“Four o’clock.”
I grimace.“Ugh. Seven hours. Jesus.”
“How about you come up for air?”
My shoulders sag. We’ve gotten no closer to discovering what killed Mr. James Marsh, why, or if it’ll strike again. “I wish I could. People are dying in this city, and I need to get to the bottom of it.”
“Your nobility is one of your traits I have a love/hate relationship with. I admire your dedication to what you believe in, but I hate how often it takes you away from my side.”
I run my hand over his jaw. “Soon we’ll carve out time for us.” I pull his face to me and share a bittersweet kiss full of greetings and good-bye.
“Where are you headed next?” he asks with a resigned sigh.
“I have a hunch I need to play.”
He studies me carefully. “That’s not an answer.”
“I’m going to contact Halcyon and see if she’ll meet me.”
He tenses. I hold up a finger and swish it back and forth. “Ah. Don’t say it. It’s witch to witch, no vampire politics necessary or wanted.”
He shakes his head. “Would it matter if I told you not to?”
“Right now?” I suck air between my teeth.
“Go. But be safe, and keep your GPS tracking on.” His words are pinched and his jaw clenches and releases rhythmically. He’s probably choking down all the things he wants to say. It takes a lot for him not to plow and smoother me with his good intentions. Slowly, we’re finding our way together.
“Of course.”
“Be safe,” he implores me.
“Always.” I grip the lapels of his suit was I go up on tiptoes to meet his lips. We pull apart breathing hard.
“Soon I’m going to whisk you away.”
“I look forward to it.
***
Two hours later, I pull up in front of an adorable, pale blue, cottage-style home with a Victorian wooden porch. Stained glass windows and handcrafted railings add a classic elegance to the historic property located just outside of New Orleans. Shifting the car into park, I release a low-whistle. Fire engine red crisscrossing lines start from the edge of the curb and follow what must be her property lines. The pulsing crimson slashes emit menace and light up the darkness.
Any witch worth her salt would be
able to see the do not enter sign forged with dark magic. Spells this visible come at a cost or with immense power. Even a human would find what appears to be a quaint home by all other accounts foreboding. My body is tense as I leave my car. A witch who tried to cross into this territory without permission would likely be killed. I am literally placing my life in her hands by trusting her word that she’s allowing me admittance to her home.
Fear hits me as I step from the car. Clutching the handle of my black messenger back tight, I step forward with a confidence I don’t feel. I keep my chin up, back straight, and cross. My skin tingles as the wards accept me. A bark of relieved laughter escapes as I continue toward the porch.
The front door swings open before I can knock. Hal greets me with a bright smile entirely at odds with the dark magic inside of her, slowly working toward gaining a foothold in the battle for control. The off-the-shoulder, ruffled top, pale pink dress goes well with her peaches-and-cream skin and golden blonde hair. Her cerulean gaze is lit with mirth.
“I’m so glad you came out to visit me, Lou.”
“Thank you for having me over. Your home is gorgeous.”
“Come on in, and I’ll show you around before we talk business.” The door closes behind me, and the wards buzz to life. Like an invisible fence, they separate us from the rest of the world.
The abundance of white walls and high-vaulted ceilings broken by splashes of pastel-hued furniture keeps me from feeling cloistered by the invisible partition.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, stunned by the open space despite the small amount of footage. The design is all crisp, clean, and soft. It encompasses a sense of peace.