Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 34

THE HUNT

Sarah laid the hairbrush down on the bathroom counter, peering at her reflection in the foggy mirror. She was still the same … but so different. On the inside, she felt like she could take on an army. On the outside … she still looked like a cleaner version of that girl in the alley. Even the scar that Athan had left on her neck seemed lighter, but somehow remained. She remembered telling him she’d likely tattoo over it, but now—now it was the mark that would forever remind her of the man she’d never dream of living without. Not ever. Athan stepped in, shirtless and drying his hair with a towel. He leaned over her shoulder, catching her gaze in the mirror.

“You alright?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her damp skin. “Rhaena’s waiting for you.”

“How can I look so normal, but feel so damn strange?” She pressed around her cheekbones and leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting her strange new eyes. They were tinged with flecks of deep crimson between the colors she was so used to seeing. “Well … almost normal.”

Athan chuckled. “It’ll fade out. You’re a newborn. In a few days, you won’t see the red anymore.”

“My scars are gone.” Sarah pointed out, smoothing her hand down a couple places on her arm. “All of them … except this one.” She brushed her fingertips over her neck.

Athan set the towel in a heap on the counter and nestled into her neck as he wrapped his arms around her. “You’ll keep that one forever. It’s your—” he stopped dead and slowly turned his face back to the mirror, his lips slightly parted in a sudden thought.

“What’s wrong?”

“I—” He stared at her neck in the mirror. “You’re the first … person I’ve ever sired.”

Sired … made.

Sarah dropped her mouth open. “Oh …” She bit her lip. “Does that mean—”

“It means, now …” he brushed his tongue over the shell of her ear, “you have to do what I say.”

Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes, elbowing him in the ribs, and earning a pained groan through his laugh. “Oh, fuck that. Nope.”

“You have to!” Athan cackled, wrestling with her as she tried to turn around and leave the bathroom. He braced his hands on either side of her against the counter and nipped her neck .

“Stop, you psycho!” Sarah laughed, fighting him off. “Get outta the damn way!”

“Drop the towel … get on your knees.” He lowered his voice into a playful purr against her skin, and before she could come up with a clever retort, she found herself doing exactly what he asked. She had no control over herself and gawked at the zipper on his ripped jeans when she ended up eye-level with it.

“Oh, what the fuck! Are you kidding me?” She whacked him in the thigh, and he cracked, a full-bellied laugh echoing through the bathroom. She’d never heard him laugh like that before, and something inside her melted. He helped her up off the floor, and gently kissed her.

“You’re such an asshole,” she grinned, kissing him back.

“I would never do that to you … so we’re clear.” Athan pulled her close and toyed with the dimples on her lower back with his thumb. While it was playful and made her smile … she couldn’t help but think of the life he must have had seeing to Dahlia’s every desire against his will, and it hurt deeper now than it had when he’d told her about it. It didn’t make her need to slaughter the bitch any easier.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Sarah whispered, kissing his chin. “I hope I wouldn’t need to sire you to get you to go put some damn clothes on. You’re driving me crazy.”

Athan pressed his lips to her forehead and chuckled. “I’m flattered … but that’s another side effect of being what we are.”

“So … what? I’m gonna be horny all the damn time, now?”

Another adorable laugh.

Damn, this man.

“Essentially.” He grinned. He pulled her towel around her and tucked the corner between her breasts. “Good thing I’m always up for—”

Sarah slapped him in the corded muscle of his bicep, and tried not to think too long on how delicious he looked right now. “Get out! ” she laughed. He put his forearm defensively in front of him and giggled the whole way out of the bathroom, grabbing his shirt off the bed and winking on his way to meet Rhaena in the living room. She dressed quickly, using the last of what she’d brought. A pair of high-waisted jeans, and a fitted black turtleneck. Rhaena popped her head over her laptop as Sarah crept into the living room.

“John Allan? Do you know how many John Allans there are, just in the Boston area alone?” Rhaena barked, shaking her head.

“Morning, Rhae …” Sarah smiled, meeting her eyes. Rhaena’s face softened.

“How are you feeling? You look … beautiful .” Her eyes boggled, looking over every inch. Athan stepped out of the kitchen with two mugs of coffee, smiling as he handed one to Sarah. She took it and nodded at Rhaena.

“I’m—I feel like I could rip somebody apart and not break a sweat. ”

“God … I’d ask if you got that violence from him, but I know better.” Rhaena snorted and looked back at her screen. “You might actually be able to kick my ass, now.”

“You wound me.” Sarah snickered, sipping from her mug. She winced, pulling her face away and scrunching it as she swallowed.

“If it tastes like shit, Rhaena made it.” Athan gestured toward Rhaena with his mug.

“Asshat …” Rhaena grumbled under her breath, sipping from her own mug. “Tastes just fine to me.”

It was her vice. Her favorite thing in the world, but somehow … it tasted bitter and unpleasant. It wasn’t at all what she wanted. That notion alone was difficult to grasp. What was even more alarming is what she found herself craving instead. Sarah lowered her mug and looked at Athan.

“Do you … have any bags left?” she asked, noticing Rhaena’s attention dart up from her computer. Athan’s expression flattened, growing more understanding by the second.

“Oh … shit. I’m sorry, Sarah, I didn’t think … yeah, I do.” He took her mug and went back to shuffle around in the kitchen. Sarah glanced at Rhaena as she sat frozen on the leather couch. He came back with the same mug of coffee. It felt a few degrees cooler in her hand.

“You—added it?” Sarah asked, not able to help her smirk as she drew her brows at him.

“Rhaena can’t deal. I just had the thought, really … but I tasted it and …” he paused and smacked his lips, “it’s pretty fucking amazing, actually.”

Sarah took a careful sip. God, it was glorious. Like the taste of that blood was made to compliment the roast. Like it brought every flavor of those beans out and perfected it. “Oh, my damn.” She hummed into the mug, drinking two more heavy swallows. “That … is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Rhaena gagged, turning her face away.

“I’m sorry, Rhaena … I—”

“Stop, no. You’re perfectly fine, I just—come over here, look at this.” Rhaena turned the laptop, and Sarah and Athan stepped over to look. It was a very long list of names. “I really have no idea how we’re gonna find this guy with nothing to go on but a name as common as John Allan.”

“Well,” Sarah started, “I don’t think we’d start here. Mom’s always lived in Seattle.”

“You make an excellent point,” Rhaena added, quirking her mouth to the side. “However … that list will probably triple in a city the size of frickin’ Seattle.”

“We don’t need to do this right now, anyway. What’s the latest on Wren?” Sarah asked, finishing off her coffee. Athan promptly took the mug and went to refill it.

Rhaena sighed deeply, turning the laptop back around. “A whole lot of nothing. Brandon has been busting ass at the precinct looking for clues. He’s actually at the coffee shop now, questioning everybody he can think of. Foster’s with him.” Her eyes rolled.

Athan came back with another mug, and Sarah nearly jerked it out of his hand. She caught the hint of a smile on his face. “Has anybody talked to Brent since we were at the apartment?” Sarah asked, drinking down half the mug.

“No. He’s been radio silent and practically invisible since he left.” Rhaena shut the laptop and scratched her head. “Should we call?”

Sarah thought back to the surprised look Athan had noticed on Brent’s face that day. He knew something. It was time to fess up. “I’ll call,” she said, turning her coffee back up, and turning to walk to Athan’s room.

Brent sat in the red, cracked leather booth where he’d found Wren the day that he’d hit that jock. The usual happenings of the bar continued on without her as if the place itself didn’t blink an eye at her absence. He wiped his greasy hand on a wet napkin and scrolled through the most recent articles about his father. He was desperately searching. For what, though … he wasn’t entirely sure. A reason for him not to believe his father would be capable of something like this? Or was it the proof he needed to confirm that he was, and that Wren was probably at that mansion, or somewhere worse, going through God only knew what. He chewed on his soggy buffalo wings, filtering through bullshit article after bullshit article. His phone started buzzing on the table. It took monumental effort not to slide the ignore button.

“Yes?” he answered, gritting his teeth.

“Morning to you, too,” Sarah drawled.

“It’s three in the afternoon, Sarah.”

“Hm … so it is. Where are you?”

“Eating a late lunch. What do you need?”

“I get the feeling you’re not thrilled to hear from me, Brent.”

“Look, I’m not in the mood, and I’m kinda busy. Is there a reason you’re calling?” He could hear her softly snicker on the other end.

“Amazing. You wait until we’re over to start being the hard one. I’ve been a bad influence on you, Stratford.”

Brent couldn’t help but smirk. “Sorry … I’m just stressed out.”

“Well, I’m sure it hasn’t helped that I’ve been quite the bitch lately. I’m not gonna beat a dead horse, so I’ll just cut to the dirty shit, okay?”

“By dirty, I’m sure you don’t mean the good kind.”

“You’re perceptive.”

“What’s up?”

“Look, it’s obvious that you know something. I might have been clueless when we were together, but I’m far from clueless now. Do you know if your dad has anything to do with Wren’s kidnapping? ”

Brent felt his stomach churn. “You say that like you think I had something to do with it.”

“I would ask if you did, but I don’t believe that. Then again, I didn’t think you could burn me the way you did, either.”

“I don’t really know how many other ways I can express my apology for that, Sarah. You have to know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Wren. We’re not fond of each other, but I’d never hurt her.”

“I believe you, Brent.”

He chewed his bottom lip. “I don’t know for sure. But … yes. I suspect he could have something to do with it. Or everything . The problem is, I can’t find any proof. I’ve spent the last two hours going through any appearance he’s made that the press was able to dig up, and if he did do it, he’s getting a lot better at covering his ass.”

“I’m impressed. That’s a good place to start.”

“Yeah, well … I’m no detective , I guess.”

Sarah huffed a laugh. “Well played.”

“I thought so, too.” The corners of his eyes tightened in a smile that didn’t curl his mouth. “I don’t really have anything other than my suspicion, Sarah. I’m sorry. I wish I could be more help. I wanna find her as much as you do.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Why?”

He matched her silence. “… I dunno.”

“I think I do.”

He drew his brows together. “Wh—what do you mean?”

“Nothing. Look, um … is there any chance we could all be civil around each other and meet up? For Wren’s sake, at least? Maybe tonight, or tomorrow?”

“I … ah … I can’t do it tomorrow. I’ve run into a personal issue of my own. I need to take care of some things. I’m not sure how much of my day that’s gonna take up.”

“What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He debated whether or not to tell her, but Sarah had always been so kind to his mother. And Patricia adored her. Sarah did, after all, give him an opportunity to offer that blood to save her life. It wasn’t her fault that Pat had chosen not to use it. “… Not really. Mom died.”

“No …” Sarah grew quiet for a moment. “Brent, I—I’m really sorry … she was a really good woman.”

He swallowed, softly nodding. “Yeah … yeah, she was.” He glanced up, a familiar SUV catching sunlight as the back door opened and shining a blinding glare into his eyes. He narrowed them at the figure that stepped out and cursed under his breath.

“What is it?” He watched his father step out and walk into the pharmacy across the street, a lone bodyguard trailing behind him. “Brent?”

“Call it fate, but I’m looking right at the son-of-a-bitch. He’s going into Finch it even surprises me.” Brent met him at the end of the aisle and briefly stood face-to-face with him before his bodyguard came between them. Conrad peered at his son over the hulking shoulder. “Not that it should, knowing what I know. But if Mom knew what you did to—”

“Shut your mouth, boy. I didn’t kidnap anyone. You’re not going to slander my name with your bullshit. The new boyfriend got you wanting to play detective, now? You think that’ll win her back?”

Brent’s brows raised and he cocked his head. There was a short pause, and a deafening silence between them. “Who said anything about a kidnapping?” The half-smile on his mouth nearly made him vomit. He’d blindly made a massive error in his attempt to sting his son with his weakness, and there was no taking it back. Conrad clenched his teeth, his jaw feathering as he dropped the basket to the floor and left Brent standing by himself.

“We’re leaving,” he said, trying to hide his sudden panic at his mistake as he charged for the door. His guard kept close, and Brent didn’t follow. On his way out the door, he spotted Sarah St. James and her detective stepping out of an unmarked black car across the street. He paused as he met her eyes—so did she. She was right there. The living vessel that carried the only thing he needed. She knew it. He glanced at the detective, who smirked at him, daring him to make a move.

Their silent conversation was cut off by the sound of camera shutters, and paparazzi that came out of seemingly nowhere, calling his name. Shouted questions started pouring in from every direction and his guard shielded him as he hurried him into the SUV, slamming the door shut. As they pulled off, he stared after St. James, who almost looked as if she could see him through the illegal tint on his window, and he could have sworn something was different about her. Something darker than the way she’d looked at the benefit. As the corner of her mouth curled up, he felt a chill creep over his spine.

He’d fucked up. Amateur. Fool. Dead man.

“Well … he looks chipper.” Sarah smirked as Athan eyed the black SUV until it was out of sight. Some of the parasites followed down the sidewalk with their cameras, and of course … some didn’t, turning their attention first to him and Sarah, and then to Brent as he walked out of the pharmacy entrance. Athan took Sarah’s hand and stormed toward a particularly brave photographer who continued to let his shutter fly off as they approached.

“Take another one …” Athan seethed, baring his teeth. “I fucking dare you to do it.” The young, greasy-haired kid’s throat bobbed as he lowered his camera. The few that were left nearby paused their snapping and closely watched as Athan protectively pulled Sarah around his back. “You’ve all got two seconds to clear out. The last time this happened, there were several thousand dollars in broken equipment, and that won’t hold a candle to your hospital bills.”

Brent met eyes with Athan and stood still as the hounds scattered off, several of them muttering insults, or expletives as they left. They met Brent on the other side of the street and Sarah gripped Athan’s hand as they closed the space. “You didn’t have to come to my rescue, Sarah. I told you I’d call you back.”

Athan had to admit, he was a little surprised when Sarah stepped up, letting go of his hand and pulling Stratford into a hug. “I’m really sorry … about your mom.” While it was irritating, he understood it. Some parts of Sarah would never change, and the one thing Dahlia hated more than anything, was his leftover respect for humanity. He prayed she’d never lose it. Stratford patted her back lightly, and eased her off, glancing at Athan briefly as he did so.

Wise choice, Stratford.

“Sorry for your loss,” Athan offered, extending his hand. Brent hesitated but took it and shook gently.

“I appreciate it. Just keep that to yourselves, would you? I’m not making that news public, yet. ”

Sarah slid into Athan’s arm, seeming to be slightly bothered by the sunlight as she shielded her new eyes with her hand over her brow. “Why?” she asked, innocently. Brent narrowed his eyes, staring at her curiously for a moment, and then adjusted his attention to his feet.

“I—” Brent twitched his mouth. “I don’t want him to know anything yet. He doesn’t deserve it. I just need a little more time to keep her to myself, I guess. When he finds out, he’ll milk it. The press will eat it up, and she’ll disappear. My mom deserves better than that.”

He couldn’t help but agree with him, and for the first time, a small part of Athan felt sorry for Brent Stratford. Sarah shifted on her feet. “Did you figure anything out?” she asked.

Brent was quiet for a moment, but then shook his head and sighed. “No. Just the typical bullshit he always gives. It never ends well. I’m sorry, Sarah.”

“No explanation for the blood I could smell from all the way over there?” She jerked her head towards Athan’s car across the street and Brent’s eyes narrowed into slits as he peered at her in question, a deep crease forming between his brows.

“You’ve changed. You’re—” Brent paused glancing at Athan. “That’s what’s different today.” It was almost as if all of a sudden, that notion didn’t bother the lawyer as much.

“I’m still me, Brent.”

“I can see that. But doesn’t that mean …” he paused, looking between them both. “Did you … die?”

Athan swallowed, fighting back the urge to grind his teeth at the image of her flat-lining in that lab, and tightened his arm around her.

“I’m okay. Apparently, six feet isn’t enough to keep me down.” Sarah shrugged and smiled at him. Athan leaned in close to her.

Something’s up, Sarah … he’s hiding something.

Sarah shifted again, growing still as she took a harder look at her ex. He still had his hands in his pockets, and seemed as if he were growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

You think there was more to that little “meet-cute” in the store?

Whatever that was. Athan tried earnestly not to snort.

Only one way to find out. Keep him busy. I’m going inside.

He nodded at Stratford, and Sarah’s fingers lingered around his as he pulled away and made to step around the lawyer and open the door. “Be right back.” He lifted her knuckles to his mouth and bit down on them playfully before he let go of her hand.

“Not to sound stupid, but what could either of you possibly need from a drug store?” Brent asked, almost jokingly. Sarah, being the quick-witted asshole that he loved, supplied an excuse he knew Brent would likely be thinking far too much about for a while.

“Condoms,” she spat, quirking a brow. Athan found it impossible to stifle his laugh, then. He didn’t stick around to see the look on Brent’s face, although he found himself immediately regretting it.

He walked in, seeing only two or three customers busying themselves around the small shelves, and one of the staff picking through a discarded basket on the floor. Athan approached her, and when she looked up at him, she nearly toppled over, catching herself and flushing a shade of red before raising from a squat.

“C-can I help you, sir?” she asked, wiping her hands on her shirt.

“Yes … I’m Detective Athan Kane with the Boston Police Department.” Athan went for his badge but forgot that he didn’t have it to flash at her anymore. As the young girl appeared not to give half a shit, he continued, “Was that basket, by chance, left by the gentleman that just walked out with a bodyguard?”

“Uh … yeah, actually,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear, and reaching down for the basket. She raised it and held it between them. “Doesn’t look like much. Just a couple bottles of peroxide and some gauze.”

“Did you happen to catch much of the conversation that was had before he left?” An older woman peeked from around the end of the aisle and raised a finger at him.

“I heard a bit.” She seemed like one of those neighbors that lived for gossip and knew everyone’s business. Exactly the type he needed right now. Athan thanked the girl and stepped toward the woman.

“What can you tell me, dove?” he smiled, politely. He made sure to butter his voice into a flattering, flirty tone. The woman blushed.

“They were talking about some questionable friends, the young guy’s sick mother … and some redhead. It sort of piqued my interest when I heard the word ‘kidnapping’, but when I started to pay closer attention, the man walked out with the big guy.”

“Anything else?”

She shook her head slowly, shrugging. “Not that I could gather. Something about a horse?”

“I heard them both mention something about a restraining order a few times,” the young girl with the basket added, placing Conrad’s items back on the shelf. Athan turned himself to face her.

“That’s helpful. Thank you, both.” He dipped his chin and started down the aisle toward the door, stopping short as he passed the younger girl. She eyed his every move, staring after him like she’d salivate.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, detective?” she blushed.

“Actually …” Athan snatched a box of condoms off the shelf and teetered it between his fingers. “I need to check out.”

The older woman cleared her throat and turned around to make herself invisible, and the young girl nearly choked on her own breath. “I—um … I can … take you—check you out over here.” She turned a bright shade of red, and rubbed the back of her neck as she led him towards the register.