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The change threatened. Her teeth itched; so did her skin. She stared at her fingernails, waiting for them to grow. Once she shifted, she would be unable to control herself. She’d listen to the urges within her, urges that were no longer voices but instincts; they would be impossible to ignore. She would kill whoever was the closest, and she would enjoy it.
“No,” she said. “No.”
Everything stilled.
Cassandra knelt on the floor next to her, gaze intent on Alex’s face. “You okay?”
“Saying no actually worked.”
Cassandra shrugged. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Is she clean?” Edward asked.
“She’s right here,” Alex muttered. “And I wasn’t dirty.”
He sniffed. “That is a matter of opinion.”
“She’s cursed.” Cassandra got to her feet. “Just like you wanted.”
“You cursed me?”
Cassandra flushed. “Yes and no. I took away all evil desires—what we refer to as the demon—but not the necessity of shifting under the full moon.”
“Gee, thanks,” Alex muttered.
“You cannot be too different,” Edward said, “or he will know. You must fake the demon somehow.”
She could probably do that.
Alex glanced at Cassandra. “I still don’t understand how this is a curse. More like a blessing.”
“Yes and no,” Cassandra repeated. “Once the demon is removed you remember what you’ve done; you understand how wrong it is. The spell gives those without conscience a conscience.”
“Which, if I’d actually been eating people, would drive me kind of mad.”
“Exactly.” Cassandra dusted off her hands. “Well, my work here is done. Nice to meet you, but I really need to get back to New Orleans.”
She tossed all the voodoo paraphernalia into her backpack and headed for the door. New Orleans was definitely the place for her.
“Use the exit we devised,” Edward said.
Cassandra glanced over her shoulder. “I know better than to waltz out the front.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “Or the back.”
“Go,” Edward ordered, and with a roll of her eyes, Cassandra did.
When she was gone, Alex asked, “What exit?”
“We came in through a hidden connection with the building next door,” Edward said. “We don’t want Barlow to realize you’ve been in contact with me.”
“Does he know I once worked for you?”
Edward shrugged. “If he does, he also knows you don’t anymore. And he’ll have heard that I don’t suffer rogues gladly.”
“How do you suffer them?”
He lifted his brow. “If they step too far out of line, they do not step out again.”
“You kill them?” she asked, not surprised, not really.
