Page 63 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

“Don’t tell me you’re deciding you wanna be an Indian giver. Or you’re pulling a Leigh Erickson on me, right now. Her weed ain’t that strong,” Wren snorted, tossing her keys onto the kitchen table.

“I’m sorry, Wren,” Sarah uttered, hanging her head. “I didn’t mean to lose my shit like that. You were brilliant. Thank you both for acting so fast. I’m just—” she couldn’t stop the soul-crushing sob that fought its way out of her throat. “I’ve gotta find him.”

Wren got to her before she could collapse into a puddle of tears and wound around her tightly.

“We’ll find him, Sarah.” Her hands were uncharacteristically gentle as they forced her face up.

“Man up, punk. We’ve got a web to start.

I need you to get your shit together, and tear a page out of Athan’s book, while I desperately search for my inner Northwood, and figure out what the hell to do. ”

“Is she still in a coma?” Sarah asked, terrified of the answer.

“Yeah. Foley got a board, and we’ve got boxes full of shit to go through. Brandon wants us to switch up. We’re gonna go through the stuff you and Athan have, and you’re gonna go through Rhaena and Foley’s case.”

Sarah glanced at Brent, who dried his hands, and then looked back at Wren with pinched brows. “Why?”

“Because blood is, and always has been your forte.”

“I must have truly failed you, my son.”

Her back was turned, but he could see her shoulders bouncing as she added wood to the stove, and stoked the fire, a soft chuckle leaving her as he shoveled stew and potatoes into his mouth.

“I’m sure I’ve no idea what you mean,” he smiled, wincing at the heat of the food he made no attempt to cool down. She turned; her pale face flawless without the ungodly amount of counterpaints she caked on every night.

“You eat like a swine, Nathaniel Kane.” Her dainty nose crinkled as she giggled, placing her hands on her hips as she studied him.

“Did I not raise you well enough that you wouldn’t deign to look and smell like one as well?

” He opened his mouth, letting her see his poorly chewed wad, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes, all but running from him as he leapt from the table to rub some stink on her.

“Get back, boy! Before I give you well-deserved lashes! You’re going to spoil my wages!

” She cackled, swatting at him as he nuzzled her neck and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

His smile faded as he pulled back, taking her small hands in his and staring at her with an expression she always seemed to shrivel under. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Mother. James has been giving me longer shifts since he lost Benjamin to the plague.”

Her eyes softened, and a bleak smile tightened her mouth as she ran a knuckle down his soiled cheek. “Aye, but the plague has claimed more than just Benjamin. Madame Olivia expects an influx of eager patrons tonight. One is a wealthy bachelor. Asked for me by name.”

“A name that only exists in that pleasure house,” he argued, dropping her hands. She reached for him, grabbing his wrist as he turned away.

“Please,” she begged. “Please don’t be angry. Every copper I save to get us out of here is worth it. One day, my darling…one day we’ll want for nothing.”

“A real man shouldn’t pay for the most intimate parts of you.”

She palmed his face, her eyes lining with tears as she smiled. “These men aren’t half the man you’ve grown to be, love. But I do not regret it. I cannot. You were the greatest gift of whatever sacrifice I’ve made. I would do it all again.”

It tore him apart every time she left this run-down shack to lie with ambitious men who had no true regard for the precious soul that embodied her. The simple truth that none of them would ever have the pleasure of knowing how amazing she really was…it slaughtered him.

“Please don’t go tonight. I’m staying late at the distillery for the next three days.

I’ll see so little of you,” he pleaded. It seemed as if she considered it, but as he returned to the house after bathing, she’d readied herself in her scandalous gown and painted her face to look like the woman he never recognized as his mother.

“Forgive me, darling.”

It would be a moment he would regret for the rest of his life. His decision to remain silent as she left to go meet her clients for the evening. He was too angry to even tell her goodbye. It was the last time he’d ever see her alive.

“No!” Athan screamed, jolting awake, and smashing his head against—against… “Mother?” he called out, an agonizing pain shooting down his neck…his shoulder. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Athan reached around the confines of wherever he was, finding very little space, and just as little air. It only took a split-second to realize…

Fuck…fuck…

He wasn’t back in that house. She was still gone. This wasn’t a second chance at saving her life. This was modern day hell on Earth. He could faintly hear the sound of traffic. His head felt as if it were trapped in a thick, damp fog.

What happened?

Sarah…he had fought with Sarah. She told him she wasn’t coming home. Nell had given him an envelope. He had gone to the apartment and—

“Sorry, handsome. This might hurt.”

That’s all he could remember as the world went dark. As dark as where he was now. That voice. It was…

“Sykes,” he whispered, realizing exactly what sort of situation he’d found himself in as panic began to take over, and his breathing kicked up. His throat burned. A familiar burn that seeped through his veins and demanded to be satisfied. But why? Sarah’s attack had been mere months ago.

She’d killed him.

“She killed…” he huffed, erratically. “Fucking bitch! ” He struggled against whatever held him prisoner, but to no avail. He was weak. His immortal body was compensating for the energy it had taken to bring him back. And now it was starving for what it’d lost.

“Hello!”

His fists rammed against the coffin; limbs spongy…air depleting. How long had he been buried? He started to sweat, and his hunger set in. It was in that moment he realized two things:

One…he’d lose his battle with the monster inside in a short time.

Two…his oxygen would run out…and he’d die again.

Neither of those would help him break out. And if he did, someone innocent would likely die. Someone innocent would become prey to that monster. That part of him that he couldn’t control. How many times could a vampire die before the body began to prepare for what most called ‘the idle sleep’?

Tony had spoken about it before. How some elders chose to sleep off a few centuries and wake to a different age.

Dahlia forbade it. There would be no recompense of the services the coven provided for her.

No dreamless vacation from the life she forced them to live.

Waking someone in idle sleep required tremendous amounts of fresh blood.

Centuries ago, some covens hosted grand celebrations to awaken members, offering high numbers of human hosts for the cause.

He wanted to vomit. If he couldn’t claw his way out of here, he may never recover from what could come after.

Never forgive himself for ending up in this nightmare. His breaths became short…choppy…

Useless.

He frantically beat against the coffin in rage.

“Hellooooooo!”