Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1) (28 page)

“Yes, everything’s fine. I just
need to get back.”

“All right then, luv.” Flo stood to
give him a hug. “Take care.”

Raven kissed her on the cheek.
“Thank you for a lovely meal.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

He hugged everyone goodbye. While
he was putting his coat on, Harold approached him again and asking him if he
was sure everything was okay.

“No. Just a personal issue I need
to sort out.” Raven patted him on the shoulder. “Make sure Roman is okay before
you leave.”

“Will do.”

With a nod, Raven walked into the
night.

“You came,” Brandon said from his
position by the main entrance of USL.

Raven noticed he looked uneasy. He
was shivering, hands wrapped around his body, dressed only in a T-shirt and
jeans. “Why don’t you have a coat on? It’s freezing.”

“Concerned are you?” Brandon said nastily through chattering teeth.

“Don’t be like that.”

“Walk with me.”

Raven hesitated. “I think you
should get inside.”

“I don’t want to go inside. I want
you to walk with me.” He gritted his teeth to stop them chattering.

Raven sighed.  He guessed he
deserved this. He should have been more careful. If he’d allowed himself to
look, he would have seen that Brandon was clearly not the kind for a fling.
This man was into more than sex being sex, he was looking for love. In a selfish
haze of need, the need to obliterate Ossian from his mind, Raven had grasped
onto the first available and willing body.  Maybe it had been the answering
need, the softness in Brandon’s eyes that had drawn him. It didn’t matter,
Raven had done this and it was up to him to put it right.  “Do you want to wear
my jacket?”

Brandon laughed harshly. “Doing the
chivalrous thing are you?”

Raven sighed.

“Never mind. Let’s walk.”

“Where are we going?”

“For a walk along the canal. In
Hackney.”

“Hackney? Its miles away.”

“And your point is?”

“It’s cold, Brandon, look at you,
you’re freezing.”

“I don’t care.”

“Lets-”

“You hurt me,” Brandon said, almost
choking on the words.  He took a stumbling step backwards. “You really hurt
me.”

“I’m sorry. I had no intention of
hurting you.”

Brandon snorted and continued
walking.

Raven followed.  This was bad. Brandon was acting unstable. What if he threw himself into the canal when they got there,
or froze to death on the way? It was Raven’s duty to make sure he was safe, and
if that meant taking a walk on a freezing night and listening to a little abuse
then so be it.  A couple of minutes went by during which Raven noticed Brandon’s shivering intensify.

 Raven tried to reason with him
again. “Let’s go inside and get you warm, we can talk there.”

“I want to go to the canal.” He
sounded like a petulant child. His slight frame was wracked with tremors and he
wrapped his arms around himself for warmth.

“You’ll get ill.” Raven reached out
and touched his arm. It was as cold as ice. “Brandon, you’re freezing!”

Brandon spun to face him, grabbed
him by the face and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Raven pulled back. “No, Brandon,
that’s not want I want,” he said clearly and calmly, trying to penetrate the
haze clouding Brandon’s gaze.

Brandon stared at him, his eyes
wide and welling with tears. He turned and carried on walking.

“Brandon!” Raven tried to keep up
with Brandon’s hastening pace.

“We’ll talk when we get there. I
just want to get there.”

“To the canal?”

Brandon nodded.

After getting off the bus he’d
convinced Brandon to board, Raven followed Brandon in silence down the steps
onto the towpath running alongside the canal. Brandon didn’t stop. He carried
on walking until they were under a bridge.

Once at their destination Brandon seemed to physically sag.  He fell back to lean against the wall. Raven stood in
front of him, waiting.

“I’m so cold,” Brandon said.

“Take my jacket, please.”

“I don’t want it.” Brandon shook his head rapidly, his eyes glistening with tears.

“Please take it.” Raven sighed.

“Hold me.”

Raven sighed again. This was
getting worse.

“Hold me, Raven. All I’ve wanted
for so long was for you to hold me. I’ve had so many dreams about being in
those arms.” He gestured towards Raven’s arms. “And they did hold me, didn’t
they? They held me in bed and in the club. And you kissed me and swept me
completely off my feet. My hero, my prince…he finally saved me.” He started to
sob.

“I was never your hero or your
prince, Brandon.”

“Yes you were.” Brandon whimpered
as his tears began to fall. He started to slide down the stone wall.

Raven’s senses picked up the scent
of blood. Grasping Brandon, he pulled the man toward him. “Don’t do that,
you’ll hurt yourself.”

Brandon buried his face into
Raven’s chest, breathing in his scent. “I’m in your arms,” he whispered
longingly.

Raven gently extricated himself and
Brandon let out a pained wail. “I thought we had found each other.”

“Brandon, we’ve been through this.
What happened between us was the two of us having fun.”

“NO!” Brandon’s nose was running
now, his face wet with tears. “It was supposed to be love!” His face was
suddenly filled with rage, transforming his expression into that of a fierce
gargoyle.

Raven took a sunned step back,
shocked by this sudden change in demeanour.  He quickly recovered his wits,
injecting a soothing tone to his voice. “We need to get you home…” He slowly
withdrew his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call a taxi to take us back…” He
stopped, his head snapping up as he detected a new scent in the air.

Brandon collapsed onto the ground
as if someone had cut the strings holding him up. “You really hurt me.” His
slight frame shook with sobs.

Raven stood, captivated by the
strange yet familiar, almost cloying cologne in the air. It was almost
nauseating in its intensity yet it sent a throbbing thrill through him. “What
is…Brandon…?” The scent was overwhelming now.

He staggered back, dropping his
phone as he lost his balance. The phone crashed against the concrete,
scattering into pieces. He braced himself for the impact, for the sensation of
cold water, his body suspended in a strange anticipatory free-fall as he fell
helplessly backwards. And then he was being yanked forward by the lapels of his
coat.  His knees met concrete hard, pain flaring up through his kneecaps. He
coughed, trying to purge himself of the syrupy scent, bracing himself with his
hands as he fell forward onto all fours. Spluttering, he pushed himself back
into a kneeling position, scraping his palms on concrete, trying desperately in
frantic gasps to take in some air that wasn’t tainted by the cologne, but he
was to be handed no reprieve. Thick phlegm filled his mouth and he hawked and
spat it out. With his watery, hazy vision, he looked up to see two legs
standing by him. He turned his head and hawked again, trying desperately to
clear his lungs. Beyond those legs Brandon sat weeping, looking woefully at
him.

Raven slowly lifted his head upward
to see violet eyes watching him.

37.

 IN PIECES

“I’ll be coming down after
Halloween– I’ve managed to book a few days off.” She spoke into her mobile
phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, while she pulled on her bath robe.

“That’s great, hun, I can’t
wait!’
”

Her dad sounded genuinely excited
and she felt a stab of guilt.  She hadn’t kept in touch half as much as she
should have, but she’d make it up to him.  “How’s mum?”

“The same.”
He sighed.
“The
specialist
was encouraging but I can read between the lines.  They were
never able to diagnose exactly what was wrong with your mother, or why it happened. 
A medical first, they said.  A waking coma, and there’s no way to predict if
she will ever come out of it nor to say that she won’t.”
He sighed again.
“I just wish I’d seen the signs, acted sooner.”

“You mean her memory lapses?”

“Yes.  She started to have them
before we discovered she was pregnant with you, I just wrote them off as
stress. She was preparing for a big show at the time, working really hard to
get her paintings ready for the gallery opening. Even though, I just wish…”

“It’s not your fault, dad. You
couldn’t have known,” she said firmly.

“You’re right, I know that but
still…”
he trailed off.
“Look, we’ll talk more face to face
when
I see you.”

“Over some Chinese?”

“Whatever your heart desires.”
He chuckled.

“Give mum a kiss from me…tell
her…tell her I’ll see her soon and that…that I love her.” She blinked back
unexpected tears.  It was stupid really, she didn’t really know her mother,
only what her father had told her, and the picture she had painted in her mind,
but she loved her nonetheless, maybe more because her mother wasn’t able to
reciprocate.  She loved for the both of them. “See you soon, dad.”

He sighed.
‘Bye, hun.’
He
rang off.

Padding into the kitchen after a
quick shower and change, Rose prepared to make herself a hot drink. The gym had
been manic all day due to a new promotion they were running– discount
membership and free trials on the self-defence classes.  It meant extra work
and no extra pay.  A few weeks ago this wouldn’t really have bothered her but
now, well, now things felt different.  She’d discovered a new side to herself,
a new world and a new life. The gym in comparison felt completely mundane. She
had the house to herself. Roman still wasn’t back from work and Flo had taken Erin to the cinema. 

Plucking a large black mug off the
draining board she carried it over to the kettle, placing it on the edge of the
work surface. Turning to flip on the kettle, she accidentally knocked the mug,
sending it over the edge where it crashed to the floor.

“Shit!” She bent to retrieve the
pieces of ceramic, cursing under her breath.

“That was Raven’s favourite mug,” a
voice intoned from behind her. She gasped in shock.

“Roman, can you please not use your
super stealth around me.”

“He uses it every time he comes
over.” He was staring at the broken mug with a horrified expression on his
face.

She frowned– maybe Raven had some
kind of primitive animal possessive value for the mug. “Um, don’t worry, I’ll
replace it. Good as new. I’ll ask Flo where she got it. I’m sure Raven won’t rip
my throat out over a mug.”

Roman looked up at her as if she
was crazy, and then shook his head. “Bloody hell, Rose, forget the mug, it’s
not…Raven’s missing…the mug…well it just seemed like a portent or something.”

“Portent?”

“You know, a sign.”

“
I
know what portent means,
I just didn’t think
you
did.”

“Look, we can trade insults later,
right now we need you.”

“Me?”  Raven was missing and they
needed her.  Raven was missing! It finally sank in. “Raven’s missing?” She
gasped.

“Yeah, we’ve covered this, get
dressed, and grab a coat. We need to move.”

It didn’t occur to ask how she
could help. The fact that Raven was missing, and that Roman felt there may be
something she could do to help, was enough of a reason to burst into action.

Ten minutes later and they were on
their way.

“Where are we going?” she asked as
they strode toward the tube station.

“Canary Wharf.”

“It’s still going to voicemail,”
Kris cried, clutching his mobile as if it were the culprit responsible.

“Stop it, Kris!” Harold made a
swipe for the mobile but Kris ducked out of reach.

“I think we can safely assume he’s
not going to answer,” Richard said solemnly.  “He hasn’t checked in all day,
his apartment hasn’t been slept in and he hasn’t been to work today. It’s safe
to assume that wherever Raven is, he is unable to get to a phone.”

Kris made as if to hurl his phone
across the room but was intercepted by Harold who deftly extracted it from his
fingers. “We need to be able to stay in touch,” he said softly.

Kris nodded taking a deep breath.

Harold calmly handed him his phone
back.

“I can feel your distress,” Richard
said. “If we are to retrieve Raven we must be calm and think with our heads.”

“Can you…can you feel him?” Kris
asked.

“No. I lost contact with Raven. I
believe it may have been sometime late last night, as when I awoke I could not
sense him.”

“What…what does that mean?”  Damon
asked hesitantly.

“It means he’s dead.” Harold
growled.

“No!” Richard snapped, his eyes
blazing. “No, he is not dead, simply disconnected from the pack bond somehow,
maybe through distance or through artificial suppressants.” 

Kris looked confused but Damon and
Harold exchanged knowing glances.

“What? What does that mean?” Kris
demanded.

“It means that he may have been
drugged. Fuck!” Harold resisted the urge to put his fist through something.
Regardless of his issues with the Beta, Raven was still a fellow wolf, and pack
at that. And as such, no one had the right to violate him in such a manner. 
Messing with a wolf’s senses was a big no, and when he got his hands on the
bastard that had dared to cross the line, he would teach them the true meaning
of pain until they begged for a pain suppressant!

“I completely agree.” Richard
locked eyes with Harold having felt his murderous thoughts. “In this instance I
may join you.” They shared a moment of absolute understanding.

“So he’s not dead?” Kris asked
hopefully.

“He’s not dead.” Richard asserted. 

They all agreed. Despite knowing
that there was no way of telling for sure, that death was a real possibility, and
that Thistle may have only been the beginning, death was not under
consideration. If they were going to have any hope of finding Raven they needed
to stay focused and grief would not allow that.  So they grasped their Alpha’s
assertions and made them their own.

Roman led Rose into the foyer of a
large, imposing apartment block.  Fifteen storeys high, the fifteenth floor
being a penthouse, which was the residence of the pack’s Alpha, Richard. 

Rose remembered him from when she
had been held prisoner in the glass box.  She no longer held it against him. He
had just been doing his job, though at the time, she recalled she would have,
given half the opportunity, rearranged his face.

The foyer was a large rectangular
lobby, all dull steel and shiny mirrors.  A door to the right indicated a
stairway and before them were the lifts.  Roman led the way to the lifts,
summoning one with the press of a button.  A few seconds later and they were
riding up to the fifteenth floor. Then came another set of reinforced doors in
another steel decorated lobby.

Roman pressed a buzzer, there was a
slight pause then a disembodied voice enquired as to their identity. 

“It’s Roman, 1585.” There was the click of a lock disengaging and they were through the doors. The corridor behind
the doors was carpeted in deep red– the walls painted a warm marigold and lit
brightly by overhead lights.

Once again, Roman led the way,
turning right and walking a few paces down the corridor.  They approached a door,
which swung open before Roman could knock.

“It’s about time, what took you so
long?” Harold stepped aside to let them in– staring intently at Rose as she
slipped passed him. 

Following Roman’s lead, she found
herself in a large living area– deep leather sofas, a large glass-topped coffee
table, a hi-tech looking sound system, a spectacular view of the city through
large, panoramic windows, and four pairs of eyes trained on her. 

“Hi.” She gave a little finger
wave, nodding at Kris and Damon who were seated on the largest sofa and
inclining her head in Richard’s direction. Her gaze lingered on the smartly
dressed woman who was sitting, legs crossed at the ankles, on one of the
smaller sofas. With her silver blonde hair falling in soft waves to her
shoulders, piercing blue eyes and finely chiselled features she was striking in
appearance.  Acknowledging Rose’s regard, the woman inclined her head in
greeting, her cupid bow lips curving in a warm smile. “Rose, it’s so good to
finally meet you.” Her voice was honey-dipped, sweet and lustrous.

“Er, you too.” She faltered.
“Sorry, and you are?” 

The woman smiled wider. “Richard’s
wife. My name is Marianne.”

Rose looked shocked. The woman
hardly looked old enough to be someone’s wife let alone Richard’s. But then,
how old was Richard? She’d just assumed he was old because he was an Alpha. 
She turned her gaze to study him and found herself the object of scrutiny. 

“Werewolves don’t age at the same
rate as humans,” he said simply, a twinkle in his eyes.

“How did you…did you read my mind?”
she asked indignantly.

“No, Rose. Just your body
language.”

“Oh, so you can’t…” She raised her
hands and wiggled her fingers.

“No.” He shook his head. “As an
Alpha I can connect with my pack, sense their emotions and sometimes their
thoughts, but humans are a closed book to me.  In these cases I must rely on my
intuition and my heightened perceptual skills.”  He indicated that she take a
seat. 

Rose glanced at Roman, who nodded,
and she stepped forward and lowered herself on the sofa beside Kris.  She
wasn’t normally a person who looked to others for leadership– she was a more
lead by example kind of woman. But around the wolves things seemed different. 
There was an obvious protocol and respect, and in this case thrumming energy
pressing in on her from all around.  They were tense, on the edge, she could
feel it, and she didn’t want to be the person to push them over the edge. 

“Would you like a drink before we
get started?” Richard enquired.

“No, I’d rather just do this...whatever
it is you need me to do. Raven’s missing and sitting around drinking coffee
isn’t going to help find him.” The last part came out a little more shortly
than she had intended. “Sorry, just a little on edge.”

Richard nodded, unfazed.

“A woman after my own heart.”
Harold stage whispered.

Richard shot him a quelling look
before turning back to Rose. “We are all on edge. And yes, you’re right we need
to get started. However, Maxwell is still not here yet and without him there is
little we can do.” He shot a meaningful glance in Damon’s direction. 

Damon nodded imperceptibly and
slipped out of the room.

“Where’s he going?” Rose asked.

“To call Maxwell, see where he is.”
Roman explained.

“So, a drink?”  Richard asked
again.

 Rose shrugged. “Coffee would be
great.”

Marianne rose regally from her
perch and left the room.

“Where…?”

“Coffee.” Roman said.

She slumped back in her seat.  It
was like watching a well conducted orchestra with Richard as the conductor.

“While we’re waiting maybe we
should get the map out.” Richard suggested.

Harold turned and left the room.

This time she didn’t need to ask.

The map had been spread onto the
coffee table, Maxwell had arrived and they were all congregated around it.  She
still had no idea what part she was to play but she was certain she would find
out soon enough.

“You sure this will work?”  Roman
asked Maxwell.

“Trust me.” Maxwell said shortly.
“The spell will pinpoint either where he is or the last place he was, depending
on which one is stronger.” 

No one said a word, each thinking
the same thing but none daring to voice their thoughts.

“We can then search the area and we
should…find him.” Maxwell finished, avoiding Richard’s penetrating gaze. 
“Okay, so I need something that belongs to him.” He held out a hand and Harold
placed a toothbrush in it.  “Great.” Delving into his pocket he pulled out a
vial of powder. “Stand back.” He began to sprinkle the powder over the map,
clutching the toothbrush in one hand and mumbling under his breath.  Slowly at
first, then faster, the particles swirled and circled the perimeter of the map.
Faster and faster until with a soft whoosh they congregated and settled in a
tiny pile on one area of the map.

Richard leant forward peering at
the map. “Hackney.” He looked up confused.

“We didn’t check there.” Damon
confirmed. 

The wolves had done a sweep of the
area around Raven’s flat, Flo’s house and the university, as well as checking
Raven’s favourite haunts. But Hackney hadn’t been on their list.

“Last trace is Hackney.” Maxwell
confirmed, peering at the map. “Around the canal.” 

All eyes turned to stare at Rose. 

Okay, now she was beginning to feel
a little overwhelmed.  She cleared her throat. “You didn’t use this spell to
find Thistle. Why not?”