ISADORA
The next few days passed in a flurry of paperwork, paint swatches, and protective older brothers.
Renovation prep had consumed almost every waking hour. Thorne and I spent our days ankle-deep in permits, elbow-deep in designs, and drowning in bureaucratic nonsense. We’d composed no less than three different proposals to pitch to the Eternity Falls town council, which, according to Thorne, would be our greatest challenge yet. She described them as a pack of savage, pencil-pushing wolves—an ironic metaphor, considering she shared blood and a surname with at least two of them.
The only break we’d allowed ourselves was when Thorne took me shopping, insisting we replace my wardrobe. She’d insisted on paying, because apparently, she was tired of smelling my vampire funk. I’d laughed and accepted her offer for the exact same reason.
Still, amidst the chaos, I’d begun to develop a rhythm. My new normal, as it were. After several long nights of furniture rearrangements and endless scrubbing (thank goodness for vampiric strength and endurance), the place had begun to feel less like a haunted ruin and more alive. Or at least less dead.
My ghostly roommates had even begun to help us out. Almost as though they’d accepted their new fate. In brief, energy-consuming bursts, they’d swept up broken glass, righted overturned chairs—which was hilarious to watch, especially when they grunted like spectral weightlifters—and even wiped down the bar a few times.
Bernard, bless him, had finally ventured out of the chandelier. He’d taken a particular liking to rearranging our paperwork pile whenever we’d left the bar unattended. I’d even managed to catch one or two glimpses of him, usually when he was distracted and sorting through the papers.
Thorne had growled at him once and sent him skittering back into the chandelier, but she’d quickly retracted that growl and apologized profusely when she’d deemed his organization skills superior. Now she left the piles to him while slyly referring to him as our “unpaid, posthumous assistant.” A part of me wondered if he’d been an accountant in his previous life. Or a Virgo.
Meanwhile, Rue and the Wolfe brothers had reached a mutual understanding regarding security. They’d established a rotating watch, with someone always keeping an eye on the bar. And me. Lucien had stipulated that last part in a tone that had brooked no argument, delivered in his usual iron-fisted tone.
The brothers hadn’t taken kindly to a St. Germain bossing them around, but after cracking a few knuckles and muttering a few choice words, they’d agreed that protecting me—and their sister’s investment—was a shared priority.
Afterward, they’d gone about intimidating every poor soul who’d dared come within fifty feet of the building. Apparently, muscle-flexing, scowling, and looming menacingly at pedestrians was their love language.
I eventually had to ask them to tone it down—nicely, of course, with promises of treats and booze if they complied. We had contractors to meet, with our first slotted to arrive within the hour. We couldn’t have every vendor fleeing in terror at the sight of three monstrously large werewolves and…whatever Rue was. I still wasn’t clear on her. But sometimes she glowed. A lot. And glared even more.
Our first contractor arrived at noon. The bar door swung open, letting in a gust of warm air and a man clad in a slate-gray three-piece suit. Eyes that resembled amber chips turned to us, and he smiled, his entire face transforming into something friendly.
“Ladies,” he greeted politely in a voice smoother than aged blood-scotch. “Thorne. Always a pleasure.”
“Zayd,” Thorne said with a dazzling smile. She slid off her barstool and strode over, taking his hand in hers and leading him inside.
According to Thorne, Zayd was a djinn—something I’d never encountered before, not even in New Orleans. Thorne assured me that was normal, as they were a reclusive breed. But one that specialized in supernatural compliance, spatial warding, and could see interdimensionally. Basically, he was here to ensure we didn’t accidentally trip a ley line or awaken anything slumbering beneath the foundation that needed to stay asleep. Or dead. Standard renovation stuff, she’d said. Seeing as how I’d never given either of those the slightest thought, I was once again grateful for Thorne’s involvement.
Zayd turned to me next. “And you must be Miss Laurent.”
I nodded and offered him my hand, which he happily took. The moment our palms touched, a pulse of something hot and magical surged between us, and I instinctively jerked my hand away. It wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but I hadn’t enjoyed it either. It was nothing like the jolt I felt when I touched Lucien.
“My apologies,” he said quickly, bowing his head. “Touch grants me a read of one’s energy and their desires. I use this to gauge their intent and trustworthiness.”
“None taken,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how I felt about his gauging my desires. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“Most don’t,” he said with a knowing smile. “But I find in my business, partnerships are less regrettable when one knows what motivates the other party.”
True. But deeply unsettling that he knew that much about me now.
He turned back to Thorne. “Now, then. I’ve reviewed your proposal. There are six points of magical concern we’ll need to address before you can proceed with these permits.”
Thorne groaned. “Six? Seriously? That seems excessive.”
“We mustn’t rush the process,” he said smoothly, unclasping his briefcase on the bar and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “Especially not when spatial stability and spectral cooperation are on the line.”
“Well, maybe we could rush it just a little,” she muttered, thumbing through the documents with an aggrieved sigh. Then she stopped and leaned closer. “A ley line convergence? Seriously?”
Zayd hummed his agreement. “Indeed. Located at the back of the bar. It’s weak, but there, nonetheless. I presume the two of you would prefer you not open an interdimensional rift during cocktails?”
I blanched. “No, certainly not.”
“Very well. Then we must take the appropriate steps to ensure we leave it undisturbed.”
Yes, that sounded like a very good idea.
