Page 114 of White Raven
“I—um…yeah. I think so.” Brandon leaned toward her, stretching his arms, and she practically fell into them, gripping the backs of his shoulders tight. “Athan…did you find Athan?” She pulled back to look at his face, and he slowly shook his head.
“Why don’t we start with a shower, and some food. Then we can all sit down and catch you up on everything. Good?” Brandon asked, stroking the side of her face.
“Okay.”
“The bird informs me that my little raven has taken flight.”
Ryan leaned against the wall, watching her master as he wrote at a small desk with his back facing her. The hands that she had clenched in the pockets of her coat began to sweat.
What if the fucking bird informed him of more than that?
“She has. Apparently on her way to Virginia. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He scratched an old pen across the worn pages of a journal that had seen better days, and didn’t bother to turn around. “I knew she could do it on her own. She just needed a bit of an incentive. What of the mate?”
Ryan swallowed, picturing the state of what Athan Kane must look like right now. Her shame grew heavier every moment he spent inside that box. “He hasn’t been able to free himself. It’s as you said it would be. How did you know he’d weaken like that?” She already knew the answer, but maybe after all these years, he’d slip and give her some clue.
“I know the reason for your curiosity. When you’ve paid the debts for your family’s protection, I’ll return your father to you. One family for another…surely you haven’t forgotten.”
Such a fine line between love and hate. She was grateful for his help, but her hatred for the price she was forced to pay for that help was stifling. Over the years, he had become a father enough for her. So much so that she found herself loving him in some strange way. But there was no room for the kind of twisted insanity this man harbored. Could she overpower him, and end him in the most brutal way imaginable? Of course. But he had an army of a coven in different parts of the world, who would no doubt hunt her and her kind to their deaths. Was it not bad enough that werewolves were once hunted in the same way the witches of old times were? Burned at stakes, and enslaved to vampires all over the world? Seers, and beings who could control and wield nature itself as a weapon…she couldn’t execute hermaster. The consequences were too great. As old as he was, there was no telling what manner of allies he’d accrued.
“I haven’t forgotten. I just don’t see why you’ve put them through all of this. Her mother is dead. Wouldn’t it have—”
“Don’t deign to question my ways!” He yelled, forcefully turning himself in his wooden chair to look at her. Ryan startled against the wall. His dark, haunted eyes burned with the kind of crazy you’d be better suited to find in a nuthouse. “If your conscience is damning you, then that’s another weakness you’ll have to learn to rectify. I don’t recall asking for your thoughts on the matter. Neither one of them are suffering any less than I have. I need an heir that will have a spine steeled enough to delegate this coven. How I test them is none of your concern. You’ll do as instructed until your indenture is relieved.”
“Yes, master,” she whispered, lowering her chin.
“You’re dismissed. Board the next flight to Richmond and report her success. Check her mate before you leave.”
Ryan nodded once, and her footsteps were heavy down the old, narrow steps. Her walk to the grave seemed long with thoughts of her mother and her well-being. Thoughts of all the others like them that were waiting to hear their fate if she failed. She could hear Detective Kane’s beating against the coffin underground, long before she reached it. Silent to human ears, but drumming in hers, filling her with more pity that she couldn’t afford to have right now. His faint screaming rang in her ears, and she lifted her hood over her head, lighting a cigarette she knew he’d want, could he have one.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, exhaling her smoke as her heels clacked on the sidewalk.
There was something off about the ceiling. The beams didn’t fit quite right, and either it was made to make you think about it, or whoever built this place, did so in a hurry…and whoeverownsit needed their money back. All of which Brent made a mental note of as he laid on the stiff leather couch in the therapist’s office. He’d have to make sure to check every inch of every wall to get the worth out of his penthouse. He wondered if Foley was still interested, as he’d found himself reluctant to keep walking through the door. Wren didn’t like to stay, or hang out there often, and honestly…he didn’t mind it so much. He tended to be more content at Wren’s place these days.
“Brent? Are you still with me?” Dr. Lennox asked, breaking his concentration.
Shit…what did she ask?
“Um…sorry, Doc. What was the question?”
“Where’d you go, just now?” she asked instead, crossing one of her legs. Brent sighed, and drummed his fingers over his belly, shaking his head as he continued to stare at the ceiling.
“Don’t you think we’ve accomplished what we set out to accomplish? Are you not tired of seeing me, yet? Or am I actually crazy, and you’re trying to figure out how to tell me I need to be in some padded room?”
Dr. Lennox chuckled. “You’re not crazy, Brent. And that was never why you were here. You’ve gone through a lot and giving it a voice helps relieve you of everything you think you need to hold onto. So, I’ll ask you again. Where’d you go?”
He tightened his mouth. “Honestly? Nowhere. I was sitting here thinking that your ceiling is fucked up, and how I still have a long list of things to do before I even think about selling my place.”
“So, you’re still thinking of leaving your apartment?”
“Yeah…it’s never really felt like home, anyway.”
He could hear her shift in her chair, and her pen scraping across her notepad indicated that for some reason, she found that interesting. All it accomplished was irritation on his end.
“So, are you saying that you’ve found somewhere else that feels like home? Or someone?”
Shit…that was it. Clever old bitty.
