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I slam on the brakes, jerking the little coupe into a spot outside the plain khaki building. Several cars honk their horns. But I pay them no mind. Instead, I grab my purse, containing my car keys, my huge stack of euros, and the gun Iborrowedfrom Hades.
I’m already halfway up the sidewalk, my eyes focused on the busy front door of the pharmacy. My nerves jangle unexpectedly as I reach the door…
But inside, the hustle and bustle of the store is almost calming to me. A cashier rings up a short line of people at the front register. There are orderly rows of shelves, people talking on their phones, an older lady explaining to a young male employee…
Well, my French isn’t that good, but I assume that she’s describing what she’s looking for.
I sigh, my lips pressing into a contented line. Shining shampoo bottles and full-sized posters for cosmetics call my name as I pass by them, looking for where the aspirin might be.
To my right, I see a restroom. Vaguely, I feel the need to relieve myself. So, I stop there first, washing my hands and taking a long time to look at myself in the mirror.
I look stressed and a little tired. Not to mention the fact that now that I’m not behind the wheel of the car, my hand aches quite badly.
Taking my hair down, I spend a minute gathering it into a neat ponytail and pinning it back in place.
I leave the restroom, bumping into a stack of pill bottles left haphazardly on a tray used for restocking items. The top tray begins to tip, and I lean forward, catching it before it crashes to the ground.
Frowning, I grapple with the tray. It’s wide and gray, made of flimsy cardboard. I’m trying to right the tray when I hear a voice.
“She’s on this block somewhere.”
A chill runs through my veins and I freeze. That’s not just any voice.
It’s Constantine’sunmistakable Cajun accent, speaking English.
“Fuck. I don’t see her anywhere,” he says. “I’m telling you; she is wily. We have to catch her unaware, you feel me?”
Oh god.
Ohgod. They are definitely talking about me.
I start shaking, my eyes widening, my pupils dilating. My heart thrums a wild tattoo against my ribcage. My mind flashes to a faraway beach. Maddie’s blood on the coarse brown rocks of the beach, already beginning to wash away as the tide rolls in. Her hand, gone pale against the dark sand, lying sprawled out as if she were trying to reach for me.
“We know she is on this block, monsieur,” a man’s voice answers.
I can only swallow.
“What about the bakery next door?” Constantine suggests. “Persephone's skinny ass never could say no to an almond croissant.”
His accent makes the phrase sound like al-MOND CROIS-sant.
Pushing my fingers against my mouth, I feel ill. Bile hits my tastebuds.
Constantine is the only Cajun I’ve ever dated. Since him, I’ve been completely wigged out by anyone with that specific Southern drawl.
My blood turns to ice. My hands don’t work anymore, so I’m just hovering by a stack of crates, unable to move so much as a muscle.
“Oui, monsieur. I will check personally,” comes a faraway reply. “Don’t worry, we will find her.”
“Be on the lookout for Hades. I showed you his picture, right?” A pause. “I’m not sure where he is. I haven’t been able to track him down.”
I move closer to the doorway, trying to see Constantine. Two men move slowly through the store. The stockier sandy-haired man is a stranger to me, but I glimpse just a fragment of tall, blond Constantine.
He looks the same as ever, stalking down the rows, a permanent sneer on his lips. He cocks his head as he looks around, dissatisfied.
“Watch out for him. He’s apt to put up a real fight if we find him. You’d better hope to hell you see him first and fire a lucky shot off. The motherfucker has the best damned aim I’ve ever seen east of Texas.”
I clench my fists, ducking back into the protection of the hallway, and pray.
