Everafter Series 2 - Nevermore by Nell Stark, Trinity Tam Page A

be jeopardized. I grasped the rope and swung my legs over the edge, then eased my grip enough to descend into the billowing haze. All too soon, I found myself dangling at its end, thick smoke obscuring the length of the drop. I flexed my knees, clenched my jaw, and let my hands fall away.
    The impact sent streaks of pain shooting through my legs and up along my spine. My right foot twisted under me, and I felt my anklebone snap as I collapsed against the flagstones. They burned my palms. Closing my lips around an agonized moan, I tried to stand and failed. My eyes watered, tears tracking through the grime that covered my face as I slowly pushed myself forward, condemned to slide on my belly like the serpent in Paradise.
    There was nowhere for me to go, but I had to carry on. Perhaps all was not lost—perhaps the invaders would leave me for dead. So long as there was the slimmest chance of survival, I would not yield. And then, instead of heated rock, my hand touched smooth, cool leather. I looked up, and my hopes died.
    “You,” I said, the pain in my leg eclipsed by the agonizing knowledge that I had failed.
    Balthasar Brenner laughed, his wild hair dusted with glowing sparks. “Who else were you expecting, René?”
    “This is madness,” I said hoarsely. “You are declaring war on the vampires. Do you want the world to bathe in blood yet again?”
    Brenner crouched and fisted my hair, baring my throat. I swallowed convulsively. “You know as well as I do that your kind started this war by engineering a plague against us.” His lips drew back from his teeth and he snarled into my face. “The Alliance will be dissolved. Die certain of that.”
    Surprise. Bewilderment. They were sensations I had not felt in over three hundred years. As Balthasar Brenner’s body blurred smoothly into that of a large, white wolf, I knew they would be my last.
     
    I woke to the ominous sound of a stirring beehive. As I blinked my way into consciousness, I realized three things: my throat was throbbing more insistently than it had since I’d been turned, my left arm had fallen asleep, and the beehive was my cell phone vibrating against the coffee table. Alexa. I scooped it up and muttered a hasty hello, but the call had already gone to voicemail. Sebastian.
    I set the phone down and shook the needling sensation out of my left arm, then swung my legs over the side of the couch and stared around my apartment. Twilight filtered through the window. A rerun of some crime show played on the television. I remembered getting home from the lab around six and collapsing into the soft embrace of the couch, silently vowing that I would only close my eyes for a second. So much for that plan.
    The scent of char was still so strong in my nose that I got up to check the kitchen. Nothing burning—I hadn’t used the pots all week. The odor was entirely a product of my crazy dream. It had felt so real—the sharp pain of my cracking ankle, the billowing smoke and panicked dread that had been choking me by turns. No, not me. René. But who was he? The name sounded familiar…
    And then I remembered the annoying, holier-than-thou vampire who had so imperiously given me orders in Helen’s office. He’d mentioned a René . “René Valois,” he had said, “Blood Prime of the Clan of the Missionary, has summoned you to Sybaris.” What a strange and vivid dream to have about someone I’d never met, never seen—someone I’d heard of only once. My pulse was still elevated from my dream-self’s desperation, and thirst flared with every heartbeat.
    To take my mind off the craving, I called Sebastian back. “Sorry I missed you,” I said. “Fell asleep by accident. What’s going on?”
    “I have an address for you. Of the woman with the whip.” I grabbed a pen and a crumpled pizza receipt from the table as he rattled off a street and apartment number in the Bronx.
    “Thanks,” I said, padding into the kitchen. For a long moment, I deliberated