Page 78 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

History would be forgotten if not for the pieces of life in this shop.

I needed someone who truly appreciates the value of what’s in all these trinkets…

not just the value of the dollar they could sell for.

Athan had always been my choice, for obvious reasons.

But that was before you sat down with a brush and wanted to learn how to do what I do, Wren.

That was before you started really becoming passionate about something after that piece of your soul was lost, and you started coming into that door with tea, and croissants, ready to learn something new.

That was before I realized that you didn’t just care about what we were doing in here…

you cared about a dried-up old lady with way too much stuff.

And I realized, you’d care for this place and everything in it just as much when I’m gone.

Wren, chase that fire. Feed it. Let it grow wild and consume everything around you.

Live a full life. Let yourself love. Let yourself enjoy it.

Write your own page in the history books and take this opportunity to heal the broken parts.

They’re not really broken. Only changed.

History might forget my name, and everything I loved about the unusual circumstances in life…

the unusual people that you meet in it. But it’ll remember yours.

It’ll remember yours, and Athan’s and the adventures that you all experience together. I’ll be watching and cheering you on.

Thank you for giving this old bat some peace in her life.

Live well, Wren.

~Nell

A tear splattered on the paper, smudging the ink on the page, and Wren wiped her eyes with her sleeve, sniffling into it.

She folded the letter, tucking it back into the envelope, and sitting it up against her easel in the living room.

Denver mewed from the couch, watching her and flicking his tail back and forth as she undressed the entire way to the bathroom.

Brent was rinsing the shampoo from his hair, and flinched when she pressed herself against his back, squeezing both arms around him.

“I’ll go with you,” she croaked, trying not to continue crying. He turned around in her arms, winding his around her as water ran from his chin. “I’ll go wherever you go. There’s nothing left for us misfits here.”

Brent smiled, and if it weren’t for the water in his eyes, she could swear he was tearing up. “Misfits…fitting a piece as crooked as we are always required way too much fucking energy anyway.”

“I really hope you’re not implying that you’re gonna use that relaxation of energy to grow a relationship gut. I’ll take all your money and fucking dip, dude.”

Brent snorted, and pressed his mouth against hers, and suddenly…Wren forgot why romance smelled like shit.

The only thing available to rent had been expensive on such short notice.

All the information she had to give would make her as obvious as a flashing beacon on top of the car, but…

three hours. Three hours was all that was left between her and Athan’s freedom.

The thought of having him back…telling him how sorry she was for the way they’d left things that night.

Telling him how much she loved him…it outweighed whatever possible state he’d be in when she tore him out of that coffin.

Sarah decided she’d do practically anything to get the Athan back that she knew, although, once he learned what she’d learned… neither of them would ever be the same.

And then there was John—Poe…Edgar Allan fucking Poe.

What the hell was this life? Who would ever believe this was reality?

It started to make a little sense now, why Poe had hidden his identity from her all these years.

Not only was it absolutely insane…but the world believed this master poet—this dark genius—to be dead.

His words were forever cherished in that death, because the world never accepted him when he’d lived.

No matter how much she might have admired him as one of the most brilliant writers in the world, she didn’t think she could ever forgive him for what he’d done.

And there were still pieces that just didn’t fit.

Questions that needed answers. Sarah looked over at Tony, who was cracking a window and lighting a cigarette.

“You wanna drive?” she smirked. He jerked his face toward her.

“Me? Oh, no. No, no…I’ve—I’ve never driven a car before.”

Sarah dropped her mouth open in a smile. “Never?”

Tony shook his head and shrugged a shoulder. “There was never any need for me to learn. That bar top was my life. My gift. My prison. What need did I have for a car? I always thought my eternity would be spent like that. There was never any way to escape that coven…not until you. Until Kane.”

It made her chest ache. She reflected back to the night she met Tony. The night she’d first seen Athan in that bar. The night that her world turned on its side and shook her out of whatever reality she’d believed. But it also got her thinking of something else.

“Tony…do you really think Poe’s last words were about Decclan?”

His expression told her as much. Like he’d been betrayed. Like the thought of it being the truth made a world of sense, but—like Sarah, he refused to believe it. Two people with impossible truths. Heavy truths that neither wanted to admit. He took a double drag and slowly blew his smoke.

“I hope I’m wrong. But I don’t think I am.”

Sarah gripped the steering wheel and reached for the cigarette.

He passed it over without question, a knowing smirk on his face.

As soon as she inhaled, she nearly choked, her eyes watering.

“Oh, my God! What the hell is that?!” Tony cackled from the passenger seat and tapped the ashes out the window.

“It’s a home-rolled cigarette. There’s no filter,” he chuckled. “Got the tobacco from an old friend in Edinburgh. It’s fine stuff.”

“Jesus, Tony. You better be counting your blessings that vampires can’t die of lung cancer. Fuck.”

Their laughter died out, and he stared at the road ahead, swallowing before he spoke again. “Do you remember when we joined you at the pub? When I told you the story of the night, I met John Allan?”

Sarah nodded softly, glancing at him. “Yeah, I nearly cried when I saw you guys eat.”

“Decc was so… quiet about the whole thing. When we asked him how he never heard anything about John Allan from Dahlia…he—I think he lied.”

“Now that you mention it…I did notice that. I thought it was just me. I didn’t know Decclan. But it still struck me as odd.”

Tony shook his head. “It makes so much sense now. He was as hard as stone at her execution. I thought it was because he was having a hard time letting her go. But when she said something to you about John…whatever secrets Decc was keeping…they were dying with her. Maybe he thought he was safe.”

Sarah looked over, reading his face. “You think John Allan is after him? After the coven?”

“I dunno. That would depend on whatever relationship he had with John, I guess.”

Ryan. She had told her that she couldn’t speak for John’s decisions regarding the Black Bird coven and their freedom. Maybe whatever it was—was unforgivable. “I should have asked her,” Sarah breathed, slapping her palm against the steering wheel.

“Asked who, what?”

“Sykes. Whatever happened between Decclan and John…I bet she would have known.”

Tony shifted in his seat. “Do you think she’ll be in Baltimore when we get there?”

“I’m not sure. But I feel like if she’s on the run, it’s not just because she thinks I’m after her. Or my friends. I think she’s trying to get away from him .”

“Can’t we call the number back? Get one of them on the phone?”

Sarah shook her head again. “Every time I try redialing these numbers, they’re trashed.

I think they use burners and break them when they’re done.

They’ve spent a really long time covering their asses.

They like to stretch the mystery out as long as it’ll go.

Keep you guessing. Keep you on the fucking line.

That leaves them the control, you know?”

Tony sighed, dragging one last time on his smoke before tossing it out the window. “Yeah…that part.”

Sarah looked him over, and he met eyes with her.

“I’m not gonna let this coven get caught up again, Tony.

Father or not…he’s going down. Poe spent his mortal life obsessed with death.

He just spun his own fucking wheel of misfortune.

This is my life. My story. My future. It’s just as important as yours.

Nobody should hold the keys to anyone’s freedom. ”

He stared at her for a long moment, and then softly smiled. “Athan is a lucky man. Truly.”

Sarah scoffed, and looked up at a huge green sign, taking the next exit. “Maybe I’m the one that’s lucky.” She saw light shine on a pair of beating wings as Poe flew over the SUV and ahead of her. “He’s given me an extraordinary life.”

“What if he’s—hungry?” Tony asked, wringing his fingers in his lap.

“I don’t have any doubt about that. We don’t have much longer now. It’ll be really late. I’m hoping any unsuspecting humans will be well on their way to dreaming. It’s a Wednesday night. What are the odds that anybody will be hanging out at a grave?”

“Yeah, but…we don’t have any blood.”

Sarah smirked, recalling the night she wore Athan’s black hoodie, and how it pained him to see her in it. The night she forgave him for throwing a grenade in her life and reconstructing it into something amazing.

“Oh, we do. He’s just gonna have to be okay with it.”

“So…your mother is out there? And Sykes is related to you. Damn, Rhaena. This is—insanity. And you’re thinking she’ll come back for Leigh?” Wren asked, gnawing the end of a red licorice rope.