Page 203 of Black Bird

Rhaena sighed, sniffling and hanging her head briefly before raising it back to him. “Captain … I—” she paused when he looked at her. Her face started to go fuzzy, and dizziness set in. “Cap.” She took his chin, raising it. “Malcolm!” It all went dark. He could barely hear their voices as he slowly faded out.

“Help me get him into the bedroom.”

CHAPTER 37

COME JOIN THE MURDER

Dahlia cursed under her breath as she’d reached Conrad’s voicemail yet again, throwing her phone to her bed and pacing the floor. She’d been calling him all evening. She hadn’t heard from him in days, and he hadn’t returned any of her calls. A small voice in the back of her mind reminded her of the senator’s words from the several times that he’d visited the club.

“You should really invest in a TV … don’t you watch the news?”

It never meant a thing in the world to her before when he’d said it—even after seeing a photo of Athan Kane toting around that humanbitchon his motorcycle. For some reason, now it was all she could think about. Dahlia swiped the phone from the bed, pulling up the local news website and scrolling past the menu to the breaking news headline that made her very breath catch in her throat.

Senator Conrad Stratford among suspected dead, after police respond to gunfire at Boston residence …

“You’re shitting me …” she breathed, stalking towards her bedroom door. She jerked it open, her mouth parted to summon Decclan, but she paused when she found the hallway empty. She’d forgotten that she’d permitted him to have the next few days off, and Devin was posted at the door to the club. For the first time in she couldn’t remember when, Dahlia found herself prowling through the dark hallways to fetch Decclan herself. The halls were deadly quiet. Only the sound of her clacking heels echoed from the walls as she finally reached his room. She raised her knuckles to knock on the door, but paused, remembering who the hell she was. She wouldn’t knock on anyone’s door. These doors belonged to her.

Her hand gripped the knob, and she barged in with the news of Conrad’s demise on her lips, only to find Decclan’s room as empty as the hallways. Her eyebrows lowered, and she turned around, confused, and stepped back out into the hall. She lingered there for a moment, and it wasn’t until then that she realized … it was far too quiet. Checking her phone again, it flashed nearly 4:30 in the morning. She hadn’t realized how long she’d spent in her chambers. The club was closed, and everyone would likely be cleaning up. Maybe Decclan had decided to help them. Dahlia headed for the door that led out into the tavern. She pushed the heavy door open and was surprised to find the entire club void of a single soul.

Where the hell was everybody?

The dance cages were empty. The room was dark and silent. The bar was clean, and only the dim lights where the wine glasses hung were burning over the long stretch of bar top. She didn’t remember telling anyone to close early, but by the looks of the space, it appeared they had.They had to have. As packed as it usually was here, it would have taken at least two hours to clean all of this. What was even more odd, was that usually, the coven enjoyed biding their remaining time before sunrise in the empty tavern, conversing with one another—or sometimes other things. Tonight … there was nothing. Not even a whisper as she’d passed room after room, of anyone being in their own chambers.

“I was wondering when you’d finally come out,” a low voice said from the darkness. Dahlia stilled, her head darting towards the sound.

“Decclan?” she called. A light flickered on in the corner of the dance floor, and he appeared with his hands in his pockets. The foreign flutter of nervousness in her stomach eased, and she started toward him. “What is this? Where is everyone?”

“When you were human, did you ever celebrate Christmas?” Decclan asked, slowly stepping forward.

“Decclan, the last person that spoke to me about a holiday, is sitting in an urn over my bed. You wanna take that risk?”

He shrugged, smiling softly. “I figured as much. But as a boy, I used to really enjoy it. Since it’s nearly that time of year, I thought I’d surprise you with a little gift.”

“I’ve never much cared for surprises, Decclan. But since we’re on that subject, I—”

“Whatever it is, it can wait.” Dahlia’s mouth hung open from his audacity.

“Excuse me?”

“We might be immortal, and altogether wretched, but I’m still a man, Dahlia. For once, would you just allow me to dote on my queen?”

She wasn’t sure what to say. She’d never seen him so bold—so … driven. It slightly aroused her. She quirked a brow, and smirked. “I assume the privacy is your doing?”

“I can’t take full credit for that, mi’lady … but I think you’ll be pleased.”

She slowly approached him, stopping about a foot away. “Well … by all means. Enlighten me.” Decclan smiled, dipping his head.

“Tony,” he called. The light over the stage flashed on, the sound echoing through the empty room. The bartender stood next to a single chair on the stage. Devin stood on the opposite side, and in that chair, tied with rope … was Sarah St. James.

Dahlia’s mouth dropped open, and she looked up at her loyal henchman in surprise. “You?” she asked, her mouth turning up in an open smile. “Did you also kill the senator?” Decclan’s brows drew together, and he cocked his head.

“Stratford?” he shook his head slowly. “No … why?”

“That’s what I was going to tell you. Word is that he’s dead.” St. James shifted uncomfortably in her chair; her gagged face riddled with worry. “He didn’t have her?”

“Nope. It’s news to me. Tony here caught sight of her in the club, and flagged Devin down. He came to get me. We grabbed her.”

“Is that right?” Dahlia turned her face towards her prisoner. “Well … aren’t you a brave one? And what, pray tell, would your handsome detective think of you creeping into the lion’s den, pet?” she asked, slowly clacking towards the stage. Dried blood caked the side of her pretty face and Dahlia clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “As valuable as her blood is, you saw fit to spill it, Decclan? I’ve never known you to be so ignorant.”

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