Page 14 of White Raven
“For a few hundred years, I’ve tended a bar. It’s what I do. It’s my way of life, if you will. Listening, making conversation and knowing things…is all part of the job description. I may not talk much, but I’m a very good listener.”
Sarah shifted, biting her lip. “So…Dahlia told him to let other covens on this continent know that the Black Bird coven would reign over them…and John adopted the coven name?”
“Sends a pretty powerful message back to her, doesn’t it? Although, she never once seemed very afraid. We carried on the way we always have, and she never pursued him. When she mentioned having a place in Hell for him, I imagine it was because Dahlia thought her numbers would dramatically grow when we arrived here—and they never did. Not in the way she’d hoped. He took that from her.” Tony tapped the ashes into the cup Athan had been using.
“She never talked about John Allan,” Decclan grunted, eyes distant.
“She wouldn’t have, would she?” Athan offered, thumbing his chin. “Somebody with as much pride as Dahlia and obsessed with power wouldn’t let weakness like that show on her.”
“Well, if John Allan wants his flock, then he can have it. I’m not staying here to have some phony elder try to control me the way she did. I’m outta here, mates.” Decclan’s jaw was hard, and his body stiff.
“Murder,” Sarah breathed, smirking. “A gathering of crows is called a murder.”
Something in Athan’s chest tightened, and he looked over at her, smiling.
“How’d she know you were his daughter? Better question—howare you his daughter?” Devin palmed his full stomach and leaned back in his chair.
“I don’t know the answer to either of those things,” Sarah frowned.
Athan leaned forward. “Have Patrick’s parents cleared the tavern? Dahlia’s office? Her chambers?”
“Not sure,” Decclan shrugged. “I’m not even really sure what they plan to do with the place. They consider it like the kid’s grave. But knowing how he died, and who was responsible…I doubt they’ll leave any trace of Dahlia.”
“Did you give them any specific requests for her personal effects?” Athan asked.
“We told them they could trash it for all we cared. Hock anything they could get a dime off of.” Devin’s expression was truly unbothered. It was good to know someone else loathed that bitch just as much as he did.
“Thank you all for everything. It’s a start, at least. Maybe we’ll see you again on the other side of the pond.” Sarah smiled sweetly at them. All three of the men stared at her.
“You never have to thank us for anything,” Tony croaked. “There’s no way we could ever repay you for what you’ve given us, Miss Sarah. I’m truly grateful to have met you. If either of you should ever need us…please.”
“I second that,” Decclan smiled.
“Yeah, especially if you ever need a third wheel. I never mind being that chap.” Devin put a fresh toothpick in the corner of his wide grin and winked.
“That’s nice,” Sarah blushed. “Rain check, friend.”
Devin shrugged a shoulder. “Worth a shot.”
Some part of him felt strange sitting behind his desk at the precinct. Malcolm Foley’s eyes trailed up to the folded flag sitting atop his bookcase, gathering dust in the glass case. While his leg had mostly healed at this point, his limp was hard to hide when he’d crossed the threshold of the elevator this morning and was met with just as many questions about his health as regular, oblivious greetings after the holiday. It seemed that very few, if any, knew the truth about his injury. He figured that was a good thing, but his mind inevitably swam right back to that truth. That truth—and all the other truth surrounding the death of his partner, and who Rhaena Northwood really was. Little things started coming back to him. Things that he had carelessly overlooked.
Like the small tattoo on her ankle that showed above her heeled boot, whenever she crossed a leg. A wolf. The nickname he’d given her when he’d been impressed by her fierceness in the training center. He used to swear that her growling as she hit bags and dummies on the mat, had always seemed a little inhuman. He couldn’t believe that he’d missed the exact time of the moon cycle, when she’d take her usual time off every month. He’d always assumed it was due to a cycle of a different sort, and obviously led his mind far away from anything that had to do withthat. She’d always had a different scent about her too…which he chalked up to his platonic affection for her. But the question still remained—how had he not known?
His thoughts were broken by her very voice as she and Jenkins laughed their way through the elevator and headed towards her desk just past his door. She paused, conceding a step and peeked into the doorway, holding a plastic bag with a—gift box?
“Morning, Cap.” Her smile seemed almost unaffected by all the things they kept secret. All the things that had happened. Everything she now knew about him. Foley stretched his long legs underneath his desk.
“Northwood,” he inclined his head. “Nice holiday?”
Jenkins bit down on his lip, and excused himself, leaving her to stand awkwardly in the doorway, smirking and shaking her head. “Lovely. Yours?” She gave a pointed look at the space under his desk.
“I’m on the mend. Did you need to see me?”
“Umm…yes, actually.” She stepped into his office, and cracked the door, raising the plastic bag in her hands.
“Are your gift-wrapping skills that bad, Gloves?” Foley smirked.
Rhaena shrugged, smiling. “I wouldn’t say they’re good. But this isn’t mine.”
