Black bird a nevermore d.., p.70
Black Bird: A Nevermore Duet, page 70
“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.
CHAPTER 35
BLOOD BARGAIN
The end of his pen tapped loudly against a stack of paperwork he’d tried his best to concentrate on, as Captain Foley sat unusually late at his desk at the 12th precinct. He sighed deeply and ran his palm across his bare head. It was damp with sweat. The pen dropped, rolling across the stack and stopping where it met his name plate at the edge. A pair of worn black shoes appeared in his line of sight at his doorway. Foley glanced up.
“Do you ever sleep, sir?” Jenkins asked, leaning against the door jamb. Foley scoffed, shaking his head.
“About as much as you probably do, detective. You got something for me?”
“I’d reckon this is semi-lucky. Could I borrow you for five minutes?”
Foley followed him to his desk, surprised to find Rhaena Northwood sitting there as she leaned into the monitor and clicked away with the mouse. Her attention shot up as he approached, and he caught the slight tension in her face before she tried to pass it off, pretending it never happened.
“Evening, sir,” she nodded.
“Gloves.” He nodded back. “What are we lookin’ at?” He peered over her shoulder, and she backed up a video feed from a camera that looked to have been placed on the back side of a building he didn’t recognize.
“I went to question the staff at the coffee shop where Vintorri’s apartment is,” Jenkins started, “the traffic cams in the front of the building really didn’t have much to give us a lead. However, when I spoke with the owner, he told me he had a camera installed in the back entrance due to an attempted robbery a few years ago. He mans them himself.” Jenkins pointed at the monitor. “Take a look.”
Foley watched as a blue sedan pulled up and turned their lights off. No one got out. “Now watch.” Northwood sped up the feed, stopping it just as a lone figure emerged from the passenger side, masked, and snuck just out of clear view of the camera. Moments later, the same figure returned, forcing a stumbling, half-dazed redhead past the frame and into the waiting car. They sped out onto the street and disappeared.
“Well, that looks like our girl …” Foley sighed, shaking his head. “Any luck running that tag?”
“I take a lot of pride in my skill with finding a runner,” Jenkins shrugged, “but I’m ashamed to say, they got us this time, Cap. I can’t make out a single number on that plate. I’ve checked the feeds from other traffic cameras, but they’re smart. Somehow, they avoided all my lucky ones.”
He watched Northwood’s shoulders sag. “I’m sorry, detective. I know this is difficult.”
“Foster’s still working on it,” Rhaena breathed, turning in her chair. “She went to check rental car spots around that area. Maybe it wasn’t even their car, and they thought they’d be safe. We’re gonna find her. I don’t care what it takes.”
“I know you will.” Foley clapped her shoulder and offered her a slight smile. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and when he pulled it out, his brows lowered. “Excuse me for just a minute.”
Both the detectives turned back to the monitor, and he made himself scarce down the hallway, lowering his voice.
“This is Captain Foley.”
“Captain, it’s Brent Stratford.”
“Mr. Stratford. I hope you’re not about to tell me you’re calling to offer me real estate.”
Stratford quieted for a moment. “Actually, now that you mention it … that could be a possibility. But no, sir. That’s not why I was calling.”
“Oh, did she pass? I’m sorry … that was terrible timing on my part. My apologies—”
“No, no … it’s fine. I—I’m calling to let you know … that I’m about to violate a restraining order. I was um … giving you an opportunity to arrest me.”
He wasn’t sure what to expect from this call … but it definitely hadn’t been that. Especially not from one of the top lawyers in the city. “Stratford, why would you tell me something like that? I don’t under—” It hit him then. He was asking him to follow. To catch a bad guy. He was giving up his father.
“If we’re on the same page … I’m heading to the mansion across town. If I’m right, then you can take us both in.”
“Stratford, if you’re right … you could be walking into something you might not walk out of. This is me asking you not to. Please don’t try to be a hero, kid.”
“I’m going. I just figured I’d let somebody know that I’m uh … breaking the law.”
The call ended before he could respond, and something in his gut told him that some bad shit was about to go down. He rushed back down the hallway to where Northwood and Jenkins were pulling on their jackets to leave.
“Stratford residence. We need to go. Now.”
They both looked at him as if he were mad. “Brent? Or Conrad?” Northwood asked, checking her weapon.
“The senator. Brent just rang me and told me he was about to violate his restraining order. He’s gonna do something stupid.”
Something like confirmation flashed across Northwood’s face, and she holstered her gun. “We’ll go, sir.”
“I’m going too. Been too long since I’ve had some action. Let’s move.”
“Should we call Foster?” Jenkins asked, zipping his jacket.
“Hell no. If she played nicer, he might have called her instead. Let’s go get this son-of-a-bitch.”
Nick Specter had done plenty of really stupid things—some he agreed to … some he hadn’t. Some of those things had paid off. Some of those things had landed him in water hot enough to boil him alive. It was at this particular moment, he found himself wishing that was actually happening. He’d rather have his skin melted off than to do this … really stupid thing.
“Damn …” Sarah whistled, circling him and looking over her handiwork. “You could almost pass for one of us, Specter.” Kane huffed through his nose as he sat in one of the chairs across from his desk in his office.
“Is this necessary?” Nick asked, fidgeting with an absolutely useless, non-functional buckle on the sleeve of an uncomfortable leather jacket. “How do you wear this shit every day? I feel like I’m being suffocated with plastic wrap.”
“If the wife promised to fuck the shit out of you after seeing you in it, I’m willing to bet you’d find it more comfortable.” Kane smirked. “Hell, you might even take up smoking … or get a tattoo.”
Sarah giggled, glancing at her mate while she applied smudges of eyeliner to Nick’s lids. “Hold still, boss man. I don’t care if you lose an eye, but I doubt it would feel very good.”
“Don’t you think this is a little overboard?” Nick asked, eyes watering. “Kane’s not wearing fucking makeup, St. James.”
“He doesn’t need it. There’s no making up somebody that already looks like that.”
Nick noticed the way the detective eyed every inch of her. “Someone should learn to heed her own advice,” Kane said, toying with the barely noticeable stubble on his chin.
“Shut it, detective …” She smiled, using her thumb to smear up the eyeliner. “You’re distracting me.”
They seemed … normal. More normal than Nick would have guessed, considering what he knew they both were. It was fascinating. As a man who, especially in his youth, had practically drowned himself in science, he couldn’t help but wonder about what had changed in the strange young woman that was giving him his first ever makeover. Nick sat still, focusing his attention on the swirls of color in her eyes while she worked.
“I wasn’t sure if it’d earn me a beating for asking, but … how are you? You look … very different.” He decided to tread carefully, and she paused to meet his curious stare.
“I feel fine.” Her expression grew firm, but that hidden softness she often seemed to try to conceal peeked through her features. “Very different … but fine. I know you’re not asking because you give a damn, so whatever it is you wanna know, I guess I should let you ask … you could die tonight.” He tried not to shudder as she winked at him, and he heard Kane chuckle from the chair behind her.
“Your heart started beating again. I’m assuming that means you don’t have to survive off blood?”
Sarah tucked the eyeliner into a small bag and pulled some faux ear cuffs out of it, turning his head. “Seems that way, but … for now, I find myself preferring it. What I’ve tried in the past two days has tasted like shit. But the blood?” She shrugged. “The blood hits home, right now.”
Nick cringed at the thought. “Have you … tested it? Yours, I mean. After your change?”
“When would I have had time to do that, Nick?”
He hesitated, but decided he would ask his next question anyway. “Would you allow me to?”
Sarah fit a cuff on the shell of his ear and dropped her hands into her lap. “What for?”
“You’re a biochemist. Aren’t you the least bit curious about it? What’s changed?”
She swiveled in the chair to face Kane, and he lifted a shoulder. “Only if you want to, love. Don’t feel obligated to satisfy his curiosity.”
“I’m—I dunno if I wanna know. But … I do feel like one of us should. I could have just as easily rendered myself useless to whoever wants my blood now.” She glanced between them both. “Gimme a vial.”
If she’d asked anyone else for a vial or a test tube in their office, it would have seemed absurd. But being the ever-prepared nerd that he was, Nick pulled his desk drawer open, and handed her a glass tube. “How long until we have to leave?” he asked.
“Club opens in an hour,” Kane offered.
They went to the same lab Sarah had spent her final moments a couple of nights before. Where she’d become something else. Nick hadn’t come in here since he’d sterilized the area. He tirelessly worked on their request in his personal lab upstairs for the past two days. It unsettled him a little when he’d gone for the cart to fetch a clean needle, only to turn around and catch St. James puncture her wrist with a fang and fill the vial herself. Kane watched her intently as she smeared a drop or two onto a slide and cleaned herself up. When she was done wiping the excess from her wrist, it looked like it had never happened. Nick’s spine tingled.
Everyone was silent as she adjusted the knobs on her microscope and peered into the eyepiece. No one was more quiet than Sarah. “Shit …” she whispered, turning the knob again. Nobody moved. Several moments of tense silence passed, and she finally looked up from her device. He was surprised when she looked at him first. “You have to see this.”
Nick approached the microscope, glancing at Kane as he stood perfectly still with his arms crossed in front of him. He took a look into the eyepiece. Her specimen was a livewire of activity. Every cell seemed to have its own pulsating shield of protection. Every jerking movement of them was as if they stood together like a waiting army, ready to jump into action at the slightest threat. “Incredible,” Nick breathed, adjusting the magnification. He opened the needle he’d gotten out, that was now unnecessary, and pricked the end of his finger, leaning back into the microscope as he added a single drop of his blood. The cells were ravenous. He wasn’t sick. Wasn’t taking any medication. The only thing he consumed in large amounts over the course of two days was caffeine. The little army devoured his cells, diminishing them into nearly nothing, until the tiniest flash of light burst in the middle and his own cells became what hers were. “My God …”
“What happened?” Sarah asked, stepping up to stand next to him. Nick squeezed another small bead of blood from his finger and moved aside to let her look.
“See for yourself,” he said, dropping the blood onto the slide. He waited a moment while she watched the reaction. She slowly leaned back and looked at Kane.
“My superheroes are …gods,” she muttered, twisting her fingers around each other. “It’s like they made it to the other side of the damn checkerboard and got kinged.”
That eerie quiet stretched between them all and Kane turned himself away. “You can’t go anywhere near her, Sarah.” Nick noticed the flash of disappointment on her face when Kane had said it. “If that’s true, and she gets one drop of your blood … there’s no telling what she’ll become. You need to—”
“I’m going,” Sarah interrupted, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around. “You’re not going in there by yourself. Wren could be in there, too.”
“We both know there’s a strong possibility that she’s not. I can handle Dahlia and the coven. I can’t risk you.”
“Well, I can’t just sit here while everybody risks their lives. Don’t ask me to do that. You swore you wouldn’t leave me, Athan. You swore.”
Kane gripped her shoulders and stepped closer. “Sarah … fuck …”
“We planned this,” Sarah said through clenched teeth. “She wants us both. We go together, or the coven gets nothing. Either I go … or I died for nothing. We’re not gonna live the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, Athan. I’m killing this bitch. It ends tonight.” Sarah jerked out of Kane’s hold, and he trembled with anger. Anger and something like—fear? Nick pretended not to notice and stared at the floor while Sarah disposed of the specimen and cleaned up. “Get your shit. Let’s go.”
There was no arguing with her. It seemed like even someone as hard as Kane knew that. The ride to the creepy-ass club was silent, and she stared out the window for most of it. They pulled into a dark parking lot a couple of streets down. Streetlamps flickered, and most all the others were burned out. This was the side of Boston that Nick had been fortunate enough to never see. The cooler with all the bags of blood may as well have been a chest of gold on the floorboard behind Kane’s seat. When he turned toward him, Nick sighed nervously, flexing his hands in anticipation.
“You remember what I told you Decclan looks like? Where to find him?” Kane asked, one hand gripping the steering wheel while he looked Nick over.
“Yeah … by the door in the back. Big guy … slight Irish accent?”
“If you can’t find him, who are you supposed to look for?”
“Bartender. Tony … tall, skinny … ginger hair.”
Kane and Sarah finally looked at each other and nodded. “Alright. We’ll be waiting in the alley around the side of the building. You remember what I told you to do if you see Dahlia Van Hausen?”
Nick blew out a frustrated breath. “Abort.”
“Call me if anything happens. Don’t linger. Don’t do anything to give yourself away. You look the part, just remember that. Stratford stuck out like a stick in the mud. Blend in. Buy a drink. Act like you’re comfortable, even if you’re not. If you start letting your pussy show … they’ll smell it on you.”
“I’ve got it.” Nick felt the fluttering of his stomach turn to lead as Sarah let him out of the car. The farther away he got from the safety of that car, the more nervous he felt. He turned back for just a second, catching Kane’s glare, and straightened his spine, squaring his shoulders as he trudged forward. He could do it. St. James had endured much worse. He wouldn’t fuck this up. Moments later, he stepped through the front door and entered the Black Bird Tavern.
Tony opened two bottles of beer for the couple that waited across from him, nodding when they thanked him, and turning towards the other girl waiting close by.
“What can I get you, dear?” he asked, leaning in to hear her as the club became busier by the minute.
“Vodka and tonic, slice of lime!” she called over the music. Tony quickly prepared it, and slid it over to her, taking her payment and smiling as she stuffed a bill into the tip jar.
“Thanks, doll …” he said, swiping an empty glass from the bar, and taking it to the beverage station. An unfamiliar face slid onto a stool near the end of the bar as Tony washed the glasses but didn’t try to get his attention. Instead, he seemed to search the room for someone.
Tony watched for a moment, wiping down the glass, and then the bar. When the man didn’t turn back towards him, he made his way over. “Can I get you anything, mate?”
The man startled and faced him. “Ah … yeah, lemme get whatever you have on draft.” When he turned his head back towards the floor, Tony noticed the earrings lining the edge of his ear. They were fake. He tilted the frosty mug forward and filled it, keeping a close eye on the stranger.
