Black bird a nevermore d.., p.34
Black Bird: A Nevermore Duet, page 34
Wren Vintorri: Hey … just wanted to let you know that I’m with Sarah at her place … she’s asleep and everything is fine. Cops are downstairs. Don’t be too hard on Northwood. Here if you need me. Be back tomorrow after work.
His heart nearly stopped when a picture came through of Sarah soundly sleeping in her own bed. She certainly didn’t look like she’d just been through the ringer. Her tattooed hand was curled beneath her chin, and he could almost feel the warmth of her body as she snuggled beneath that tattered blanket she kept on her bed. Damn, he missed her. It was still strange to feel this way about anyone, let alone a woman like her that he’d gladly rip his own heart out for. He snapped a photo of Rhaena, sent it and texted her back.
Me: … don’t worry … she passed out before I could string her up and beat her like a dirty rug. Glad everything mellowed out between you two … later.
Another text popped up, this time from someone he hadn’t expected.
Nick Specter: Hey man, I need you at the office. We’ve got a problem.
Any warm, snuggly feelings he had vanished. Athan dressed quickly, grabbing his gun and badge and making sure Poe’s cage was secure before locking Rhaena in. The tagged key to his new wheels dangled from his finger and the elevator doors opened. Athan cracked his knuckles as he stepped inside and leaned against the back wall, his need for trouble growing more satisfied as the doors slowly closed. He smirked as he slipped a cigarette into his mouth and disappeared from view.
Nick tapped his foot nervously under his desk while he waited for a response from Kane. All had seemed quiet as far as his deception in sneaking those blood bags out of the hospital and handing them over to the Devil himself. He was pretty positive Kane hadn’t figured that out yet, if for no other reason than Nick was still breathing air. He knew deep down that it would only be a matter of time before that changed. He’d tried calling St. James several times this morning to let her know not to come into work, but it kept going straight to her voicemail. The desk phone beeped.
“Detective Kane is here, sir.”
“Yep, send him in.”
Kane stepped through the door, closing it softly behind him. “Specter.” He inclined his head and walked over to the chair across from his desk to sit.
“You’re scruffier than I’ve seen you. Everything okay?” Nick pointed out as he sat down.
“Been better. What’s going on?”
“Do you have any idea where St. James is?”
“Why?” Kane’s face revealed nothing.
“I’ve tried calling her all morning and haven’t been able to reach her.”
“She’s safe.”
Nick propped his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. “Can you keep her away from the lab? Maybe take her somewhere?”
“Get to the point, Nick.”
Nick sighed sharply. “Fine. She’s been testing some shit outside of what we have for her to work on. Not that it’s a problem where we’re concerned, she actually does an immaculate job and we’re lucky to have her even considering how she ended up here. However …”
Kane quirked a brow. “However …?”
“What she tested, she logged. You know the government can look at whatever they want. She’s made it onto their radar. All her shit was claimed by the government, and I was forced to sign a document that says the facility and its employees relinquish all rights to the research. It’s gone. All of it.”
“She told me that she tested her own blood. Was there anything else?”
“Yes … this.” He reached into a drawer under his desk and dug out the glass container, sliding it across toward Kane. “I’m not sure what this is, but I managed to get my hands on it before they sent people here to take it from us.” He watched Kane’s expression change when he examined the contents. Dark and light purple shards of stone with flecks of gray and silver. “After she ran tests on it, she searched for a very specific virus in the database. I’m thinking that was what sounded the alarm on their end. We don’t have any record of what she was looking for.”
“What are you planning to do with this?” Kane asked, raising the small glass container and teetering it between his fingers.
“I was going to give it back to her, though I think it might be best for her to lay low for a while. They’re looking for her. It won’t take government lackeys very long to pin her down.”
Kane grew quiet and stared down at the contents of the container. “These are her mother’s ashes. She used to wear them around her neck. She must have busted the stone apart to test it.”
“I see … so the virus?”
“She’s trying to find answers,” he breathed.
Nick leaned back in his chair. “She’s got a damn army after her. If I were in her position, I’d find a way out of this whole country.”
“What good would it do, Nick? You know just as well as I do that our demons will follow us wherever we go.”
“What do we do, then?”
They both quieted and Kane lifted his eyes. Nick watched the blue turn to the darkest black he’d ever seen. It was like staring death right in its face. The black spread like ink until there was no white left in his eyes at all.
“We let them. If they’re brave enough … they’ll have me to deal with,” he said in a voice that had every hair standing on end. A wicked smirk curled up one side of Kane’s mouth and Nick swallowed hard.
“Could you return that to her for me? Tell her that her job is safe. I just want her to remain safe as well.”
Kane raised up from his chair, his eyes returning to their normal color. “Thanks for the heads up. If anything else seems off, I would assume you know to call me.”
“You got it.” Nick nodded, stiffly.
The detective didn’t say another word. He spun his keys around his finger and headed for the door. He wished he could have the confidence that man had. There wasn’t anything Nick wouldn’t do for the sake of his family, but even dying for them might not be enough to keep them safe. Maybe becoming whatever Kane was would benefit him. As the door shut and he was left alone, he reminded himself of how unhappy anyone associated with that coven seemed to be … even with immortality.
Nick let that idea slip right out of his head.
There were tears, and plenty of photos taken with grateful parents and sick children as Conrad Stratford met with hospital staff and cancer-stricken families that should have made him feel … bad about this. As he shook hands with the president of the children’s hospital, and carried a list in his pocket of possible candidates to receive a trial of the drug he was hoping to present to the world, he wondered why he felt nothing. His wretched existence must have finally consumed him at this point. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation to look down at the top five names of those children and try to make a decision. All were willing recipients, per their desperate parents, and all were under ten years old.
He found two with the same condition. The one he was most inclined to try for. Acute myeloid leukemia—cancer of the blood. Decidedly, the most fatal with the lowest survival rate after five years of diagnosis. Conrad spoke with a nurse to find the room where the first child sat occupied with two books in her lap, surprised to see her alone. His secretary, Gretchen, followed behind him and pushed the press back as she closed the door behind them.
“Good afternoon.” He smiled, seeming everything like the caring father he wasn’t. “Are you Anne?” The frail little girl looked up from her books at him, her head bare and bruised. As were several other places on her arms and hands.
“Depends on who’s asking … are you here to pump me with more crap?” she asked. Conrad smiled at her boldness.
“My name is Conrad. I’m—”
“I know who you are.” She closed her book and sat up straighter. “You’re the senator with the dashing son.”
Gretchen snorted as she stood with her leather binder by the door. He was inclined to follow up with a chuckle of his own. “How old are you, Anne?”
“I’ll be ten next month … that is, if I make it that long.” She leaned back against a stack of pillows. He admired her spunk.
“You don’t sound like a ten-year-old girl. I would have guessed at least sixteen.” He gestured toward her books. “What are you reading?”
“Books about law … and one true crime story when my mom isn’t around.”
“That’s a little stiff for a girl your age, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “I know what I want. If I don’t live to be old enough to get it, then at least I can pretend there’s hope while I’m still here.”
“And what is it that you want, Anne?” he asked, stepping closer.
“I wanna be a lawyer. The kind that makes headlines. A badass in a suit that nobody wants to mess with … not even disease.” She smirked. “You know … kinda like your son.”
Conrad huffed a laugh. “I see. So that’s why you know him.”
“Oh, if I live through this, I’m gonna marry him.”
He and Gretchen had a good laugh at that one. He pulled a chair up to the side of her bed. “May I?” he asked. Anne nodded. Conrad sat and scooted closer. Cameras flashed outside the window by the door. “Where are your parents?”
“Downstairs having lunch with my older sister. I’ve been waiting for them to leave so I could get my book out.”
“I’m sorry we disturbed you.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugged again. “So … are you gonna tell me why you’re here?”
“Straight to the point. I like it.” He smiled. “I came to offer you a way out. Your parents applied for a clinical trial since you haven’t been responding to treatment. I wanted to offer you a place in the trial if you’re interested … personally.”
“Why would a senator be offering me something like that instead of a doctor?”
Conrad leaned forward. “Because I’m half the reason the option exists. And I’m looking for the bravest soldiers. You seem like you’re one of those.”
She quieted, staring him down and narrowing her eyes. It was several moments before she spoke again. He could see the wheels turning in her pale head. “You know, if we do nothing … I’m dead anyway. I’ve been a pincushion for three years. My friends stopped coming around. My teachers don’t check on me anymore. The next time anybody sees me I’ll be in a box. Screw it. If my mom and dad are cool with it, then I’m in.”
“That’s the spirit.” He winked.
“I have one condition, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, if you want people to do this trial … I’m sure there’s something in it for you. It must be really important for you to take the time to come up here and talk to me. So …” She shifted and turned her body toward him, propping her elbows on her lap and resting her chin on her palms. “I wanna meet him.”
“Meet who? Brent?” She nodded and a soft smile graced her pale, chapped lips. This child was so sick. He was a monster. “I think I can arrange that.”
“Big wig politicians shake hands on things when they make big deals like this, right?” She extended her small hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
He reached out, taking her cold fingers. They shook hands and she grinned. “You’re something else, Anne. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
“Call me Annie. We’ll need to be better acquainted if I’m gonna marry your kid.”
Conrad chuckled, nodding his head. “Well then, Annie … welcome to the family.” He stood, turning to a small bookshelf in the corner and plucking out a thick novel. He peeled the dust jacket off and replaced the book. “Here,” he said, handing her the paper. “Slip that around your book. Mom will never know.” He gave her a sly wink.
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” She grinned, fitting the dust jacket over the book. “Genius. I guess it’s true what they say.”
“What’s that?”
“Politicians are good liars.” The cunning little girl winked back at him, and something stirred in his gut.
“Well, you can be sure I’m not lying when I say I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Annie.” He dipped his chin and adjusted his tie, stepping out of the door Gretchen opened. Cameras continued to flash as they made their way down the hall.
“What a kid.” Gretchen smiled as they neared the elevator.
“Indeed,” he agreed.
CHAPTER 15
THE BENEFIT
Brent stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves and straightening the black bow tie at his neck. He couldn’t shake off how nervous he felt. Couldn’t determine whether it was because of what could possibly happen at this event … or because of the woman he was about to go pick up. As if she sensed exactly that, his phone started ringing. He slid the call open and put in on speaker, sitting it back down on the bathroom sink.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said, immediately regretting it and wincing at how stupid it sounded.
“Oh, yeah? Were you thinking about all the ways I’ve probably come up with to nail your balls to the fancy podium while everybody watches?” Sarah said with zero sarcasm.
“That’s nice, Sarah. Is this how we’re gonna be all night?”
“It is if you’re not gonna refrain from saying stupid shit like that.”
“Fair enough. Should I just be the quiet escort all evening?”
“Well, I don’t think you’ve ever been capable of that, Brent. Let me be clear. I will never … ever … date you again. There’s not even the slightest chance. If you think that me seeking you out for this is anything short of settling the debt between us, then feel free to leave the benefit as soon as you’re able to get me in the door. Are we on the same page?”
Brent paused his fiddling with his hair and tuxedo and stared down at the picture of them in happier days as the call duration ticked by. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, we’re on the same page.”
“Good. So what time are you picking me up?”
“I’m leaving in about twenty minutes. I should be there right at six.”
“Mm’kay.”
She hung up without saying another word and his breath slowly left his lungs. He hated this feeling. How had this gone so wrong? How did he let it? Brent tried to muster up all his remaining dignity on the drive over to Sarah’s apartment. As he pulled up, the street was filled with cars parked in any available spot. The art gallery beneath her place was having some show, and the entrance was crowded. He decided to circle the block and texted her that he was there.
Sarah: I’m coming out. Park a little ways down the street and I’ll walk down.
When he rounded the corner and passed her apartment, he didn’t see her in the throng of people outside the building. He did as she asked and found a spot on her side of the street. It wasn’t a far walk, but depending on what she was wearing it might prove a bit uncomfortable. Brent got out of the car and waited by the passenger side door until he heard heels clacking on the sidewalk and turned his face toward it.
God help him. She was devastating.
Her hair was down and curled at the ends. Her black dress was fitted to her bust and hugged her slim waist, the thick shoulder straps draped loosely down the side of each of her shoulders. The skirt flowed elegantly to the ground with a split that was cut clean up her pale, tattooed thigh. The closer she got, he realized the gown was made of crushed black velvet. She’d be giving the tabloids something to talk about tonight. Sarah St. James was dressed to kill. Two officers in uniform flanked her as she strode toward him.
“I’ll go ahead and assume by your vacant expression that this is appropriate?” she asked, slowing in front of him.
Brent swallowed. “I’d say so, yes ma’am.”
“Get your fill. That’s the only time I better catch you eye-fucking me tonight.”
One of the cops huffed a laugh behind her.
“You look beautiful … really. And I mean that in the most respectful way.” Brent smirked, opening the car door. Sarah dismissed his compliment and turned to her watch dogs.
“I appreciate all you’ve done, but I need you guys to give me some space tonight. I promise …” She held her palms up. “I won’t do anything ridiculous. Scout’s honor.”
“That’s not really how this works, Miss St. James. The only one who can give us clearance is Northwood or Kane. If they say we can leave you on your own, then we will. Otherwise … you’re kind of stuck with us. I’m sorry.” The cop with the thin mustache shrugged. Brent shifted on his feet, remembering his conversation with Kane. He assumed Sarah wasn’t aware when she didn’t retort and decided he would keep those details to himself, lest he fuck up yet again.
“Well call one of them, then,” Sarah insisted, placing a hand on her hip. The officer nodded, and turned away while he rang one of them, leaving the other officer standing with her. “You don’t say much, do you?” Brent watched the young cop stiffen.
“No ma’am,” he replied.
“I know another cop like that. He’s not the happiest person. Just some food for thought.” She turned and leaned against Brent’s car.
“I’m just the shy type.” The officer smirked.
“Mmm.” Sarah nodded. Officer Mustache returned and jerked his head toward her.
“Northwood said you’re good to go, and she asked that you don’t make her regret it. Her words, not mine.”
“Awesome,” she chirped, pushing off the car. “Let’s go.”
Brent closed the door after she tucked into the seat and rounded the hood, sliding back behind the wheel and hooking his seatbelt. They rode in silence for a while. He dared a glance at her.
“Brent, I wasn’t kidding. I’ll pluck your eyes out,” she warned, staring ahead.
“Sorry.” He chuckled, watching the road. “I’ve just never seen you in fake lashes before. I thought you’d lay in traffic before you ever did something like that.”
