Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 2 2

GIVING THANKS

The cold of the small bedroom did nothing to stifle her sweat. Nor did it help to throw her quilt off and come out of the soaked t-shirt she’d slept in. Wren didn’t budge when Rhaena eased off the bed and vigorously fanned herself, pacing across the bedroom floor. The sun started to peek through the old curtains on her window, unusually bright as she shoved them aside and squinted her eyes. At least a good three or four inches of snow had fallen through the night. The first of the year. Which meant she won the bet she’d made with Jenkins about it holding off until December. She missed him. Wondered how many times he may have tried to reach her while her phone sat dismantled in Athan’s apartment back home.

Her throat felt bone-dry and scratchy. Rhaena padded into the small bathroom and ran the water in the faucet she’d left dripping last night, happy to know that she had been right in doing so. The iciness of the splashing on her face was a subtle relief, but still not enough. Her body continued to sweat bullets, and her knees felt weak. She stripped down and stepped into the small tub, jerking the curtain around it, and running the shower on its coldest setting. She didn’t even flinch at the rush that racked her body at the temperature. When she felt herself finally come to a place of calm, she stepped out and dried off, quietly changing into something loose and breathable and cracking the door open to raid the kitchen for the gallons of water she’d stashed in the back pantry.

Two steps. Only two, and the scent slammed into her nose before she even looked down at the floor. Poe screeched, watching her eagerly from his small cage and she sneered at him before turning her attention to the half-covered bodies tangled up by the fireplace that was barely glowing with what was left of their fire. As strong as the thick smell of pure sex was in this room, Rhaena felt her heart melt at the sight. Sarah’s tattooed back was turned toward her, bare and cradled in Athan’s equally marked arms as they laid facing each other. Her hand was resting on the side of his face that was tucked adoringly beneath hers and as odd as it seemed to see either of them this way, she was so glad for it. It seemed appropriate to wake up on Thanksgiving morning and witness something to truly be thankful for. That he’d found someone to make him happy, and that what he thought was his biggest mistake, had actually saved the man that was trapped within the monster he thought himself to be.

Rhaena smiled to herself, nodding her head as she crept into the kitchen. One more day. There was only one more day to prepare these two girls for the monster she’d become soon. As she pulled the tab from around the cap of a fresh gallon jug, Rhaena glanced over to where Athan’s hand hung over Sarah’s naked back. That silver ring on his thumb glinted in the light coming in from the window. They’d have to come up with something to temper the force of her transition on Saturday night. She lifted the jug and chugged from it, downing half the gallon before lowering it back down and wiping her mouth on her wrist. She had always wondered if anyone else in her lost pack ever felt this way about what they truly were. That it never felt freeing or liberating to become something else entirely once every month. Was there anyone else like her … like Athan … that yearned only for a simple human existence? Had Athan not been a vampire, he’d never have lived long enough to meet the girl that was fated to be his mate. But deep down, Rhaena knew that wouldn’t have been the case for her.

She’d likely still be a detective, or something that allowed her to hone the skills she acquired over the years. She would have eventually met Jenkins, or perhaps some other guy that would love her for the person she was … and not the untamed wolf on the inside. Even knowing that Jenkins had uttered the words while they burned the body of an undead individual on these very lands—she still wished he didn’t have to know. That he didn’t have to bear that cross to have what they have. Until this part of her proved to be anything more than a nuisance, Rhaena would probably always wish that she could be rid of it altogether. She ran a hand through her wet hair and snuck back to her bedroom, taking the burner phone and the number she’d written down and texting Brandon.

Me: Wanted to let you know I’m safe. We’re all safe. Miss you. 3

A few minutes passed and the phone beeped with an unfamiliar tone. Wren shifted on the bed and Rhaena scrambled to silence the damned thing.

UNKNOWN: Thank God. I need you to call me.

Something like dread twisted in her gut and another wave of hot flashes soared through her. Rhaena skipped the jacket and slipped her feet into a pair of fleece-lined boots, trying hard not to wake Athan and Sarah as she snuck out the front door. She hit the call button and pressed the small phone to her ear.

“Northwood?” Brandon’s voice was a cross between relief and condolence.

“Hey. Are you at the precinct?”

“No. Cap’s got me workin’ from home. We’re working together and trying to work around the Feds. There’s a lot of shit going down up here, Rhaena.”

“Another body?”

“No, not since the day you left. It’s something else.”

“Tell me.”

“Are you at the cabin?”

“If I say yes, are you gonna be forced to tell Foley? ”

“No. He wants you to lay low … especially now.”

“Why?”

“Are they all there with you?”

Rhaena was hesitant to answer, and looked through the window at Sarah and Athan who hadn’t moved. “Yes.”

“Don’t go anywhere. There’s an APB out for St. James, and Kane.”

“What?” Rhaena’s mouth dropped open and her skin tingled with nerves. “Why? They’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I know that. Cap knows it, too. It didn’t come from him. It came from Agent Foster and her team. She knows there’s something going on between them two, and with the show that St. James put on at the benefit, and that second body that looks like her … they’re trying to connect her with homicides and possible threats to a government official.”

“What are they pinning on Kane?”

“Right now, just harboring a fugitive. But he got called out this time with that bloody message at the crime scene. It don’t look good for him, either. Look, Rhaena … I know what you’ve gotta deal with on Saturday. But when it’s over, you gotta make a run for it until we can clear their names. They’ll start charging you and the other girl with the same shit, and you know it.”

“How are you planning to clear their names, Brandon?”

“They’ve already gone through his apartment, and yours. They’re going through St. James’ apartment as we speak. Cap’s got some information on Conrad Stratford and plans to go talk to his kid in person this afternoon. We’re not bringing them to the station. The motherfucker has declined comment on this shit with the benefit ever since it happened. But his kid showed up at the children’s hospital yesterday.”

“To do what?”

“I dunno. He stayed and talked to that little girl from the event for a while. Cap thinks there’s something to it. I’ve got other shit I have to look into on the other side of town.”

“What shit?”

“Black Bird Tavern, where St. James was found last month. There’s gotta be some connection. There was a dead bird shoved in that girl’s mouth a couple days ago. Somebody knows something and we gotta figure out what.”

“No. Don’t go over there. Promise me you won’t.”

“Why?”

“Just promise me. Don’t go anywhere near that place, do you understand?”

“What are you not telling me, babe?”

Just hearing it come out of his mouth made her chest ache. “It’s too much to go into right now. Don’t make any moves on that front until I talk to Athan. Deal?”

Brandon sighed. “Alright. Stay outta sight. I’ll text this number when it’s safe to chat. ”

“Okay.”

“Rhaena …”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you too.”

Rhaena closed her eyes and softly smiled. “You owe me. It snowed.”

Brandon chuckled on the other end. “I make good on my debts.”

“Bye, you.”

“Later.”

They hung up and she slid the phone in her pants pocket. She took a moment and breathed a long sigh, relishing in the feel of how cold her sweat was becoming with the icy air. What the hell would they do now? It was bad enough that the Feds were hijacking their case … now one of their own—her own partner—was being tailed for arrest. Rhaena turned to look through the window again and found the blankets empty. She hoped she hadn’t been the one that had stirred them awake. She turned and hesitated when her hand rested on the doorknob. He wasn’t gonna take this well. Rhaena grit her teeth and opened the door.

Sarah was barefoot in the kitchen scooping coffee into the small setup, while Athan washed the pot out in the sink next to her. Neither one of them had noticed that Rhaena had come inside. He flicked water in her face and Sarah hit him in the shoulder, both of them snickering quietly. Rhaena couldn’t help but find it adorable. She’d never seen Athan smile at anyone like that in all the years that she’d known him. He was so happy. She couldn’t bring herself to ruin it yet. She cleared her throat and they both turned around.

“Happy turkeys.” Sarah grinned. “Coffee?”

Rhaena smiled at her knowingly and started toward the kitchen. “Please.”

Athan handed her the pot and Sarah turned back around to pour it into the back of the coffee maker. Rhaena took a seat at the small table, and he met eyes with her. “Morning.” He half-smiled, leaning against the counter.

“Morning. You’re in a spritely mood.” Rhaena couldn’t resist rubbing it in.

Sarah didn’t even turn so much as her head in their direction while she poured the water. “That’s because I fucked his brains out all night.” There wasn’t even a hint of modesty in her tone and Rhaena burst out laughing. Athan’s face flushed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, holding onto that bashful smirk. Sarah’s grin was hysterical when she pressed the button on the coffee maker and raised on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Sorry, honey,” she whispered, turning away from him and patting Rhaena’s shoulder as she passed to make her way to the bedroom.

“My girl.” Rhaena snorted, raising back up from her chair to stand in front of Athan who stood shaking his head. He crossed his arms in front of his wrinkled white t-shirt. Rhaena paused in front of him and pointed at the blankets in the living room. “Clean that up,” she chuckled. “ And by clean, I mean fucking wash them. It reeks of way too much happiness in here.”

“Christ.” Athan laughed under his breath, rubbing over his face with his palms.

Brent sat on the edge of his bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking through medical records of his mother’s and comparing them to what little Annie’s mother had given him after he’d visited the strangely mature child at the hospital. He was beginning to understand exactly why his father had chosen this girl as his test subject with Sarah’s blood. What he wished he had were any of Sarah’s records to figure out what exactly would have happened had he not given her back that blood bag and gifted it to this dying young girl instead. Now he couldn’t even reach Sarah. He turned his beer up, finding the last swallow warm and disgusting, and rolled his eyes as he stood. The steps down to his open lower floor were cold against the bottom of his feet, and the TV was muted but still playing as he trashed the empty bottle and opened the fridge for another.

His door buzzed and he turned toward it, screwing off the cap to his beer, and not giving a single shit who was on the other side … until he opened it and came face to face with his father. Brent stilled, glaring at him. Conrad eyed the towel and then pressed his mouth in a tight line as he returned his glare.

“If it’s a bad time, I can come back another—”

“If memory serves, you shouldn’t be here at all,” Brent countered, cutting him off and turning his beer up. “Are you not violating your own damn restraining order? This some clever trick to get me restrained? ”

“It was shitty of me, I know. I’ll drop it. Are you alone?”

“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”

“We need to talk.” Conrad’s hands fidgeted in front of him, and Brent could tell he was uneasy.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re already dead to me.”

“That’s fair. But if it’s true, then at least allow me a few minutes before you become an orphan.”

His tone had every muscle in his chest tightening with the spark of heartbreak at the thought of his mother dying with this piece of shit at her side. “Is it time?” Brent asked, trying to mask any emotion. When Conrad didn’t answer, Brent moved aside and let him in. He didn’t try to find a seat. It didn’t appear that he was planning to stay very long.

“Are you gonna put some clothes on?” Conrad asked, standing awkwardly at the end of the kitchen island .

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not turn my back on a snake in my own house. Never know where it might go slithering off to.” Brent took another swig of his beer.

“Do you know what time it is, son? How many have you had?”

“A little late to come off as the concerned father now, isn’t it? Besides … I’ve seen you skip breakfast and sip scotch my entire life. Now, are you gonna get to the point of why you darkened my door, or should I go ahead and see you back out of it?”

Conrad nodded, pocketing his hands, and staring down at the floor. “What did you do with the blood I gave you?”

“What does it matter to you?” Brent slammed his bottle against the counter. “Did you not tell me that you were leaving all the cards in my hand now? That I ruined our empire, and you were gonna teach me a lesson?”

“She needs it, Brent, or she’s gonna fucking die.”

“If you were so worried about Mom dying, or ending her obvious suffering, then why the fuck didn’t you try to use the blood when you had it?”

Conrad stiffened and Brent could tell his temper was starting to rise. “Because boy … I wasn’t positive it would work, or what it would do, and I didn’t want to be respons—”

“You didn’t wanna be responsible for murdering your wife? That would look terrible, wouldn’t it? But using mine as a pincushion and a sick little girl as a lab rat would have been better.”

“Where is it, Brent?” His father’s lips curled over his teeth.

“I don’t have it. I made my decision just as soon as I left that house.” There was a silence that stretched between them so thick with hatred one could likely saw it in half. “Do you remember last Thanksgiving, Dad?” Brent asked, picking his beer up from the counter and taking a swallow.

“Yes. I was in New York.”

“Yeah. We saw you. Me … Sarah … Mom. Saw you and Gretchen at the Thanksgiving Day parade in the square. Sarah turned the TV off and tried her best to explain away the obvious shit going on between the two of you that you seemed to have no qualms with letting the world see. The way you’ve treated her all these years … especially since she got sick. It’s killed her a lot faster than any cancer. So don’t stand there and try to pretend you give a shit now.” Brent sneered at him, chugging down the rest of his beer and tossing it forcefully into the trash bin. Conrad jumped at the noise. “You’re such a fucking coward. Get the hell out of my apartment.”

The door buzzed again, and they both glanced at each other. “You expecting someone else?” Conrad asked in a quiet voice. Brent shook his head and stepped over to the door, pushing the button.

“Yeah?” he asked, listening for a response.

“Mr. Stratford? My name is Malcolm Foley. I’m the captain at the 12th precinct, I’m here to ask you a few questions regarding Sarah St. James. Can we talk? ”

Brent turned toward Conrad who threw up his palms and shook his head with widening eyes. It was obvious that he didn’t want the captain to know he was here. He pressed the button down again. “I’m not really prepared to visit with anyone at the moment. Can I come to the station?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Stratford, I’d rather you steer clear of the station. And I’d appreciate your discretion at my coming here, as well.”

That got his attention. Brent nodded toward the stairs that led up to his bedroom and Conrad followed his lead, quickly creeping up and making himself invisible. Brent opened his door. The captain seemed taller than the last time he’d sat across from him. Less like he could stomp him with one foot, and more like he was deeply troubled by something.

“I apologize,” Brent started, gesturing toward the towel. “To be fair, I did warn you.”

Foley smiled and nodded his head. “You did. I apologize for the intrusion. I won’t keep you long.” Brent let him inside and extended a hand toward the living room. The captain obliged and made his way over to the floor to ceiling windows, pocketing his hands in his suit jacket, and admiring the view of Boston’s skyline. “Nice view.”

Brent pulled his robe from the couch and shrugged it on, still tying the belt when the captain turned around again. “I’ve considered moving. I could let you know when I do, if you’re interested in it.”

Foley’s face hardened. “Any particular reason?” A pause. “For the move, I mean?”

“My mother is dying. When she’s gone, I don’t plan to stay in Boston anymore. Need a fresh start, I think.” His answer seemed to register with the captain, who nodded again.

“Understandable.”

“What can I help you with, Captain?” Brent finally asked, uncomfortable with the thought of hiding a monster in his bedroom.

“How much do you know about your father’s intentions at the benefit he hosted?”

Brent stilled. “I thought you came here to talk about Sarah.”

“Were you not her escort into that benefit? I’ve seen over a dozen photos that make it seem as though the two of you knew exactly what you were up to when you arrived.”

“I already told you and the detective at the precinct what he had me do. She hates my guts for it. Rightfully so. When she asked me to get her into his benefit, I didn’t ask why. I owed her for letting her down. Getting her in was my only part in it.”

“And Detective Kane. And Northwood, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s correct. They asked for access for her protection.” Brent slid his hands into the pockets of his robe.

“So, is it a coincidence that you happened to visit the family that was supposed to be receiving some kind of treatment from Conrad Stratford just a day ago? He hasn’t reached out to you? ”

“You should know. I’ve got a restraining order against me, per my father. I wouldn’t think it’d slip your attention. And no, it isn’t a coincidence. He’s refused to comment about leaving that little girl in the dark. So, I went to visit her. She’s—apparently, she looks up to me. I wasn’t aware of that. I offered to pay for anything that could improve her quality of life. I just wanted to do something … right.” The last word was a shrug, and a defeated sigh.

“And St. James?”

“I haven’t seen her since the night of the benefit.”

“I’ve got witnesses that put you at her house late that night after the building had been evacuated,” Foley pressed, stepping forward.

“Yeah, I was. We got separated and I wanted to make sure she was safe. I wasn’t there fifteen minutes.”

“And she hasn’t contacted you?”

Brent shook his head. “No. Why would she need me, when she’s got your detective?” Foley smirked at the jab.

“I can understand your frustration with the situation between St. James and Detective Kane. As it happens … they’re both wanted and on the run.”

Brent couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping open. He lowered his brows. “Wanted? For what? Sarah didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t disagree with you, Mr. Stratford. That’s why I’m here. It’s also why I didn’t want to have this conversation at the precinct. That APB wasn’t my doing. There’s a team of agents taking over my office, and they have reason to believe she’s now in connection with a string of attacks. Detective Kane is wanted for harboring her.”

“She didn’t hurt anybody. She’d never do that.”

“I know. That’s why I need you to help me. I need to understand her reason for being at that benefit and what she was trying to accomplish. They’ve also got her charged with communicating threats to a government official.”

Brent’s limbs were seizing under his rising anger. “Did my father press charges?”

“No, he didn’t. He’s been radio silent since the incident at the hotel. Look, any information you can give me will help, Brent. Man to man … I’m just trying to clear her name. What does she have on your father? Why would she want to hurt him? Besides the drama of him having you date her for show?”

“I didn’t date her for show. I dated her—” Brent paused, knowing Conrad could probably hear every word, and then deciding finally that he didn’t give a shit anymore. His father was a horrible person. He deserved everything he got. “My father wanted Sarah’s blood. He seems to think that she’s some freak of nature that can cure cancer. He planned to use it to heal that little girl and become some kind of saint. Sarah went to the benefit to call him out. She wasn’t gonna hurt anyone. She wanted to ruin him publicly.”

Foley’s face softened as if all the pieces to this puzzle just fit into place. “So, she didn’t fire a weapon at him at that hotel? ”

“Sarah doesn’t own a weapon, Captain. Trust me, I’d know. My father is very much alive. Several people saw him leave unscathed during the evacuation. I don’t know what happened in there. There’s not much I can tell you other than the fact that she’s innocent. She’s been the victim in your case that’s lost the most out of anybody. She doesn’t deserve this. No matter how much it pains me to say it … if Kane is with her, I feel like she’s safe.”

“And her friend? The redhead that was involved in the shooting downtown? Do you know if she’s with her?”

The incident at the bar crossed his mind. “I just saw Wren a block down from where she works. She was eating lunch. That’s the last I saw or heard from her. Are they after her, too?” Something like rage bubbled up in his gut.

“Not yet, but they might try. If she’s helping hide St. James, then it’ll be a matter of time before they start slapping charges on her as well. I’m trying to keep the fatalities to a minimum here, Stratford. There’s a common denominator. I’m interested in putting the right people behind bars. I know better than anyone that things aren’t always what they seem.” Foley slipped a card from his pocket and handed it to him. “If you can think of anything else, call me. And if you hear from any of them …”

Brent nodded, pocketing the card. “I got you. I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

“I appreciate that. Again, I’m doing my best to direct the attention away from them. The only way to clear them is to find the real threat—or threats. Please keep our conversation to yourself.”

“I understand, sir.”

Brent showed him out and made sure to hang back for a few moments to give the captain time to leave the building. He glanced at the muted TV and both Sarah and the detective’s photos were on the screen. There had to be more he could do. He shot up the stairs to find his father standing next to his bed, holding his mother’s medical records. Conrad sneered at him, dropping the papers to the bed.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just tell him that I was up here. What would it have hurt?”

Brent gathered the papers from the bed and tucked them under his arm. “If you were any kind of respectable man, you’d have come down those fucking stairs yourself.”

“Well … I suppose I’m not.” Conrad pulled a small stack of tri-folded papers from the inside of his jacket and tossed them on the bed. “For your research.”

“Whatever that is, I don’t fucking want it. Get out.”

Conrad dismissed him, leaving the papers where they sat and stepping around him to go back downstairs. Brent followed him down. When he’d made it to the door, his father turned around and smiled with that snake-like charm that showed every evil part of him. “I told you before, Brent. You won’t like how I take matters into my own hands. You’ve brought this on yourself. ”

“And I told you. If you do anything to hurt her, I’ll kill you. Now get. The. Fuck. Out.”

Conrad chuckled through his nose. “I’ll see you around, son.”

“You’d better hope you don’t. I’d keep that restraining order if I were you.”

The door closed and Brent locked it behind him, trembling with adrenaline and rage. There had to be one of them he could reach. He raced back upstairs and grabbed his phone, dialing Wren’s number and getting nothing. He tried Kane. Nothing. Northwood … nothing. They were together. All of them. It was obvious to him, now. But where? He had to warn them. Brent cursed and threw the phone across the room. He reached down and picked up the folded papers that Conrad had left. For a moment, he considered not opening them at all and tossing whatever it was in the trash. When his curiosity outweighed his fury, he opened them. As if things couldn’t get any more complicated. They were Sarah’s medical records. What little information Conrad had been able to get on her through her boss.

It left him with several possible choices. Compare these to what he already had … or go hound that son-of-a-bitch at EverLife for answers on just how deep he’d gotten in over his head with someone like his father and that vampire woman that he was working with. It seemed Sarah and her new beau weren’t gonna be much help. But maybe he could do his part to right whatever wrongs he’d done in it. Brent loosed a frustrated sigh and tore his robe off to get dressed.

It seemed whatever deeply hidden promiscuity Patrick had, finally broke the surface. Dahlia found herself hardly calling on Devin in recent days, and wherever she asked her young newborn to put that rod between his legs, Patrick had seemed far more eager to oblige. Several times, she’d realized she was absent-mindedly allowing him to ravage her as he saw fit and not giving him any direction at all. She wasn’t sure what that meant about her, as it was never an issue she’d remembered dealing with before. As old as she was, she had an idea of the reason … but refused to acknowledge it. Fate would not be allowed to choose anything for her. She held the power. If she had to lay waste to Fate himself, she would be all too happy to show him who truly reigned.

It wasn’t at all that Patrick was a talented fuck. She’d had many … one, in particular, who satisfied her in ways she couldn’t describe. But the calculated manner in which this boy worshiped every part of her … there was no one. Not a single one of her slaves that had done it. It satisfied the parts of herself she hadn’t felt before. The magnitude of body-racking pleasure when she came with him was parallel to nothing. She rewarded him by calling out his name. Also something she’d never done with any other. Dahlia had begun to realize that others within the coven were taki ng notice of that favoritism. She didn’t care. She owed no explanation to anyone.

Patrick pulled himself out of her and flopped onto his back on her bed, gasping for air after the third time he’d made her wail in the past half hour. She smiled wickedly and crawled on top of him, leaning down and biting his lip until she tasted blood. Her tongue lapped up every drop and Patrick savagely kissed her, gripping her white-blonde hair in his hands. Dahlia settled, taking in his face—the face that resembled someone else.

“That girl that broke your heart. Did you ever fuck her like that?” she whispered, licking more blood from his lip.

Patrick ran his hands up her sides. “I don’t think I’ve ever fucked anybody the way that I do you.” He huffed a laugh. “Maybe if I had, she wouldn’t have left me.”

“Do you wish you had?” She wondered why she even asked, and forced the idea that she didn’t care to sink its talons into her mind.

“No,” he breathed, his fingers caressing her in idle strokes. “I’d never have been at the bar.” He was telling the truth. Somehow, she could feel it in him. He quieted and dared to look her in the eyes. “Do you wish I had?”

Part of her was startled by his question, and her defensive walls went up. The other part wanted to kiss him and tell him that the thought of him being with any other before her, made her want to rip the hearts from between their teenage tits. She found herself caught up in that stare like a fly in a black widow’s web. A knock at her door saved her from the raging battle within her cold, dead heart. Dahlia slithered off of him, and he watched her every move as she tied her silk robe around herself and padded to the door. Decclan was waiting on the other side of it.

“Conrad Stratford is here. I have him waiting in your office. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but he claims it’s urgent.”

“Fine. Watch the little maggot. I’ll be up in a moment.” She rolled her eyes, shutting the door. Patrick sat up, leaning back on his hands, and watching her cross the bedroom. “What?” she asked, smirking as she made her way toward her dressing room.

“It’s Thanksgiving.”

“Another pointless, human holiday. Is there a reason that you’re reminding me?” She left him sitting in the room and thumbed through a few outfits. He raised his voice so that she could still hear him.

“It was always a big deal at my house. My mom would bring out all the old family recipes. My aunt and uncle always flew in from Florida and brought my cousins. My grandparents would stay with us for the weekend.” Dahlia brushed off his reminiscing and continued to pick through various items. “I couldn’t help but kind of wish that I was able to bring you over to meet them.” She paused on a hanger and stared forward.

“And you believe they’d approve of someone like me, Patrick?”

There was rustling from beyond her dressing room door, and she gathered that he was getting dressed. “If they knew I was happy … yeah, I think they’d be overjoyed. ”

It was enough. She’d had enough. He’d left a huge crack in the wall she’d thought she’d lined with steel reserve. Dahlia jerked the long black dress off the rack and stormed into the bedroom. “And you’re going to tell me you’re happy?” Patrick stood, stunned by her sudden burst of anger. “You’re happy that your amazing human celebration with your family is likely very different this year, Patrick? Does it make you happy that I took that from you? Would Mommy love me for it?”

“Dahlia …”

“Stop addressing me that way. Get your clothes on. We have company. And I don’t want to hear another word about the life you used to have.” She turned on her heel and strode into her dressing room, slamming the door behind her. He was silent on the other side and for the first time in such a long time … her eyes welled with tears.

The walk up to the office was silent. Patrick trailed behind her, hardly willing to make eye contact as the clacking of her heels echoed through the darkened hallways. Decclan opened the door for them, and they filed in, Conrad raising and buttoning his hideous jacket to greet them as she rounded her desk and sat down. Patrick took his place in the corner.

“Sit down, Senator,” Dahlia growled, situating her long skirts. Conrad obeyed.

“Sorry for the interruption at this hour. We did agree I’d be your daylight eyes and ears.”

“I was given the impression that this was urgent. Otherwise, I’d likely snap your neck. What do you want?” Her elbows propped against the surface of her long desk, and she rested her chin on her hands.

“Did you ever take any heed in getting yourself a television? Watched any news lately?”

“Why would I need that when you so generously provide me with useless information?”

Conrad pursed his lips. “I visited my son today. He doesn’t have the blood.”

“What a shame.”

“It definitely is. For me … and for you.” He crossed an ankle over his knee and leaned back in his chair.

“And why is that?”

“Brent had a little visitor while I was there today. Captain Malcolm Foley of the 12th precinct.” Dahlia recognized that precinct as the one Kane was part of. She left no evidence of curiosity on her face.

“And?”

“And … he said Sarah St. James is wanted for murder. So is that detective working her case.”

“Athan Kane?” She raised her brows.

“You know him?”

Something in her lower belly sparked. “Yes. He’s my star player in this little charade with EverLife. My go-between with Nick Specter.”

“Why was I never told this?” Conrad seemed offended. Good .

“Because it was none of your business. Those were coven matters that had very little to do with our shared interest.”

“He’s a vampire?”

The surprise in his question wasn’t unmerited. Dahlia nodded. “Yes. A very old and rebellious member. And about as fucking foolish as they come. Why do you ask?”

Conrad shifted in his seat. “Did you give him any of that blood?”

Dahlia slowly lowered her arms. “No.”

“Then how is it that he can walk in daylight?”

Every undead nerve in her body buzzed with realization and utter rage. She slowly sunk back into her chair, her limbs coming to rest on its arms and had her heart still been beating within her, it would have nearly burst through her sternum. She recalled seeing him outside that girl’s apartment … beside her bed. Recalled his mouth declaring his love for her while he gently brushed her hair away. Dahlia’s breathing quickened. The night that he’d been in this office. In the very chair the senator was occupying … he had been about to break with bloodlust. She even remembered digging him with it when he’d left that night. Remembered telling Conrad that the body they’d found outside the club hadn’t been one of her people—but she had been wrong. He was the one. Athan fed on Sarah St. James. And he was now walking around as the shining trophy of the two things she wanted most. It all made perfect sense to her now.

“How do you know that he can walk in the daylight, Conrad?” she asked, Patrick stepping forward after hearing the shaking in her voice. The senator eyed him closely.

“As I said. Read a paper or watch the news once in a while. They were a front-page story when he had her on the back of his motorcycle after that attack. And that was before she kicked my son to the curb.”

Dahlia tried to gather herself. “Is there anything else?”

“Yeah. Nobody knows where they are. Your vampire made off with the only other source we both have. And every shot at getting what we want from her.”

“Fuck,” Dahlia said under her breath. “And the captain told your son all this?”

“Yes. Seems he doesn’t believe she’s responsible for any murders in Boston and the Feds have him pegged down. Do we have you to thank for those bodies?”

Dahlia let a smile creep across her mouth. “Only one. I let someone else handle the first. The second was my own work of art. I should have been more careful, it seems. It was meant to lead him back here … to me. Where he belongs.” Patrick stared a hole through her face. Conrad leaned forward.

“Well, it looks like it’s gonna lead a lot more to you than him. Now they’re both on the run and the only thing that we have to look forward to are a bunch of fucking badges! They’re gonna eventually put it all together, and we’ll both be fucked.”

Dahlia slowly raised from her chair and braced her palms on the desk to lean toward him. “Then I suggest you find a way to draw them out, Stratford. I’ve survived war. Plague. Peasant mobs and witch-hunters with pitchforks and torches. I’m perfectly capable of handling a few coppers. You on the other hand … well …” She cocked her head.

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“I sent Athan running with his little lover when I hit him a little too hard in his soft heart. Find out what she holds dear. Use it. She’ll come after it like a dog to a bone. And if she does … so will he.” She stepped from behind her desk, nudging Patrick aside and heading for the door. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to catch up on some sleep.” Patrick made to follow her out and she pressed a hand to his middle. “You can return to your own bed.” The hurt that flashed across his uncanny resemblance stung as she turned away and left them all in the office. The door shut behind her and she walked in a hurry back to her chambers.

“Fucking Thanksgiving …” she whispered under her breath, her heels clicking down the dark hallway.