Page 86 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

REYNOLDS

Every step he took felt strange and heavy as the three of them silently walked down ghostly-bare streets towards Edgar Allan Poe’s house.

The real one. The place where, somehow, Athan knew Sarah was right about the legend of a man…

waiting for them. Athan wasn’t sure if it was his lack of use in his legs for the amount of time he’d been stuffed into that coffin, or the fact that a man they’d always admired so much—a man whose words shaped so many parts of their lives—made his muscles stiff, and reluctant.

This would end with someone’s blood. Sarah seemed driven to write him an ending worthy of one of his tall tales.

His dark existence. It didn’t seem to matter that he was her father…

in fact…if he was being completely honest…

he didn’t think either of them had really let that detail sink in yet.

He gripped her hand and looked over at her face as they continued to walk.

Sarah stared forward. Her expression was blank, and lifeless.

How much could one woman endure? How much death makes a person hollow, and numb?

The old townhouse came into view, and a chill went down his spine.

They didn’t slow. One foot in front of the other.

Poe rode on Sarah’s shoulder like a soldier into battle.

No wonder he fell just as hard for her. From the very beginning, that bird knew who she was.

Knew he’d found the same counterpart as Athan had. Everything just seemed so… poetic .

No matter what happens in there…just remind yourself you’re not his…you’re mine. You’ve always been mine, Sarah St. James.

Sarah glanced over and smiled softly. The first sign of life in those hazel eyes that he’d seen since they left the little church down the street.

Nobody will ever tear us apart again. I think…I think it’s time for some changes. Never again.

He smiled back at her as they crept closer to the house.

Nevermore.

Sarah’s smile grew, and she nodded.

Nevermore. Yes.

“Kane…” Tony whispered, as they approached the steps to the front. He nodded towards the door, and they realized it was cracked open. An invitation. Possibly a death sentence. Sarah started up the stairs, and Athan jerked her back by the hand.

“Wait,” he said, meeting her hard stare. “When we went after Dahlia…we had a plan. A plan I didn’t like at all. I wasn’t able to walk through that door with you. We’re not doing that this time.” She stilled, and her gaze tore him open. “Together.”

Sarah nodded, and Tony stepped in close behind them as Athan joined her on the top step.

They pushed the door open, finding the house dark and empty.

It was obvious the place had been made into a high-traffic exhibit.

The first room was turned into a gift shop.

T-shirts were hanging with Poe’s face on them.

Memorabilia lined shelves, and there was a register on the small counter in the corner.

There wasn’t a sound in the place aside from Poe’s sputtering and uncomfortable noises at Sarah’s shoulder.

She reached up and brushed a knuckle down his breast, but it did little to calm him.

There was another room down the short hallway.

It looked like it used to be a dining room, or maybe a kitchen.

Odds and ends were scattered around, waiting to be photographed, and awed over.

“I’m tired of looking at this shit. He’s here somewhere.

I can feel him. Don’t ask me how, but I do.

” Sarah kept her voice low, and he could hear the irritation in her voice.

No one could blame her, and he certainly wouldn’t, but it was the sound of someone who was so fed up with lies and secrets that she’s given up completely.

Athan starved for revenge…but it wasn’t his to take.

To say that everything she’d been through was utterly unfair was a slap in her face at this point.

His mate needed the same peace he longed to get after Dahlia’s heavy fall.

Tony poked around, shining the flashlight from his phone on miscellaneous things, but not breathing a word.

There wasn’t much to say. They all rounded the corner, and a narrow flight of stairs winded up the wall.

Poe trilled, and danced on Sarah’s shoulder again, growing increasingly agitated.

The air felt colder as they got to the landing at the top of the stairs, and Sarah dug out Athan’s phone to shine a light of her own in the room they came to first. A bedroom.

There were quotes on the walls, some by Poe, himself…

others by other famous authors, inspired by his works.

On the other wall was a family tree. The next, a timeline of Poe’s life. Tony went straight for it.

We’re being watched…

Sarah shone the light towards him as his voice flitted through the bond, whispering like anyone other than the two of them could hear it. He jerked his head to the door, and a shadow cast by moonlight draped over the wooden floor of the adjacent bedroom…a shadow with the most familiar likeness.

“Wait,” Tony breathed, squinting at the family tree. He drew his brows and looked over at them. “He married his cousin? That was the long story?”

Sarah chuckled through her nose. “Fun trip, yeah?”

“That’s weird even for me,” he sighed, shaking his head. Athan couldn’t help but smirk.

The light mood quickly disappeared as Poe leapt from her shoulder, and the echo of wing beats bounced off the walls. He disappeared into the darkness, and straight into the bedroom, where the shadow on the floor was joined by his raven.

“Is it you?” Sarah called, gripping Athan’s hand. A bitter chill raked down his spine, and she stiffened next to him. Tony went still as death behind them. “You went through a lot of trouble to get us here. You coulda saved me some by at least saying hello to your daughter… Edgar .”

The shadow shifted, and a voice like death itself spoke out into the dark.

“Man’s real life is happy…chiefly because he is ever expecting that it soon will be so.”

Sarah’s grip tightened. Athan didn’t have words…but she seemed to have plenty. “Only an asshole would quote himself, after an eternity of fame. Especially in the face of his only blood. You expect me to believe you’re happy?”

The poet’s chuckle was as creepy as his work. “But I am. Please,” he started. “Come here. Let me see you.”

This was the moment. A moment for something extraordinary.

A moment for something dreadful. A moment that would change everything they knew about the world…

about themselves. It would never be the same after tonight.

He could hear Sarah’s heartbeat. Her scent changed.

Her blood raged. His joined it, ready to shed for her if necessary.

One step…two…three. They entered the room, and Athan’s eyes raised to the window, where tendrils of moonlight made a silhouette of the man he’d once wished he could be.

“You have no reason to be happy. I’m going to kill you tonight,” Sarah promised.

“Well…” he breathed. “Thank Heaven. The crisis…the danger is passed. The lingering illness, is over at last…”

“And the fever called living is conquered at last…” Athan finished.

Silence.

“Did you believe that I orchestrated all of this to live? You’re of a mind filled with the inner workings of what most believed to be insanity. But you’re still of that mind, Lenore. My mind. My blood . You’re far more intelligent than that.”

“I’m not your Lenore,” Sarah bit through her clenched teeth. “I’m not your anything . You want your death? I’ll gladly give it to you. But not until you answer every question I have.”

She didn’t warn anyone before her free hand slapped the wall to her left, and the light switch flipped on…

And there stood a legend. An impossibility.

There stood Edgar Allan fucking Poe.

The only thing different about the man that stood before her, than the man in every portrait in this house—every man carved out of plaster or stone—was the modern cut of his hair…

and the clothes he wore. The style was similar.

A vest. A white shirt. A black peacoat, and slacks.

He even sported a couple of tattoos. It surprised her a little to see them—especially the one on his wrist. One that looked identical to hers.

Identical to Athan’s replica that he’d added to his chest. How much did he know about her?

Did he get it to honor her? Or did she get the idea from a whisper in a dream that maybe wasn’t even a dream.

How long had he been a shadow in the corner of her life?

How long had he watched her? Followed her? Influenced her every move?

Their eyes were locked together…so incredibly strong that she could feel the death rippling from him in waves. His mouth curved slightly beneath that short mustache, and he slowly nodded his approval.

“You look so much like your mother,” he said softly.

He meant it as a compliment, Sarah knew. But it filled her with bitterness.

“Yeah? And where were you?” Athan’s hand held steady, and she knew he wouldn’t let her go.

Especially not when he was frozen in shock, probably starstruck, and still trying to figure out if any of them would make it out of here alive.

“It’s always been the two of us. She never talked about you.

She never made a big deal about whatever you put her through.

How the hell did my mother end up with Edgar Allan Poe? ”

Tony shifted behind her, and Edgar’s dark eyes shifted with him. They widened a bit, and then narrowed…he was piecing it all together.

“You…” he started, cocking his head. “I recognize you.”

Tony swallowed and managed a shaky nod. He seemed…terrified. “You should. We’ve met.”

The bird on his shoulder opted for a nearby bust—not of Pallas, but of Poe, himself. He inched a step forward, eyes still on Tony, and drinking in every feature. “You saved my life.”