Nevermore

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Nevermore Page 2

by J. C. McKenzie


  “I’m one of his victims,” Raven said. “I talk about how much he fucked me over and how glad I am that he’s no longer in my life.”

  Sarah rocked back on her heels. Her expression flattened, as if Raven’s words slapped the attitude right off her face. “What?”

  “I despise Robert. I want nothing to do with you or him, and I’m certainly not his whore.” Raven stopped rubbing her arm. The rock pulsed in her hand while the smooth surface remained cool against her skin.

  The woman’s shoulders slumped. Her gaze cut to the side. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” Raven folded her arms over her chest. “Oh? You stomped to my place of work, yelled at me, called me a whore, and now all you have to say is oh?”

  Sarah rubbed her arms as if subconsciously copying Raven. “I’m sorry. It’s just that… It’s just.”

  “Woman, spit it out. I have customers to ignore and tips to get stiffed on.”

  “I think he’s having an affair.” The woman’s lip trembled.

  You don’t say? Raven swallowed her bitter laughter. She remembered the burn of finding out the truth of Robert’s actions. The emotional damage was still raw enough for her not to be a complete asshole about the situation. “You’re probably right. After he left me with his debt, I discovered just how little he valued our relationship. He was cheating on me the entire time we were together.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. Then something happened—some change in her thoughts and emotions. Her gaze flashed under the bright lights. Her muscles tensed and her delicate hands balled into fists.

  “He’ll regret this,” she snarled.

  Raven raised a brow. “Oh, I sincerely hope he does.” She turned to go inside. “Best of luck with that. I’m going ba—”

  “And you’re going to help me.”

  Say what? Raven whirled around. The loose dirt on the cement landing crunched under her shoes. Sarah’s lips twisted into a cruel sneer. Her brows pinched in. Oh crap, she was serious.

  “Look,” Raven started. “I hate him with every fibre of my being, but it would take an officer two seconds to connect any crime involving Robert with the bitter ex-girlfriend he saddled with a mountain of debt.” She’d already thought of ways to hurt him. Bear, her twin brother had offered, and so had Cole, her something-or-Other. At the end of the day, though, as good as the revenge would feel, Robert’s punishment would be temporary; whereas the consequences of her actions would be permanent. She already let him affect her life more than once, she refused to give the asshat any more power.

  Her stepdad, Terry, always said she couldn’t put a price on a clear conscience. Well, actually, Raven could. About fifty thousand dollars. That’s the debt Dr. Douche left her with.

  She had to believe cosmic karma would eventually catch up with him and kick him in the proverbial sac.

  “You don’t have to do anything but find him.” Sarah tucked a chunk of wavy hair behind her ear.

  “Find him?”

  “He’s missing. I haven’t seen him since Wednesday morning. I assumed he was shacked up with his mistress.”

  Not a bad guess. Robert never had the gonads to break up with Raven in person. He ran away and left her a letter full of drivel. Thinking about his poor-me words, even now, made her want to track him down and throat punch him.

  “Did he leave a note?” Raven asked. Another gust of wind flung long strands of hair in her face. She pushed them away. Wind could be so annoying, yet, she yearned to fly off into the night and play in it.

  “No. Who does that?”

  “Robert. Robert does that. And is leaving without a note somehow better?”

  Sarah paused. “I guess not.”

  “If he’s missing, call the authorities.”

  Sarah shook her head. “He’s done this before. He’ll be back tonight or tomorrow and say he pulled some double or triple shifts and crashed at the hospital. He already laid down some groundwork and told me it was really busy, and they were short staffed. He warned me he might not come home. I naively believed him the first time, but I won’t be fooled twice. I went to the hospital and he wasn’t there. I want to know where he goes and who he’s with.”

  “Again, I’m sorry, but he’s not my problem anymore.” Raven shrugged and turned to leave for the warmth inside where she didn’t have to talk about an asshole anymore. “My advice? Cut and run. But check your bank statements first.”

  “I can pay you.”

  Raven halted. Money? Her ravens perked up again. Greedy beasts.

  “You’re a private investigator, right? You find missing things, Robert told me. I’ll pay you.”

  Raven turned to Sarah again.

  She had lost her snarl, but her body remained tense. The furry tang in her scent intensified.

  Well, why not? Raven dug out a card for Crawford Investigations from the undamaged section of her server apron. The corners were worn, and it had a few crease marks, but the name and number were legible.

  “If you’re serious about this, give the office a call on Monday and set up an appointment.”

  “But…”

  “But I’m working my other job right now and don’t have time to do a new client interview to get all the information. This is a professional business. There will be a contract. Rules. Expectations.” Unfortunately, that cut both ways. Raven would remain professional instead of slapping this woman in the face when she got annoying.

  “He’s missing and probably cheating. What else do you need?”

  Raven rolled her eyes on the inside. “I need you to call the office and set up a meeting.”

  “Can’t you start looking for him now and catch him in the act?”

  “No.” Raven walked back into the restaurant. Sarah started talking again, but Raven ignored her and let the door cut her off. The air heavy with grease hit her face.

  Mike looked up from table eight with wide eyes and a distraught expression, dirty dishes precariously perched on his limbs. A long coffee stain now decorated one leg of his kitchen whites.

  “Help,” he mouthed.

  Chapter Three

  “They say best men are molded out of faults, and, for the most, become much more the better for being a little bad.”

  ~ William Shakespeare

  Mike slid into the booth seat opposite Raven. The faux leather creaked, and air puffed out of the cushion when he plunked down and settled. He thunked his cast on the table.

  Raven wrinkled her nose. The worn, grease-soaked plaster radiated a stench all its own and it wasn’t pleasant. Surely, the cast had to be a health code violation, but Dan’s Diner lived life on the edge like that.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Mike said.

  Raven finished piling all her quarters and started working on the rest of the change. “I don’t. If I was better at this crap, I wouldn’t be working here.”

  “I guess the same could be said about my cooking.” He waved his stinky cast at her. “But I only need one good arm to flip burgers.”

  Raven looked up from her measly stacks of coins. “Yeah, but you’re different.”

  Mike rested his arms on the back of the booth, setting the stinky cast farther away from her sensitive nose. “How so?”

  “You’re only doing this to pay for school. You’re going places.”

  Mike skewered her with a dark look.

  Raven sat up. Her nineteen-year-old gamer brother was sweet and supportive with a side of occasional sarcasm and dubious hygiene. He rarely ever gave her dirty looks. At least not ones he meant.

  “I hate it when you do that,” he said.

  “Do what?”

  He sat up and leaned forward. “Talk down about yourself.”

  “It’s called self-deprecating humour, and I’m freaking hilarious.”

  Mike grunted. He opened his mouth to say more when the bell above the diner’s entrance jingled and the door swung open. A gust of early morning air laden with car grease and grime rushed in.

  “Oh, for fuck�
�s sake.” Mike flopped back in his seat. “I thought you ditched this guy.”

  Beul na h-Oidhche gu Camhanaich strode into the fluorescent lighting of Dan’s Diner to upbeat oldies blaring through the old speakers. Named in the language of the Underworld, which translated to “Mouth of the Night to First Light,” or “Dusk to Dawn” for the regular non-fancy folk, the Lord of Shadows commanded the darkest elements of the night. Well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a muscular chest tapering to a narrow waist, Raven knew firsthand how good his body felt against hers.

  Her mouth watered. She clamped her lips together and attempted to gather some willpower and dignity. Focus, Crawford.

  Cole’s dark Other gaze zeroed in on her, so dark the pupils appeared to bleed to the very edges of the iris, leaving only a silver outline.

  Silver lining.

  There had to be a joke in there somewhere, but nothing about the devastating assassin’s presence inspired humour.

  He wore his usual attire to blend in with mundane humans—dark jeans, and a blue hooded sweatshirt. He’d pushed up the sleeves to his elbows, exposing forearms corded with muscle. Those same arms had held her as he broke her world apart and put it back together again.

  Crap. Was she drooling? She wiped her chin.

  His features, too chiselled to appear pretty, gave his handsome face a lethal, rugged edge. He was beautiful in the same way a jaguar stalking prey through a jungle or a pack of wolves hunting down an elk in a coordinated effort was beautiful.

  The steel and oily grit of the North Burnaby night flooded in, but it also brought along Cole Camhanaich’s unique scent—a seductive forest after sunset when the shadows grew larger than her avid imagination, and the darkness filled with sweet memories and the whispers of salacious promises.

  In exchange for sparing her brother’s life and protection for her family, Raven had agreed to work with Cole to reclaim stolen property. It turned out taking on the dark fae with only her wits and finely-edged snark wasn’t her smartest plan, but she’d do anything to protect her family.

  “Let me grab you a seat.” Suzy, the waitress on the early morning red-eye shift, stepped forward, eyelashes fluttering.

  She’d grab something, all right. Dan’s Diner didn’t have a “Wait to be seated” sign. She wanted to nab him as a customer before any of the other servers could.

  Cole walked past Suzy without breaking stride or sparing her a glance.

  Raven didn’t dare look away. She couldn’t even if she wanted to. There was something mesmerizing with the efficient way Cole moved.

  Unlike others of his kind, his touch didn’t dampen her power. With each step he took toward her, the dark energy she housed inside intensified and pushed for release. Her scalp prickled and even without a mirror, she knew her straight hair curled in the presence of the dark fae lord.

  Mike snapped his attention back and forth between Raven and the Lord of Shadows, and groaned.

  “Raven.” Cole stopped a foot from their table. His low rumbling voice rolled over her like a thunderous wave.

  She squeaked. Possibly in greeting, maybe in excitement, probably in anticipation.

  Mike snarled.

  Cole’s gaze finally released her from its power and shifted to her brother. His expression remained blank. “Hello, Michael.”

  Her brother’s gaze dropped to the four puncture wounds scarring Cole’s forearm. Mike’s snarl eased to a smug grin. He’d left those marks during a detour to break into their parents’ house before heading to the emergency room. A night in which Raven hoped to never repeat again.

  Cole’s lip twitched. Apparently, Mike and Cole exchanged some non-vocal bro-code—Mike issuing a threat, and Cole acknowledging its receipt. Ridiculous, really. She loved her brother, but the fox shifter wouldn’t last a second in a physical altercation with the patron fae of assassins and Cole wouldn’t likely agree to some sort of computer hacking competition.

  Cole tilted his head toward the kitchen.

  Mike glanced at Raven, brows bunched.

  She nodded.

  Mike slid from the booth and stalked to the back of the restaurant. He wasn’t even on shift anymore, but she appreciated the privacy. No one wanted to swoon or drool over a man in front of their baby brother.

  Cole’s intense gaze returned to her. “May I?”

  Sweet baby Odin. That voice. Deep and gravelly, like a cross between a growl and the purr of a mountain lion, simple words coming out of that kissable mouth made her want to leap across the cheap laminate table and slap her body against his.

  Cole slid onto the booth seat across from her.

  “How’ve you been?” She bit her lip. After Raven killed Lloth, the Corvid Queen of Shadows, Cole took her home. Instead of letting him comfort her or take the opportunity to demand answers, she’d asked him to leave. Sure, during their search for her brother, he’d withheld information from her, but she kept evidence from him as well. Her need for space had more to do with her ignorance of the Underworld, the denizens within the Other Realms and how she fit into all of it.

  Her choice, though sound, didn’t stop her from dreaming of the Lord of Shadows. She woke up sweaty, frustrated, and rubbing against her sheets or her hand. She relived their time together over and over.

  Her choice.

  She’d never regretted a decision so much in her life. And that said a lot.

  Cole leaned back in the booth and draped his arms over the seat. “Busy. Lloth’s passing caused a lot of ripples within the Shadow Realm. You?”

  Passing. What a nice and tidy euphemism for having her head clipped off and her body crunched in a giant bird’s beak. Raven’s stomach twisted. Memories flashed in her mind. Blood. Tissue. A sickening crunch. The burst of metallic fluid across her tongue.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t think about it.

  What had Cole said? Lots of ripples? She nodded as if she knew exactly what those ripples were. She didn’t. She had no clue. How had she been? “Busy.”

  Cole’s gaze cut to the near empty diner.

  “I moved home and I’ve applied to go back to college.” Apparently, they now offered “mature student” grants. Hah! Talk about an oxymoron. It took Dad five minutes to stop laughing.

  “Good for you.” He smiled. The flash of straight white teeth mesmerized her. Last time he smiled, he’d faced three mercenaries intent on killing him and abducting her. This smile was different. This one was genuine.

  Her heart ached, and her hand itched to reach out and hold his hand.

  “How’s Chloe?” His sister, also known as the Claíomh Solais, had been abducted along with her twin about a month ago. That’s how she met Cole. They worked together to find and save their lost siblings.

  “Good. How’s Bear?”

  The civility of this conversation might kill her. He wasn’t here to trade pleasantries or ask about the twin brother he loathed. Bear had resumed his less-than-legal jobs after his safe return to the Mortal Realm, but he also made an effort not to be a selfish prick. She saw him, in person, more often now.

  Her powers and conspiracy of ravens had strengthened with his presence and grown in numbers.

  “Bear’s good.” She reached out and fiddled with the black gem sitting amongst a pile of quarters.

  He leaned back and watched her, dark gaze twinkling under simple diner lighting.

  “I have a giant metal scythe and no idea how to use it,” she blurted. Cole had left her Lloth’s weapon of choice before he disappeared from her life. She didn’t understand why he’d leave such a valuable and dangerous weapon in her incapable hands. It sat in her bedroom, leaned against the wall with a bra or two hanging from the skull-emblazoned blade.

  Cole’s dark brows shot up toward his hairline. Humour tugged at his lips. “I also have a large…scythe. I’d be happy to show you how to handle it.”

  Raven choked and heat flared up her neck and face. Not going there. Cole hadn’t graced her with his presence for sexual innuendoe
s or idle chitchat. Mike once accused her of getting distracted by Cole’s dong. She needed to stay focused this time. “Why are you here?”

  Cole leaned forward. His lips parted. His gaze snagged on the gem pinched between her thumb and forefinger. His brows furrowed. “Pretty rock. Where’d you get it?”

  That’s not what he’d planned to say. Why the change in direction? “Some customer,” she answered.

  His frown deepened.

  “He called me mo bhanrigh. It sounded Gaelic or Underworlder. Know what it means?”

  Cole stiffened. “Mo bhanrigh?”

  “That’s what I said.” Naturally, he pronounced it exactly like the dad-sweater toting customer.

  Cole shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

  He didn’t shake his head because he didn’t know. He shook it because he didn’t plan to tell her. Grrr.

  “Well?” she prodded.

  “Well, what?”

  “What’s it mean?”

  Cole’s smile grew. He leaned forward again and reached out. He caught a lock of hair that had escaped her messy bun and let it slip through his fingers.

  “I’ll tell you,” he said. “After dinner tonight.”

  “It’s Sunday.” Well, technically it was Sunday, but the early morning pre-dawn hours belonged to the night, so it still felt like Saturday to Raven. The clubbers had already come and gone, staggering out the doors to go home and sleep it off.

  Cole straightened. “And you never miss roast night.”

  Raven grinned. “You’ve had my mom’s cooking. Would you miss it?”

  Something flashed across his gaze. His confident grin slipped to a smile, but not a happy one. Something about his expression seemed sad, as if he’d taken off a mask and let her glimpse a little of what lay beneath. In an instant, it vanished.

  “No, Einin,” he said. “I wouldn’t.”

  Her chest warmed at his nickname for her. Little bird in Irish, according to Mike. “Did you…” She put the gem down amongst her sea of small change. “Did you want to come?”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, the room darkened and grew warmer. The space between them closed as if by sheer willpower alone, Cole managed to shrink the room. Only the cheap table separated her from the beautiful man on the other side. The powerful and lethal dark fae lord she knew so little about, who still managed to make her blood sing. When she first saw him and before she learned his name, she’d called him TDD for Tall, Dark and Dangerous.

 

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