get our shit from the precinct and see what else I can figure out.” He didn’t respond and Rhaena dropped her hand from her hip, moving past him and gathering her things from the living room. Poe screeched at her as she walked toward the door, and she rolled her eyes. She had her hand on the doorknob when he spoke from behind her.

“I’m sorry … about earlier,” he said softly.

She didn’t turn to look at him. “It’s fine.” Rhaena turned the knob and walked out barefoot, letting the door slam shut behind her.

This was a dream. She knew that. It had to be a dream if her mother’s kind face was before her. Her rich dark hair blew in the wind from the open window of the car as she laughed and switched the lyrics of the song playing on the radio to something stupid, causing Sarah to snort while she giggled at her. Not just a dream, she realized. A memory. That was two months before Katherine St. James fell ill from a strange virus that ended up claiming her life. Flashbacks of candid, happy moments trickled through her vision and Sarah welcomed them, easing into the comfort it gave her to see her mom again. It had been such a long time since she’d lost her that the sound of her voice and even the way she carried herself had started to become blurry. Sarah hated that feeling. It was bad enough that she had disappeared in the physical sense, but to disappear in every other way—

A chilling cold that could only be described as the touch of death crept over her as the images in her subconscious flashed to a memory of Katherine lying within a thick plastic barrier in a hospital bed, warded off by CDC agents and nurses in hazmat suits as they funneled in and out of a zipped-up bubble around her. Sarah wasn’t allowed close. Her mother’s sickening gray face was glistening under a sheen of sweat as she struggled to breathe, peering at Sarah through the plastic and reaching for her with weak fingers. She had died moments later.

The next flash took her into a bright hallway where Sarah remembered every word of the conversation with a government prick who refused to release her mother’s body for a funeral. The virus was foreign and unidentified, and they weren’t willing to risk the safety of the people for a memorial service. It single-handedly removed Katherine’s dignity and all respect Sarah had for public officials died with her. They had ordered her remains to be incinerated, the threat gone, and it was still nearly three months before Sarah was given a small amount of her ashes. The rest of her mother was carefully contained and studied, though she was never told where.

Sarah struggled against the drugs that kept her locked in a deep sleep. She begged whoever could hear her to bring her out. Wake her up. Especially as the next montage of memories began flickering into her mind. They’d drugged her. She hadn’t known who they were or where she was. They had her strapped to a table in a white room, a blinding light keeping her from seeing much else. Her mouth was gagged and her head fuzzy. She had tried to scream as a needle plunged into her arm but wasn’t able to make a sound beyond muffled gurgling. But this time—

Sarah’s hoarse voice wailed as she jolted awake, tearing the IV from her arm and scrambling beneath the covers of her hospital bed. Brent surged forward, trying desperately to calm her and let her know who he was and where she had been for the past few days. Nurses hurtled into the doorway and Sarah hyperventilated, backing as far into the bed as she could manage and screaming for her mother. Brent conceded, a horrified look on his face as the nurses held her down and forced her back into sleep.

Mid-day was an unkind hour to have this meeting. As the rest of the coven slept within the ranks underground, Dahlia Van Hausen impatiently waved an ankle beneath her desk. A knock on her door sounded and it creaked open, the face of her new toy peeking from behind it.

“Your Grace.” Devin dipped a chin, every mark of the tryst they’d had on top of this desk an hour ago utterly gone from his exposed skin. The scent of him and everything she’d made him do to her still lingered. Dahlia rolled her eyes.

“Send him in.”

He opened the door wider to allow Senator Stratford through it, the gangly mortal fool crookedly smiling as he entered. “Miss Van Hausen, a pleasure as always.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same. Have a seat, senator.” She waved a hand toward the empty leather chair across from her. He made himself a bit too comfortable for her liking as he pulled off his stupid cardigan and sat, crossing an ankle over his knee.

“This place is quiet during the day,” he joked, stroking the gray stubble of his chin with his fingers.

“Yes, well … you’d better have something grand to tell me at this hour or I can promise you it’ll get a lot more quiet. What have you learned?”

“Still working on it. My sources have finally pinpointed the details crucial to figuring out how to manipulate the virus, but we’re still trying to get our hands on a specimen. I’ve got the key player in the door at EverLife, but we’ve run into a small problem.”

“And what’s that, dare I ask?” Dahlia leaned her face against her pale knuckles.

“That key player almost died outside your club this weekend. You need to tighten the leash on your lackeys.” The shrew gave her a pointed look.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The girl. She’s a carrier. One of yours attacked her Friday night and we almost lost one of the most important pieces to this little arrangement. It was hard enough securing that position at the main laboratory. Not to mention the strings I had to pull to cover our asses with the funding.”

Dahlia straightened in her chair, somehow still able to look down her nose at the senator who fidgeted beneath her stare. “I don’t know how a spineless little sprout like you would presume to accuse me of not handling my business discreetly, but I can assure you … if some human snack was found outside my door this weekend, I would have known about it. And I can also assure you it wasn’t anyone in this coven.”

“Her attack suggests otherwise. Bitten on the neck like every other you’ve left in these streets, only difference being that she actually survived.”

“That’s not possible.”

The senator smiled. “As long as she stays that way, I could care less.”

“If she survived then she was turned. And if she’d been turned, she no doubt would have burned the moment they opened a window and let the light in.”

“As I said … she’s a carrier. All the more reason for us to figure this out together and bring you out of the darkness. Which I’ll do. As long as that money starts filtering into my office and secures my spot in the senate.”

Dahlia huffed a laugh through her nose. “My lackeys … took care of that problem at EverLife a few weeks ago. Nothing leading back to us. The blood was successfully contaminated, and the supply dwindled down to nothing. I’ve already had a meeting with the one I have dealing with that. Bodies are growing in number, and you’ll have your money and your heroism to flaunt soon enough.”

“Then I guess we’re done here.” Conrad clapped his palms together and stood, hooking a finger in the collar of his cardigan, and tossing it over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d turn a TV on in this place every once in a while. It’s always best to stay in the loop. Good day, Miss Van Hausen.” He turned and Dahlia pressed a button on her desk to summon Devin who opened the door. She gracefully rose from her chair, tossing her platinum locks over her thin shoulders.

“Oh, senator?” Conrad paused, looking back toward her. “If you ever question me or my methods again, then you’ll be in a loop. And I’ll enjoy watching you hang yourself from it.” She smiled sweetly at him, and he swallowed, adjusting his hideous tie before stepping out the door.

Yellow paint sputtered like a half-empty mustard bottle over a palette in Wren’s hand. She’d been staring at the canvas in front of her for over two hours now, and the paint she’d brushed across it had long since dried. The sounds of a shredding guitar blared in her earbuds as she mixed a color with her brush. Denver looked on, his bright green eyes following her every move as he stared at a painting that looked just like him. She smiled at the black cat as she started painting highlights in the eyes on the canvas. Wren had left the tattoo shop early today, unable to get her mind off the phone call that filled her very soul with overwhelming guilt.

She should have left with Sarah that night.

The hunky asshat from the club had proven to be worthless in bed anyway. She reminded herself that was the reason she only dated musicians. She had been a horrible friend. It broke her heart. They were supposed to be celebrating Sarah and her big job, but she’d managed to make even that about herself. That job had meant the world to Sarah and was the entire reason that she’d even moved here, otherwise Wren would never have even known her. Sarah had been so desperate to figure out what had killed her mother—the only true family she’d had left—and had spent years studying and staying in while Wren popped in and out of thrasher bars and nightclubs spreading herself thinner than she’d ever meant to.

When Wren had got her big break, tattooing under one of Boston’s most popular artists, Sarah had been so proud. So supportive. They had gone out that night too, and she had made sure that Wren’s cup was never empty. She’d also made sure that she had a safe place to puke and a warm bed to crawl into when she’d had way too much. That was more than she could say for herself as she dabbed her brush across light green paint. There had to be some way she could make it up to her. Maybe once Sarah had healed up enough to withstand it, she could cover that nasty scar with a fresh tattoo, and she wouldn’t have to look at the reminder of Wren’s selfishness in the mirror every day.

Or maybe that was just an excuse for Wren not to have to be reminded of it.

A faint beep sounded through her earbuds and briefly hushed the sound of her music. She sat down the brush and palette, pulling her phone from the pocket of her skull and crossbones night pants. Her thumb swiped across the screen and a message popped up.

Bitch-boy Brent: Sarah’s having an episode at the hospital. Get here now .

“Shit.” Wren panicked, ripping her earbuds out and dropping her phone to the table. She ran barefoot to her room, Denver hopping off the stool next to the easel and chasing after her.

He had tried, but by about two o’clock that afternoon, Athan found himself unable to sleep. He lay shirtless in bed with an arm behind his head while he stared at the screen of his phone. Rhaena hadn’t texted or called. He half expected her not to, if for no other reason than his rejection when she’d stripped down in his living room hours ago. He could see the brief flash of hurt in her brown eyes before he’d split. He tried not to think about whether that sting was because of the way he’d bolted to his room, or because of what he’d said to her before he did it. They weren’t exclusive and had a mutual understanding that sleeping together every once in a while was complication enough without adding unchecked feelings into the mix. But despite that, he hadn’t slept with anyone else in nearly fifteen years after he’d gotten himself out from under Dahlia’s thumb.

He had been honest with Rhaena, at least. Any other time he likely would have accepted her invitation and had her screaming his name against the wall. But he couldn’t do that tonight. It seemed wrong to have another woman’s face haunting his mind while he was driving into someone that wasn’t her. He wondered if Rhaena had made it to the hospital yet. Wondered how the girl, that was somehow already changing his life, had been faring since he’d left her to her rest and recovery. His thumbs rested over the keyboard on the screen, and he tried to figure out a way to usher another apology without sounding too much like he cared. He wasn’t sure what kind of person that made him. He settled on something that would rile her up instead.

Me: hey … any chance you could grab me a Porterhouse steak and some ice cream on your way back?

His mouth curled up in the corner as three little dots bounced up and down above the keyboard.

Northwood: go fuck yourself bud.

As expected. He huffed a laugh and tossed his phone on the bed beside him, easing from beneath the sheet and stepping over to his bedroom window. The October sun would be beating down on this side of the building right now. He raised his hand to move the blackout curtain and hesitated, his fingertips brushing the stitching around the edges. What would it be like to feel sunshine again? To truly feel it when it wasn’t suicide to step out into it? He cautiously moved the curtain back—an inch … two … three. His eyes stung from the harshness of what little afternoon sun he’d let in, and he hid warily behind the safety of the curtain still in his grip. Athan’s phone dinged twice on his bed, breaking his concentration. He looked over toward it and then back to the foreign beam of light that shone before him.

He moved a shaking hand close to it and could already feel its warmth. How long had it been since he’d felt anything even close to that against his undead skin? Something ached in his chest. Without another attempt at trying to talk himself out of it, the shadow of his fingers cast itself along the floor and whatever feeling he’d initially felt roiling within his gut turned into calm, undiluted peace. He could almost weep. Maybe God hadn’t damned him after all. Maybe he’d sent the demon an angel—a second chance. Or maybe this gift was a temporary thing and if he didn’t attempt to receive it now, it would be gone forever.

Athan pulled the curtain further out, squinting against the intrusion of bright light as he slowly moved forward into it.

Moment of truth …

His pale, tattooed torso gleamed bright with sunlight. He shielded his eyes with a hand at his brow and looked down over himself. Unscathed. His chest heaved up and down and a single tear crept over his cheekbone. He let go of the curtain, swiping it away and pretending it never happened. No one would blame him for it had they seen it. Over two centuries in the dark and yet here he stood. It wasn’t enough. He pushed the dark curtain fully over, his bedroom filling with the one thing he cowered from all these years.

Athan unlocked the sliding glass door to his unused balcony and ripped the metal bar free of its spot along the track that kept it wedged shut. He slid it open, the crisp autumn air rushing in and kissing his skin as he stepped barefoot out onto the concrete deck. He breathed deeply, staring for a long moment down at his feet before slowly raising his eyes across Boston. And when he did—his breath caught in his throat.

It was hard not to think of the girl that had given him this. Hard not to agree with Rhaena when she had told him that he needed to stay away from her. Being around her would cause problems and she had been right. He couldn’t afford to get thrown off this case. It would ruin his livelihood and that of those that he could care less about, but also promised to protect. There was also that issue of the bargain he’d made with Dahlia, and the lingering promise of his freedom in the years to come that hung in the fucked up balance of his immortal life. As he stared over the city, utterly silent and eternally grateful … her face flashed across his mind.

“Thank you …” he breathed, unwilling to close his pale blue eyes.

Maybe this was best for everyone. He didn’t deserve the right to be in her company anyway.

Rhaena had gotten plenty of curious stares from her colleagues in the training center this morning when she took her frustration from Athan’s dismissal out on the dummy that sat half beaten to shreds over a mat in the back corner. The more she’d thought about how stupid she must have looked as she stood there nearly naked in his living room, the harder she hit. Rivulets of sweat trailed down her neck and chest as she threw punch after punch, wishing it had been his handsome face instead. She didn’t truly understand why she was so angry with him. They both knew what they were to each other. If she was being honest with herself, she’d admit that the honesty he’d offered about seeing that girl’s face over and over again in his mind had made her a little … jealous. She knew that the only other person he’d shared a bed with was someone who had hurt him. Someone who had seen him as nothing more than a pretty slave and forced him to do things against his will. She knew the sacrifices Athan had made to get himself out, and it ate at her.

But it had only been the two of them all these years and while she wasn’t immortal, Rhaena hardly aged. Had he been thinking of that girl in a way that would eventually lead their vic into his bed? Or was it just the guilt he felt for what he’d done to her and the fact that she was alive when she shouldn’t be? Everything about the situation was fucked. Either way … rejection sucks. She’d pushed past the burn in her muscles as the dummy’s head rocked back and forth from her continued assault. This needed to leave her system before she laid eyes on that girl in the hospital today. She’d have to get her shit together before dealing with all of Athan’s questions about her later, too.

Rhaena pondered that while she showered off in the women’s locker room. He shared a cigarette with her? What had that conversation been like? She’d have to feel her out when she got there. Ask her own questions. From the way Athan had looked at her as he’d knelt on the kitchen floor, he had already seemed like he was somehow attached. Rhaena had never seen that look in his eyes before. It was as if he hadn’t even realized that he wasn’t his usual, morally gray, brooding self anymore.

After she toweled off and dressed, she made her way to their desks to grab files and sign out their laptops. Captain Foley had snuck up behind her as she filled her tumbler in the break room, pouring his coffee and smiling over at her.

“I wish I had more detectives as dedicated as you, Gloves.”

“I appreciate it, sir. The case isn’t gonna figure itself out.” She snapped the lid on her cup and stole a straw from the container on the counter. Foley stirred milk into his coffee and leaned his back against the countertop.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, peering at her beneath lowered brows. She tried not to let on that it made her nervous.

“Of course, sir.”

“Did Kane seem a bit off to you yesterday? Anything I should be worried about? ”

Rhaena rubbed at her sore knuckles and pressed her mouth into a tight line. Athan hadn’t been as discreet about his shock as he’d thought. Or maybe he didn’t realize how gray his skin had looked when he’d opened that file in the captain’s office.

“No, sir. He’s fine. He’s got some personal issues he’s dealing with. I wouldn’t expect him to be forthcoming about any of that. He’s a pretty private person.”

Foley smiled. “Creepy sometimes, isn’t he?” Rhaena huffed a laugh.

“Maybe sometimes.”

“I need you both to be at your best with this case. Not to sound curt, but I could give a shit less about the personal lives of anybody in this precinct. That is, until it interferes with your work. I’m counting on you two to keep the feds off our backs and these vics off the street. Boston can’t afford to have a serial killer, and we can’t afford to let it happen.” His dark finger pointed at her as he spoke. Rhaena nodded.

“I understand, sir. We’ll figure this out.”

“I saw you signed out the computers. Where you headed?”

“To the hospital. Gonna go question the witness.”

Foley raised his brows. “I thought Kane was taking care of that yesterday?” Rhaena sipped from her straw.

“He did, but she’s still in pretty rough shape. He said she lost consciousness before he could finish. I have some questions of my own.”

“Yikes. Alright, then. I’ll leave you to it.” Foley paused in the doorway of the break room and looked back over his broad shoulder at her. “Oh, and Northwood?” Rhaena lifted her chin. “Straighten that arm a little more when you hit. You won’t have to ice those knuckles as often.” He smirked at her and continued to his office.

It wasn’t weird, she kept reminding herself as she drove uptown to the community hospital. Foley had seemed to enjoy watching her train and mentioned several times that she should have been in some branch of the armed forces. She didn’t know the extent of what the captain had seen or lived through in his years of service to his country. Rhaena supposed that was something a small part of her captain missed when he now sat behind a desk at the 12th. The fact that he took any notice at all made her feel a little proud. He made it obvious that he saw something in her that others didn’t, and she thrived on that. She wondered if that might have been her problem. Maybe she was living her life just seeking someone’s approval— anyone’s approval. She sighed deeply as she sat at the stoplight a few blocks away from the hospital entrance. Her loneliness was getting the better of her.

Her phone dinged and she looked down at it, swiping open the screen and reading the text from Kane. “What an idiot.” She smirked, checking the status of the traffic light as she texted back a snarky response. She pictured him at least smiling at it, knowing her own smile was the only reason he’d sent it. He felt bad about the way they’d left things, she could tell. This was the only way his personality allowed him to soften the blow. If she was being honest, she felt a bit guilty about being the reason for the blurred lines between them. It wasn’t Athan’s fault that he was fighting off the feelings they’d agreed they wouldn’t have, when she was making it difficult to hide her own. It had to put him in a hard place, and he was going through enough already. She needed him focused. She needed to focus. There wasn’t any room for this shit in their current situation. Rhaena wondered a moment later if he was up right now because he may have actually tried to eat real food. Wondered what else he might be testing while he was at home. She texted him again.

Me: it just occurred to me that you might actually be serious about food. I’m sorry, I’m not used to that yet.

Me: wanna start with something lighter? maybe a sandwich?

When he didn’t immediately respond, Rhaena tried not to think that maybe he’d taken her insult personally. Text messages never really relayed the right sort of meaning behind what people were actually trying to put off. Maybe he was taking a shower or rolled back over to try and sleep. She hoped he wasn’t doing something stupid.

Her heels clacked against the white tile floors of the hallway as she passed room after room, glancing inside each one and not seeing the girl that Kane was having so much trouble getting his mind off of. A nurse peered over at her from the desk, and she stepped up to it, sighing sharply and smiling.

“Who ya looking for, detective?” The nurse asked, chuckling.

“Sarah St. James?” The name tasted sour as it left her tongue. Jealousy was an evil little bitch. She didn’t even know this poor girl, and it wasn’t the victim’s fault that she was wrecked to within an inch of her life by … by her partner.

“Three doors down on the right. Need me to clear out the visitors?”

“No, no. Leave that to me. They might be useful. Thanks, Jenn.” The nurse gave her a confused look, but peered down at her name tag and smiled at Rhaena when she winked and made her way past the nurse’s station. Muffled voices stirred in the room as she approached and she stilled when she heard the male’s voice. Her hand raised to knock on the open door. “Excuse me? I’m looking for Miss St. James?” Three faces turned to meet hers.

“Seek and you shall find. I seem to be a lot more popular these days,” the beauty sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed met Rhaena’s eyes and she finally understood what was so haunting about her. Striking seemed like the wrong word. Her silky black hair was knotted into a messy bun on top of her head, two earfuls of piercings peeked through on the sides. Her unblemished pale skin was heavily decorated in ink beneath her loose band t-shirt and leggings and if Athan Kane had been a female, this is how she imagined he’d look. “You’re not a reporter, are you?”

Rhaena smiled sweetly and stepped to the end of the bed, trying not to stare at the bandage along the side of Sarah’s neck. “No, ma’am. I’m Detective Northwood. If it’s okay, I’d like to ask you a few questions.” She reached a hand toward her, and Sarah took it, looking at her warily while she softly shook it. Rhaena could have sworn she caught a flash of disappointment in her lovely eyes.

“Northwood?” Brent Stratford drew her attention—as well as everyone else’s as he furrowed his brows and studied Rhaena’s face. “Don’t I know you?” The redhead on the other side of Sarah’s bed raised her brows.

“Yes, sir. I worked security detail a few times for your father’s public addresses when I was a uniform. I’m surprised you remember that.”

“Kinda hard to forget. He spoke about you a lot. So, you’re on this case, too?” He placed a hand on his hip, ignoring the glare that Sarah was giving him beneath her thick lashes.

“That’s correct.”

“Where’s Detective Kane?” Sarah piped up, earning a soft nasal chuckle from her friend when Brent’s jaw tightened in irritation. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with a jealousy issue.

“He’s off duty, currently. Why? Is there something wrong?” she asked carefully, studying Sarah’s face.

“No, no. Not at all. I just—I didn’t get a chance to thank him.”

Oh, bless her.

“Thank him? May I ask what for?” Rhaena pushed gently.

“I had a little … problem. He came to ask questions and I blacked out. Nurse said he carried me back in here and was the only reason I don’t have a busted face. Are you two … umm …?” Sarah gestured with her fingers in a swirling motion, and it took Rhaena a moment to realize what she meant.

“Oh!” She threw her palms up, “No. Absolutely not. We’re just partners.”

Sarah smirked as if she knew damned well it was a lie. “Well … will I be seeing him again?” Brent cleared his throat, crossing his arms and trying earnestly not to look like he gave a shit as he stared down at the floor.

“You might. I suppose it depends on if I get everything I need from you. If that’s the case, we may not have to bother you again. Hopefully, we can solve this quickly so that you can put it behind you.” Rhaena forced a smile.

“I appreciate that. Tell him—tell him thank you, would you?” Her bottom lip tugged behind her white teeth.

“Is he single?” the redhead asked, wagging her brows. Sarah smacked her in the arm, the faintest hint of pink staining her cheeks. Rhaena noticed that, too.

“Do not answer that.” Sarah laughed softly.

“Why don’t we let her do her job?” Brent finally said, his face almost pissy when he raised it to look at the girls. “We can’t figure out who did this if the two of you can’t stop swooning after the hot cop. ”

“Oh, fuck off, Brent. Like you weren’t just doing the same damn thing in front of her?” The redhead spat, leaning against the edge of the window that looked out over the hallway. Rhaena decided that was enough.

“Okay.” She stretched her arms out between all of them. “Why don’t I question Miss St. James alone? Do you guys mind? I think that would be best for everyone. If I need any information from either of you, then I’ll have you come up to the station. Agreed?”

Brent didn’t say another word to anyone, grabbing his jacket and storming out of the room. Sarah’s friend nodded and winked at her before shouldering her bag and following him out. Rhaena stepped over to the chair at Sarah’s bedside.

“Mind if I sit?” she asked. Sarah nodded, staring off at the doorway where her friends had just left. “Can I ask … how long have you been in a relationship with Brent Stratford?” Her bright hazel eyes shot toward her as if she couldn’t understand why she’d asked.

“What does that have to do with my attack?”

“Probably nothing. Maybe everything.” Rhaena shrugged, earning Sarah’s full attention. She adjusted her entire body to face her, then.

“Go on.” Sarah leaned forward, intently listening.

“How long?”

“A little more than two years … why do you ask? Is there something I should know about Brent?”

“Brent seems harmless. How much do you know about his family? Do you spend a great deal of time around the senator?” Rhaena tried to choose her words carefully. Sarah slowly shook her head.

“I know politicians can be a dangerous type. Brent isn’t one of them. He’s a lawyer. He annoys the fuck out of me, but he’s a good guy.”

Rhaena almost felt bad about asking her next question. “I know this is probably really personal, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to answer this … but do you love him?” She watched Sarah’s expression turn grim. Watched her eyes sink down to the rock she wore on her left hand. “I know that we don’t know each other, Miss St. James. So, I’ll give you something to build some trust between us.” Sarah’s eyes raised to meet hers. “I wasn’t a uniform when I worked security detail for that kid’s father. I was on a case. You need to be careful. That’s probably as much as I should say for now. I didn’t realize the two of you were together.”

“That makes me feel all toasty inside, detective.” Her eyes rolled and she stared back down at her hands that fidgeted in her lap. “I don’t.”

Rhaena studied her for a moment. “You don’t what?”

“I don’t think I love Brent. Or maybe I thought I did before.” She shook her head slightly and didn’t look up again.

“Before what? Did something happen? He doesn’t hurt you or anything does he?” Rhaena’s temper flared at the thought, and she rubbed her knuckles. Sarah’s face shot up at the question.

“No, no. Nothing like that. But … I don’t know—ever since I was attacked, I just feel this … darkness. This rage. Did Detective Kane share the details I gave him about the night everything happened?” Rhaena tried to forget certain parts of that conversation but threw on her best mask and nodded. “I didn’t see anything. I feel like I can’t even talk about it without people thinking I’m just heavily medicated, delusional, or just fucking crazy.”

“Why?” Sarah rubbed over her face and stared over at the wall behind her bed. “Miss St. James? Listen, I’ll go ahead and be forward with you. Kane and I are usually assigned to the strange cases that nobody wants because they’re too far-fetched for anyone to believe, therefore never getting resolved. I don’t think there’s anything you could tell either one of us that we haven’t heard before, or that would lead us to believe you’ve lost your mind.” She returned her attention to Rhaena and took a deep breath.

“I don’t think it was a person that tried to kill me.”

“An animal?”

“I don’t think that, either. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a witch. I read the tabloids. I know what people think. I know what they see when they look at me. I understand that I fit the narrative, and being hooked on Brent’s arm seems like some kind of publicity stunt. The truth is, detective? I’m just a biochemist that came to Boston to study blood. I finally got a job that I busted my ass to get, and I haven’t even been able to walk through the doors yet. I don’t believe in the supernatural. I don’t believe in ghosts, or faeries, or any stupid shit like that. I believe in science. I just—” She paused and shook her head.

“Go ahead.” Rhaena encouraged.

“It’s not even a question that the wound on my neck is a bite. There’s teeth marks in it. I got access to my charts and looked at everything that they’ve jotted down about this shit, and not once did they mention it being a bite. Not once. Although it’s more than obvious. They also tested my blood, and the DNA left in my wound by whatever it was that attacked me. There are hundreds … hundreds of strands. Not to mention that this thing is resistant to antibiotics, or pain meds … even ointments they’re trying to use to help it close. None of this shit makes any sense. Add that to the strange dreams I’m having? The bitter cold I feel? The anger I have now that I’ve never had before in my life? I used to be a generally happy person. I used to want to go do things. See people. Now, I don’t even want to study. I can’t stand to be around my friends. If Brent so much as stands next to me, I feel like ripping his throat out.”

“You’ve been through a great deal of trauma, Miss St. James. I think that whatever you’re feeling sounds a bit normal to me. Though, I do agree that the statistics are a little strange. I’d like to request copies of your chart, if that’s alright with you.”

Sarah nodded. “It’s strange, though,” she breathed, diverting her attention toward the doorway. “When he was here, I felt unusually calm … almost relieved.”

“Who?”

She looked back at Rhaena, her face unreadable.

“Your partner.”