“Fuck him. He is such a chauvinist. He wants women to bow down to him like he’s some sort of god.” Lucia waves a dismissive hand. “Now tell me what happened with Dominic going down on you in the limo.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not that serious. We were drunk. All we did was make out and then he ate me out.”
Lucia squeals. “That glow on your face this morning said otherwise.”
“Well, he didn’t remember any of it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he didn’t bring it up at all today during our investigation.”
“Maybe he didn’t know how to. After all, you two did end on bad terms.” Lucia walks around the box and stares at it.
“It doesn’t matter. He revealed to me today that the reason he went into law enforcement was to avenge his cousin who got killed by the mob,” I admit.
Lucia snaps to attention. “Our family?”
“No, another family, I guess, he didn’t say who.” I glance at the top of the crate. “There’s no note…” I rest my chin against my palm. “Matteo, grab me a crowbar please.”
“Maybe you two should talk about it?” Lucia offers.
I snort. “I thought you hated Dominic and wanted to kill him?”
“I only hate him because he hurt you. If he makes amends and you’re happy then I’ll be okay.”
“Here you go.” Matteo comes running around the space and places the crowbar into my hands.
I guide the end into the lip on the crate, locking it in place. Then I press down with all my might. I swallow the pain from my injury. The lid cracks open along with the sound of wood splintering.
The three of us peer into the box.
“What the fuck!” Matteo cries.
I’m speechless.
The box is filled from bottom to top with raven feathers. Long, sleek plumes rest next to one another piled high like snow. Tightly layered barbs carry a subtle sheen, reflecting hints ofblue, purple, and green in the warehouse lighting. The edges taper to a fine point.
“I was wondering why the box felt so light when I moved it,” Matteo mutters.
On top of the feathers is a piece of paper. Bending over I pick it up.
It’s typed.
How convenient.
As the three of us read the note in silence, I realize it’s an excerpt from a poem.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
