nevermore

by Nell Stark

  “I’m sorry,” I said, wishing that I had more to offer than the platitude. “When did you start showing symptoms?”

  Shade closed her eyes as she tried to remember. “I got the nosebleed three, maybe four days after she did. But I haven’t really felt sick until yesterday.” She paused to wipe her eyes, and I wondered whether grief or illness was responsible for the new moisture. “After she…after she died, I was afraid that I would be rounded up as a part of some kind of investigation. I heard what happened to that shifter in Luna—that no one has heard from him since.” Another fit of coughing took her then, and she grimaced when she finally caught her breath. A light wheeze persisted in her lungs.

  “Do you have any idea how she might have gotten sick?” I asked.

  Shade looked uncomfortable. Her hands knotted together in her lap, and she glanced toward the kitchen before resolutely meeting my eyes again. “I don’t know for sure. But I suspect the drugs.”

  “The drugs.” I kept my voice even, not wanting her to think that I was being judgmental. Because I wasn’t. I had been with Alexa for almost every minute of her early days as a shifter, and had seen firsthand how the panther had ravaged her psyche.

  “Most recently, we’ve been taking an antipsychotic that’s also a powerful sedative. It helps with the days just before the moon.”

  “How do you get it?”

  “I’m not going to tell you that.” Her voice was calm, but I heard the steel in it. Regardless, I was about to protest when she stood. “But you can have the rest if you want to…test it, or something.”

  “Thank you,” I said as she went into the kitchen. When she returned with a film container, I cracked the top to find it two-thirds full of round, dusky pink pills. I stared at them for several seconds, wishing that I had the power to see deep inside them.

  Fortunately, I did, in a manner of speaking. Thanks to my internship at NYU’s hospital. “Would you mind if I came back tomorrow?” I asked Shade as I pocketed the container. “To get a blood sample from you? It would be useful to compare with the—”

  “Take it now.”

  “But I don’t have the proper equipment.”

  “I have everything you’ll need. In here.” And she led me into the bedroom.

  The bed frame was simple but made of thick, solid-looking wood. As Shade pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed, I wondered how much of the BDSM dynamic of the Circuit had extended to her relationship with Gwendolyn. Had Gwendolyn practiced her resistance to the whip here, bound to the bed under Shade’s teasing, torturous hand? Or had the tables been turned? Did Shade shift into a submissive behind closed doors, submitting to Gwendolyn’s highly honed control?

  I closed my eyes as a lightning flash of arousal streaked down my spine. Oh, God, I didn’t want to feel this. I didn’t want the vision of Shade’s supple, naked body stretched out like an offering upon the twisted sheets, her heels digging into the mattress as Gwendolyn drove her higher and higher with tongue and teeth and fingers…

  When Shade laid a hand on my arm, I gasped and pulled away.

  “Are you all right?” Shade was looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She was too thin. I could see the pulse in her neck. The pulse. So much blood, just beneath the surface, hot and rich and—

  “Fine,” I said hoarsely. “I’m fine.”

  She held out her hands, displaying a tourniquet and syringe. I suspected she used them to inject other kinds of drugs. “These need to be sterilized first.”

  “After you,” I said, following her into the kitchen. I leaned against the door frame as she set a small pot on the stove to boil, careful to keep my distance. When everything was ready, she sat at her small table and offered up her arm.

  I breathed through my mouth as I pierced her vein with the hypodermic, not trusting myself to keep it together in the split second when the aroma of her blood would infuse the air. Focusing hard on my technique, I offered up a silent apology for my own weakness.

  I’m sorry, Alexa. Please, come home. I need you. Please.

  Chapter Eight

  I left Shade’s apartment with the pills in my left pocket and a vial of her blood in my right. I lacked the expertise to run the necessary tests on either sample by myself, but my friend Sean at Tisch Hospital would know exactly what to do. If I concocted a story about a delinquent cousin who was into drugs, he’d help me out without asking many questions. Mind racing, I turned toward the nearest subway station…and stopped in my tracks when I heard a soft rustling noise in the nearby alley.

  I rose to the balls of my feet, heart thundering against my ribs, and took three steps. As I flattened myself against the rough brick of Shade’s building, I drew my gun. The stubbled grip felt comforting in my palm. One deep breath and then another. There was no sound from the alley now, but I knew what I had heard. Someone was down there, and I wasn’t going to let them get the jump on me. Not this time.

  I heard again the crunch of the gravel beneath my shoes as I took off in a sprint, felt again the spear of agony that lanced up my thigh as the knife landed in my calf. Saw again the slithering tattoo across his clenched fist…

  No. Swallowing hard, I wrenched myself back to the present. I was not back there. I was right here, and I was armed, and I was never, ever going to be a victim again. I thumbed off the safety, raised my gun, stepped around the corner, and pointed it with a steady hand.

  Squarely at the chest of Olivia Wentworth Lloyd.

  My gaze dropped from her face to the gleaming barrel of the pistol she held. Wearing a navy blouse and dark jeans, she blended well into the shadows.

  “Valentine?” Her voice was shrill, and I felt a rush of confidence in the knowledge that she was nervous. I was willing to bet she’d never fired her gun outside of a range.

  “Olivia. What the hell is going on?”

  “Lower your weapon,” she said.

  “Let’s both do it. At the same time.” Under normal circumstances, I would have trusted her. But meeting her here was too much of a coincidence for me to take her at her word.

  “Are you kidding me?” I watched Olivia’s grasp tighten. “I’m an assistant district attorney, Valentine. Drop your fucking gun.”

  I hesitated before I obliged, just to prove that I wasn’t going to let her order me around. I crouched to deposit the gun on the ground, but kept my eyes focused on her trigger finger. If she so much as twitched, I would use every one of my reflexes, weakened though they were, in my own defense.

  “Tell me,” I said, drawing myself back up to my full height. “If I called the DA’s office, would they be surprised to hear you’re prowling the streets of the South Bronx in the middle of the night?” When her jaw tightened, I laughed. “This isn’t lawyer work, Olivia, so cut the crap. And stop pointing your goddamn pistol at my head.”

  Olivia lowered her weapon slowly. “Tell me you have a permit for that gun, Val.”

  “I have a permit for this gun, Olivia,” I said, unable to keep myself from getting snarky. “I’ve been carrying it—legally—since shortly after I was attacked.”

  She nodded, and I hoped I’d won some sympathy points. “What are you doing out here?” she asked as she holstered her pistol. Knowing it would freak her out if I reclaimed my own weapon, I left it lying at my feet and leaned against the wall of the alley.

  “I came to visit a friend,” I said, trying to stay as close to the truth as I could. “She’s sick.”

  “Does this friend have a name?”

  I thought fast, not wanting to give up Shade’s name. “Gwen.” Before Olivia could ask another question, I went on the offensive. “Why the interrogation? What are you doing out here?”

  “Investigating.”

  “Investigating? You’re a detective now, too?”

  I watched her body language closely. She didn’t betray much—she had plenty of experience at maintaining an impassive façade in court, after all—but the corners of her mouth tightened a little. �
��The case I’m working has our detectives swamped. I thought I’d help out.”

  I didn’t buy that answer for a second. “By snooping around up here with no backup?”

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “You’re the one who barged into a dark alley like some kind of vigilante.”

  “I’m the vigilante? You don’t have a badge either.” I frowned. “Is this still about what happened to us? Are you going after him solo?”

  “What? No. That trail has gone cold.”

  “So then what’s this all about? Why the cloak and dagger?”

  Olivia took a few steps closer and lowered her voice. “I think I’m on to something. And it’s really big.”

  Deep in my brain, the alarm bells grew louder. Something really big. What if Olivia wasn’t being tipped off about Sebastian’s questionable business practices or the Consortium’s shady legal dealings, but about the very existence of Weres and vampires?

  “What kind of ‘something’?” I asked, trying to sound skeptical.

  Olivia shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure. But it seems like some kind of very large, and very secret, crime syndicate.”

  “Like the mafia?”

  At that, Olivia’s stubbornness kicked in. “That’s all I’m going to say, Val, okay? This is part of an ongoing investigation.”

  “Sure, okay,” I said, trying to placate her. My internal alarm had quieted; while Olivia appeared to be aware that the Consortium constituted some kind of corporate entity, she hadn’t yet put all the pieces together. The secret was still safe. For now.

  “Do you know anything about this?” Olivia abruptly switched back to her interrogator mode. Maybe she was trying to throw me off guard.

  I laughed. “You think I have ties to some crime syndicate?” But when her expression grew stony, I held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Look, you’re aware that I’m friends with Sebastian. But as far as I know, he’s just another high roller with a business that caters to the elite. He’s a playboy and a hedonist, but not a criminal mastermind.”

  I took a gamble then, and pointed to the building I’d just left. “Gwen, who lives here, is one of the techs in my lab. She’s got a nasty flu and doesn’t have anyone to take care of her, so I brought over some soup.” Crossing my arms, I tried to look indignant. It was an easy expression to muster in Olivia’s presence. “Happy?”

  Looking slightly deflated, Olivia rubbed at her eyes in an uncharacteristic show of fatigue. “Yes.” Her smile was rueful. “Sorry, Val. I’m letting this one get to me.”

  “Well, hang in there. And be careful.” When she nodded, I tried out a tired grin. “So, Counselor, are you going to charge me with something? Or can I head back downtown?”

  At my banter, Olivia squared her shoulders and even managed to roll her eyes at me. “Of course. Go home. What a bizarre coincidence, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I said, willing to bet that deep down, neither of us actually believed that. Shade suspected her drugs of infecting Weres with whatever it was that had killed Gwendolyn and Martine. Olivia was being fed information by some elusive source that kept leading her back to Weres and vampires. And Alexa was missing in action.

  No, I thought fiercely as pain seared behind my eyes at the thought. Alexa was fine. She hadn’t been near whatever danger had infiltrated New York. She was going to come home tomorrow, and when I had to convince her to go away again for a while, she wouldn’t be pleased but she would understand.

  “See you around, Val,” Olivia said, jolting me from my descent into panic.

  “Yeah,” I replied, willing the words not to tremble. “Take care.”

  I waited until she was out of sight to pick up my gun. As I stood, I patted my pockets, just to reassure myself that both the pills and Shade’s blood were still safely where they belonged. I would go home and catch a few hours of sleep before heading to work early in the hopes of catching Sean before our boss arrived.

  And later, finally, I would leave work to catch the train that would take me out to JFK in time to meet Alexa’s flight. Tomorrow, I would hold her. Tomorrow, I would kiss her. Tomorrow, I would make love to her and feel her fragrant blood filling me up, making me strong once again.

  Tomorrow. I had to believe it.

  *

  A pounding at my door shattered the fitful doze I’d lapsed into after returning home. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and blinked hard in the dim light of the pre-dawn. Again, my door rattled, and this time Karma’s voice accompanied the insistent knocking.

  “Val! It’s me.”

  I forgot about my exhaustion. Karma wouldn’t have shown up like this if she didn’t have some kind of news. I threw on a T-shirt and shorts, raced to the door, and threw back the deadbolt.

  “What’s going on?”

  Karma was dressed as immaculately as always, but her eyes were wild as she stepped inside my apartment. “It’s Telassar,” she said with no preamble. “The city has fallen.”

  “Fallen?” My heart leapt into overdrive, and I clutched at a nearby bookshelf as the world seemed to tilt. “What—what does that mean?”

  Karma’s hand closed around my forearm. Her touch was warm, and my throat began to burn at the sensation of her pulse fluttering lightly against my skin. “The city has been besieged for a week. Yesterday, the invading force broke through Constantine’s defenses. A few escaped, one a contact of Malcolm’s.”

  “Alexa?” My voice sounded strangled to my own ears. With my free hand, I pressed hard against my chest, over my galloping heart.

  Karma shook her head. “Malcolm’s source said that she left the city with Constantine two days ago.” When she hesitated, I shook off her hand.

  “What? What, aren’t you telling me, Karma?” My breaths were coming in quick gasps, and I was starting to feel dizzy. Hyperventilating. I couldn’t stop.

  “My source claims that Brenner was after Constantine and Alexa specifically.”

  My entire body jerked at the name. “Balthasar Brenner?”

  Surprise flashed across Karma’s delicate features. “Yes, how do you—”

  “A dream.” I stumbled to the futon and sat, holding my head in my hands, trying to tamp down the panic long enough to think. She had escaped. With Constantine. She wasn’t dead—or at least, she hadn’t been, a few days ago. A groan escaped my lips at the thought.

  “Oh, Val.” Karma sat beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Warm. So warm, the aroma of night-blooming jasmine rising fragrantly off her smooth, dusky skin… Saliva flooded my mouth as my jaw began to ache. So thirsty.

  “She’ll make it through this,” Karma said. “Constantine is wily, and the lands around Telassar have been his for generations. He will know how to keep her safe.” When she began to rub the back of my neck with gentle pressure, a spark of arousal burst in my gut to flood my body with swollen heat. “Now, what were you saying about a dream?”

  I took a deep, shuddering breath, desperately trying to focus on her words instead of the delicious promise of the delicate blue vein that ran just above her collarbone. “He was in my dream, two nights back. Sebastian’s father. Burning a city, but not of Weres. Of vampires.”

  Karma’s hand stilled. “You had a dream about the razing of Sybaris?”

  “It was just a dream,” I panted, shaking with the effort of holding myself in check. The impulse to feed was growing stronger by the second, and I had no idea how long I could hang on before it overpowered me.

  Karma frowned. “No. It wasn’t. Because Sybaris was razed to the ground by Brenner’s elite forces a few days before he besieged Telassar. Our source fled there after he escaped Telassar, because Sybaris is the nearest Consortium outpost. But he found it in ruins.”

  “Weres and vampires fighting.” Was this the beginning of a war, like the ones to which Helen had alluded several times? “What will this do to the Consortium? To you and me? Oh God, to me and Alexa—”

  “Val, stop.” Karma
tugged hard on the short hairs at the back of my neck. Alexa had done that sometimes when she was seducing me, taking control of the moment, using her sensual force to compel me to surrender. Surrender…

  “Constantine and Helen are allies,” Karma was saying. I watched her full lips form the words and licked my own. “This isn’t a matter of Weres and vampires fighting. This is Balthasar Brenner and his cronies lashing out against the Consortium itself. Against our alliance.”

  In the pit of my belly, Thirst finally broke its chains. I wondered whether this was how Alexa felt, in the moment when her panther overwhelmed her consciousness.

  “Karma,” I whispered, barely clinging to lucidity. “Oh God, something’s—please, will you just—it’s not safe, please, go.”

  Something in my tone must have alerted her jackal, because in the span between two of my breaths, she was off the couch and her hand was closed around the doorknob. She faced away from me, head bowed, suddenly struggling with her inner beast for control.

  I should have been afraid, but I wasn’t. The rush in my ears was the thunder of her blood—hot and fresh and mine, mine, mine for the taking. My vision telescoped until all was darkness save for the buttery swath of skin where her neck met her shoulder. Reason fled.

  Yes.

  I rose and lunged for her in the same fluid movement, a cobra striking its prey. In the split second before my sharpened teeth sank into the smooth expanse of her skin, she whirled, snarling deep in her throat—an inhuman noise.

  Darkness descended, mercifully swift.

  *

  I woke to the steady beeping of a heart monitor. Blinded by the harsh fluorescent lights, I blinked until my vision cleared enough for me to distinguish my surroundings. A small room, its windows swathed by blackout curtains. The acrid scent of antiseptic. A dull ache in my left arm.

  Hospital. No. Not again!

  I sat bolt upright, clawing back the thin sheet that covered me. The metronome of the monitor leapt into hyperdrive, but my gaze skidded to a halt at the bag of blood hanging to my left, connected to the line that was buried into the crook of my elbow. I swallowed back a surge of bile as I realized what was happening. A transfusion. Someone else’s blood, not Alexa’s, flowing into my body.