Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 33

AWAKENING

He’d spent almost two hours sitting with his mother’s body. They let him. No one even attempted to come near the door to her room until he’d opened it. For once in his life, he was grateful to have been alone. He’d been showing way too much vulnerability lately. Even if no one had seen how much he’d wept after she passed, the evidence was still very clearly stamped on his face. Brent made sure to confirm that the news of her death wouldn’t leave the facility until he gave them that authority. He would need a couple of days to make arrangements for her. He’d need a couple days to sort out whether or not he’d even tell his father. In some ways, it seemed unfair not to, but in others …

Brent didn’t have a good answer as to why he’d found himself parked outside Wren’s darkened apartment. The coffee shop beneath it was bustling … as if no one had any idea of what had happened to the girl that lived upstairs. He gripped his steering wheel and stared at one of the windows, where the blinds looked to have been broken in a couple of places. He supposed he just needed someone to talk to. Or maybe he just needed someone to listen. It was odd—even to him—how he suddenly wished he could hear Wren say something hurtful, just so he’d know she was alive. The deepest pit of his stomach turned to lead, heavy with the thought of his suspicion. If he was right, then there was no way Brent wouldn’t kill his father for hurting that girl. If Conrad had gone that length to get to Sarah … he’d already surpassed the limits of the evil he was capable of in Brent’s opinion.

“She’s gone, Wren …” Brent muttered, staring forward blankly. “If he took you …” His head shook slowly, and he lowered it to rest against the wheel. Brent loosed a deep sigh and closed his eyes. “It was all for nothing. All of this.” The pang of emotion began to scratch the surface again and his eyes prickled in the corners. “All this suffering, and she died anyway.”

In all actuality, he figured no one had suffered as much as his mother. In that regard, only Annie could understand. But Sarah’s suffering had been just as ruthless. Even without him being the one who’d taken her from the world … he had been a key player in the game of breaking her. Wren had always seen right through him. The only one, it seemed, that had ever had any clarity, and the only one who had big enough balls to call him out on it. Why did he miss her? Why did it seem like finding out she had been taken was a harder blow than when Sarah had given him back his engagement ring?

“I’m so sorry.” Brent curled his arms over the steering wheel and wept again as the rain started back up and battered his windshield.

Wren woke up with her hands tied tightly behind her back. Her head was fuzzy, and throbbed relentlessly as she opened her one good eye. She remembered a woman she’d seen multiple times with Conrad coming down and saying absolutely nothing as she smashed a cloth over her bleeding nose and mouth while Wren had still been turned over in the chair. That was the last thing she remembered. She must have moved her to this nasty mattress. Her hair stuck to it as she tried to lift the side of her head. It was stiff with dried blood. How long had she been out? What day was it? When was the last time she pissed? Her bladder throbbed in time with her head as Wren struggled, but finally sat herself up, and leaned against the concrete wall, raising her knees to her chest.

Her lip was swollen. She couldn’t feel her eyelid, even when she’d tried to move it. The soreness of looking around beneath it just made the headache worse. She couldn’t think of a worse way to die, although there were several. Dying in the basement of a deranged senator seemed comically fitting to her life, though. Why wouldn’t it be this way? The creak of a door sounded above her, and Wren pressed herself against the wall. The sounds of heels clicking against the wooden steps told her it wouldn’t be Conrad she saw. She silently prayed it wouldn’t be the woman Athan had mentioned from that club. That was all she needed. Wren tensed, settling only when she saw the woman from earlier, carrying a tray of food, and what looked like a hot cup of coffee. She nearly cried at the sight of it.

“How long have you been awake?” the woman asked, pausing at the foot of the stairs.

“I know you,” Wren said hoarsely. “You’re his assistant. Gretel? Grace?”

“Close … Gretchen.” She smirked, glancing up the stairs briefly before coming closer. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t figure you’d rather have him gag you, or worse. Can we meet on some middle ground here? Maybe bite your tongue, and eat instead?”

Wren scoffed. It hurt to smile. “Lady, middle ground would be you sitting here tied up next to me. How does he expect me to act, exactly?”

Gretchen closed the space between them, and Wren flinched, moving her knees away when she knelt in front of her. “Listen,” she whispered, cautiously looking back at the stairs. “I’m not doing any of this because I want to, or because I’m in on this with him. I don’t have a choice, okay? If I can get us both out of this alive, then it’ll be a miracle in itself. It would be a lot easier if you work with me, and not against me.”

“Ah …” Wren nodded, smirking. “He’s got something on you, huh? Figures. What’d you do? Bang some underpaid intern on a security camera?”

Gretchen lowered her brows in annoyance. “No, worse. I stole money from the campaign last election, and he caught me. Then I had to sleep with him so he wouldn’t throw me in jail. That … was recorded for liability, yes. As well as an obvious affair, stamped all over national news for the whole world to see … including his dying wife .” Wren raised a brow at that one. “So yes, he’s got something on me. If I play by his rules, he destroys the evidence, and my name isn’t caked in mud … I also stay out of prison.”

“Kinky …” Wren bit, turning her face away. “I need to pee.”

Gretchen sat the tray down on the dirty floor and walked over to the space underneath the stairs. Wren watched her carefully and scooted herself closer to the tray. Her legs and ankles were free. Her mind teetered on whether or not she should trust this woman or keep her dignity and fight. Gretchen dug out a large plastic bucket and turned back around to place it at the foot of the mattress. “That’s the best I can do, I’m sorry.”

“How am I supposed to eat anything, or take a piss with my hands tied behind my back?”

“I’m not allowed to untie you, Vintorri.” Gretchen stepped closer to the tray. “I can help? Or if you’d rather me not touch you, then you can try to eat the oatmeal like a dog. I dunno.”

Well…that was an easy decision. Fuck her.

“You can’t be serious,” Wren spat, staring up at her. Gretchen lifted a shoulder and knelt back down in front of the tray. Without a second thought, Wren kicked the mug as hard as she could, and Gretchen cursed loudly as the coffee splattered the entire front of her blouse.

“God! You fucking bitch! ” The last word was a backhand to Wren’s already battered face. “You’re on your own, whore. Now you can eat it off the floor. Piss yourself, I don’t give a shit. Next time you can deal with him .” Gretchen stormed back up the stairs and slammed the door, leaving Wren to figure out her next move—after she stopped seeing fucking stars.

The mug had broken, and thick shards of the ceramic cup lay on the tray, and the floor. Good enough. Wren turned herself around, scooting toward the tray, and trying her best to maneuver her hands to grab the biggest piece with the most jagged edge. She flipped it in her fingers and slid it between her wrists. The point poked her skin, and she cursed, pinching her fingers over it again and positioning the piece to start sawing away at the rope. At least that part was going in her favor. Not much she could have done if these were metal chains, or cuffs. She was grateful that the large chain on the wall hadn’t been what was used to hold her, though she also knew that if she wasn’t careful … if she didn’t plan this out, there’d be no second chance. They’d either kill her or toss the idea of using rope anymore.

This was gonna take forever. Wren carefully moved the glass back and forth across the rope. She prayed that Conrad would busy himself with anything else until she could free herself enough to beat the shit out of the old fuck.

What time was it?

Rhaena’s eyes cracked open at the sound of heavy knocking on her apartment door. Jenkins stirred awake beside her, raising to sit and grabbing his gun from the nightstand as he flipped on the lamp.

“It’s almost four in the morning,” he said, cocking his gun. “Who the hell would—”

“Athan …” Rhaena finished, jerking the sheets back and hurrying to the door. She scrambled with the locks, and thrust it open to find him standing with Sarah in his arms, bundled in a sorry excuse for a blanket. “What the hell happened?” she panicked. “Where have you been?”

“I need you to open my door.”

His face was so hard to read. A hard mix of something between pride and utter devastation. When he shifted, turning himself towards his apartment, Rhaena caught the sight of blood just beneath the collar of his jacket. She stormed forward, peeling it back. It wasn’t hard to follow the trail of dry blood up to a spot on his neck that looked to have been bleeding pretty heavily, but now showed absolutely no signs of dismay. “Athan what—” she paused when she glanced down, finally seeing Sarah’s face. There was blood all over her mouth and chin. Rhaena’s eyes grew wide, and she jerked her face back up to him. “Oh my God …”

“Please open my door, Rhaena.”

Jenkins swiftly moved past her, taking the keys from Athan’s hand and unlocking the door to his apartment while Rhaena stood in shock. What the hell had happened since they’d left Wren’s crime scene? How did Sarah end up like this? Was it by choice? Was he happy about it? She followed them inside and helped pull the covers back on Athan’s bed while he unwrapped Sarah and gently laid her down. She barely stirred, and once Rhaena got a better look at her, it was obvious she looked very different.

“You think you could help me change her clothes?” Athan asked, pulling Sarah’s boots off. Brandon leaned in the doorway, raising two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute.

“I’ll leave y’all to it. Knock if you need anything, I gotta be up in an hour.” Athan jerked his head towards him.

“Thanks, man.”

Once Jenkins left, Rhaena helped Athan get Sarah out of her clothes, replacing them with one of his t-shirts, and a pair of his shorts. She didn’t wake at all, barely twitching when they finally covered her up. Athan sat next to her, brushing the stray hair from her face. It was still caked with blood. Rhaena ducked into the bathroom and came back with a wet towel, handing it to him, and sitting down next to him at Sarah’s side.

“How long will she be like this?” Rhaena asked, watching him carefully clean her up. It was almost strange to see him so gentle. Even after being locked up in the cabin with them both for that long. He had changed so much in two months.

“I’m not really sure,” he said, dabbing her mouth. “Her blood is so much different. She might bounce back quicker than a normal turning. I just wanna make sure I’m here when she wakes. The first few days are so disorienting and fucking weird.”

“Are you gonna tell me how this happened?” Rhaena stared at Sarah, remembering the way she felt when they were all at the cabin, waiting for her to wake up after Sarah had ended her pain. This girl had been through so damn much. She’d been so headstrong and brave, and truly selfless. Athan took a deep breath, and then told her everything. It was a lot to take in, and difficult to hear the desperation in his voice when he’d explained that she’d died again … for several minutes. She imagined that’s how Brandon must have felt that night at the cabin. When he finished, Rhaena sat quietly beside him and the silence that stretched between them lingered for a while.

Athan finally turned his attention towards her. “Are you upset?” Rhaena forced herself out of a daydream, raising her brows.

“Hmm? Oh—no, I …” she shook her head and looked back down at Sarah. “I don’t have any right to be upset about anyone’s choices, Kane. If anything, I guess it makes things a little easier for both of you now. And … she’ll be stronger. Might be a bit more useful for her when we figure out who took Wren.”

“Something else is wrong. I know you better than that.” Athan’s eyes narrowed in on her and Rhaena’s shoulders sagged under his stare. She took a steadying breath.

“Foley came to my house earlier today, Athan … I’m reinstated.” Athan smirked, nodding slightly.

“Well, that’s good right? Why do you look so pained by it?”

“I’m not really … but I do think it’s bullshit that I got mine back and you didn’t.”

Athan shifted on the bed, facing her fully. “That doesn’t surprise me at all, Rhaena. You shouldn’t have lost it in the first place. If any part of it was bullshit, it was that part. I deserve what I got. What does surprise me though, is that he came here to give it to you.”

Rhaena swallowed hard and raised her face. “He came to talk to me privately.” Athan lowered his brows, and slowly cocked his head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice dropping into a defensive tone.

“I think he knows what I am, Kane.”

“Why do you think that? What did he say?”

Rhaena stood, planting her hands on her hips and pacing back and forth along the side of his bed. “Remember when I asked him why he wasn’t surprised to hear about you being what you are? Well … he decided he owed me an explanation, I guess. He came here to tell me the truth about what really happened to his partner all those years ago.”

Athan’s head followed her back and forth. “Trainor?”

“Yeah,” Rhaena answered, tossing her hand to the side and continuing to pace. “They were on a homicide case. One similar to the ones we take. They got a lead and went to go check back at the crime scene, and Trainor got attacked by a werewolf.”

Athan stilled, his eyes growing wider. “Damn … ”

“Athan …” Rhaena breathed, pausing and facing the bedroom wall. “The—the wolf that attacked them was—” Her head dropped, and her throat started hurting around the building emotion. “It was my uncle.”

“What?” Athan rose from the bed and turned her around, holding her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. “How do you know that?”

Rhaena sniffled, and her eyes burned. “Because, dude. When Trainor didn’t make it, Foley chased him through the woods and the wolf was hit by a fucking transfer truck . When the driver met Foley to investigate it, he said it was a naked man that was hit.”

“Do you know for sure it was him?”

“Athan, how many other cases like this have you heard? The timing is … it adds up, okay?” Rhaena shook her head, battling away tears. “Jenkins pulled those files for me after Cap left … it was him.”

“But doesn’t that mean …”

“It means if he knows the truth, then he’s known it ever since I became a cop. It’s probably why he keeps such a close tab on me.” Rhaena could feel the nausea churning in her stomach again. Athan gripped her upper arms.

“You think he’s kept close to you to get justice for her?”

Rhaena loosed a heavy sigh and wiped her eyes. “I dunno anymore, Kane. If that were the case, I don’t think he’d give me back my gun. I don’t have a clue what he’s up to. But ever since he left, I will say I feel that wolf. I feel that part of me. Like some kind of rudely awakened predator that’s quietly planning some hostile takeover.”

“But Sarah fixed—”

“We don’t know that she fixed it.” Rhaena’s head jerked back up to him. “It stopped my transition, but we don’t really know what it did. It isn’t gone. It’s still in there. Waiting.”

It took her by surprise when he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. She cautiously hugged him back and sighed deeply against his shoulder. “What are you gonna do?” he asked quietly.

“What I do best, partner … my job.” She sniffed, and the overwhelming scent of his blood was too much. “In the meantime …” She pushed away from him and scrunched her nose at the stain on his shirt and neck. “You need to change … take a shower. Do something … Jesus.” Rhaena waved a hand back and forth across her nose.

“Fuck you.” Athan smirked, rolling his eyes and sitting back down next to Sarah. “Last time I ever try being soft around you.”

“I don’t think you ever would have tried if you hadn’t met her.” Rhaena nodded towards Sarah, who continued to deeply sleep. “I’ll leave you alone. Call me if there’s anything I can do, okay? We’ll figure all this out. Don’t worry about my shit … take care of your mate.”

“Thank you, Rhaena … for everything.” Athan smiled, holding Sarah’s pale hand.

“Don’t thank me. We’re partners. I’ve always got your six, Kane.” Rhaena winked at him and smiled as she left his room and headed out of the apartment.

Athan wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep next to her. He’d watched over Sarah for what seemed like hours, checking for steady breathing, and placing a hand over her chest every so often. She slept so still, and barely made a sound the entire time. He woke up with his forehead pressed against her shoulder, and his arm draped protectively over her. It didn’t appear as if she’d moved an inch, though her eyelids twitched a little more. Maybe it wouldn’t be much longer. He didn’t want to be in his bloody clothes when she saw him. Athan pressed a kiss to her cheek and rose, lifting off his shirt and walking into the living room. Poe trilled in greeting, and he let him out, scratching the ruffled breast of the bird before teasing a fingertip in front of his beak.

He’d need to get more food. The chicken in the fridge was bad, but then again … Poe enjoyed that. He nipped the stinking meat from his hand and obnoxiously ate it on his shoulder as Athan checked the front door to make sure Sarah was locked in. He set Poe up on his perch stand in his bedroom and pulled his pants off on the way into the bathroom.

It was amazing how often a scalding hot shower remedied things. If he was ever overly-stressed, or had too much going on—or perhaps taken a bullet or two—he could always count on this water pressure in his crappy apartment. And he’d always prefer said crappy apartment, to the melancholy darkness of that club. He soaped up and rinsed out his hair quickly before bracing his palms against the tile and dropping his head underneath the steady stream of water. The pad of his thumb smoothed over the cracks he and Sarah had left when he’d taken her against the wall. He smiled to himself at the thought. So much had happened in the course of nearly three months. His entire life had changed. As he hung his head and stared at the water rushing down his legs, he filtered through every moment he could remember of the night he’d killed Sarah St. James.

He had been screaming inside. Fighting with everything in him to turn around and disappear into the stormy night. That hunger was so fierce that he had no choice but to watch as if he were outside of his body when she’d spooked and started to flee the alley. He couldn’t even remember how she felt in his arms when he’d grabbed her and tore into her skin. All he could remember feeling is the numb helplessness when he’d finally gotten back control of himself—and by then it was too late. She was so beautiful … even in death. That death was so violent, but she never screamed. She didn’t scream this time either, when he was forced to watch her die a second time, albeit more peacefully. He never wanted to watch it again.

Athan startled, lost in his deep thoughts as two slender arms coiled around him from behind, and a soft body pressed against his back. He raised his head, still facing the wall as water poured down his face. He lowered a hand to slide down one of her arms, holding them to him as he turned his head over his shoulder.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, softly.

“No,” Sarah whispered, pressing her cheek against his back and squeezing around him.

“I wanted to be there when you woke up. I’m sorry, love.”

Sarah kissed his bare back. “You are here. Don’t be sorry.”

“How do you feel?”

She rested her chin on his spine. “I—” she paused, her teeth clicking when she closed her mouth. “I’ve always had impeccable eyesight. It always irritated the piss out of my mom. She had contacts for as long as I can remember, and she had to wear glasses when she drove. When I woke up just now … the first thing I noticed was how incredibly aware I was of everything around me. Like it all intensified. It’s like I was always only seeing a fourth of everything.” Athan snickered and laced his fingers through hers. “Mom would shit a brick.” She laughed.

He slowly turned himself around in her hold, water pooling between the spot where their bodies met. “Yeah, that might take some getting used to. Do your arms hurt?” Sarah leaned her face out of the pounding water above them and scrunched her face.

“Yeah … so do my legs. I mean, it isn’t terrible. Just a dull ache, but …”

“Adjusting to an immortal body isn’t as easy as one would think. You’ll feel better in a couple days.” Sarah eyed his neck, now healed, and brushed the back of her knuckles across it. “It wasn’t your imagination. You did do it.” He smiled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what—”

“Sarah …” He pulled her closer and pressed their heads together, both their faces dripping hot water. “I’m fine. I’m happy to be your next meal in more ways than one.” She snorted, and hooked her arms around his neck, and Athan sighed against her mouth.

“Why do you seem so sad? Are you angry with me, detective?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose. “God, no …” he breathed, stroking the side of her face. “I just …” Sarah reached up and traced his jawline with her fingers. What would he have done if she wasn’t in this world anymore? If he couldn’t hold her like this? Athan took her wrist and pressed his lips into her palm. “I thought I’d lost you for a minute.”

Sarah rested her head against his chest, holding him close. “For a minute, so did I …” It had to be a coincidence that she laid right over the tattoo they shared. Or maybe it wasn’t. She kissed over it, lingering against his skin as water rushed between them. “I heard you. I was in this … place. I saw my mom.”

Athan pulled away to look at her and lowered his brows. “A place?”

Sarah nodded. “Yeah … she called it ‘the veil’ and said neither of us could stay. I saw her. I could touch her … talk to her.”

“What did she say to you? ”

“She told me to stop looking for answers. Said that she wanted me to drop it, basically. She thinks the truth will only hurt me more. Whatever that means.”

Athan smoothed her wet hair over her shoulders. “So, she wouldn’t tell you who did it?”

“No,” Sarah said, shaking her head and staring at his tattoos. “She wants me to let it go and live my life. But before she disappeared and sent me back, I forced a name out of her.”

“Her killer?”

Sarah slowly raised her eyes back to him. “My father.”

He didn’t know what to say. All the time that she’d spent that close to death all he could see was her limp body, slowly dying. She had been somewhere else entirely, and still fighting not for her life … but for the answers to every mystery that plagued her. It was just as heartbreaking as it was admirable, and he fell a little deeper in love with her right then.

“I couldn’t see her anymore and my body hurt all over. Everything was such a blur at the end. I heard your voice the minute I was thrown back.” Her fingers grazed the tattoo on his breast. “I felt you, Athan. I felt everything. I felt your pain … your fear. You really fucking love me, huh?” She smiled, flattening her hand on his chest.

He didn’t realize how much his breathing had quickened while she spoke. Didn’t notice how much his need for her had grown in the last few seconds. He took the back of her head, tilting it back and grazing her bottom lip with his teeth. “Oh, baby … you have no idea.” That kiss was vicious … deep. “You’ve absolutely ruined me, Sarah St. James.”

“Damaged …” she whispered, kissing him back like she was starving for him. “Now I’m just as ruined as you are.”

His blood burned. He turned and backed her against the wall, never breaking their kiss as he hoisted her up and she hooked her legs around his hips. “Don’t you ever die on me again,” he growled.

“Nevermore.”