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His hand found my hip. “That depends.”

“Depends on what?” I asked playfully.

Della made her knocking noises again, and he chuckled, as if the sound was amusing. “It depends on what you’re selling.”

My instincts had been right. He knew where to find the kind of witches I was looking for. Running my tongue over my teeth, I said, “A demonic relic.”

Della, who had grown frustrated with my pursuit of this sale, fluttered onto one of the old support beams blackened with soot, and stared judgmentally down at me. Heads turned, and people pointed at the white raven. I ignored all of them.

“Oh, there’s a market for those here in Old Town,” the sailor confirmed. “You can be sure of it.”

Those were the words I most wanted to hear.

“And who buys them?” I pressed. “A name, perhaps?”

He hesitated, as if he knew he shouldn’t be saying more, but I was behind his charm. “A witch by the name of Lou.”

Hundreds of people were named Lou. I wanted a family name, not just a first name. “Lou…who?” I pressed.

His eyes went glassy once again, and a wall of magickal protection slid back into place. The sailor gave me a toothy grin and waggled a finger at me. “Why are we talking about business when there is so much pleasure to be had?”

I suddenly wanted to touch his face. The impulse was so natural, so mine, that I didn’t question it. My finger trailed along his cheekbone. “Maybe you can introduce me to your friend Lou.”

His brows rose, and he captured my wrist, running my thumb over the edge of his lip. “Maybe you’ll have another drink with me first.”

I could kill him where he stood for daring to touch me like that. But before the threat could slip out, I saw my mother’s ghost hovering by the door from the corner of my vision. A cold chill walked down my spine, and I refocused on the sailor. The only thing I wanted more than to sell a relic was to forget.

Her. That night. The screams.

And only one thing silenced the voices.

I did, in fact, have another drink with him. Then another. We danced, we laughed, we drank some more. With each sip, my mother’s ghost blurred into the background until I couldn’t see her any longer.

I meant to ask more about the market for relics, or where this Lou person worked, but the night got away from me. I started singing tavern songs and laughing harder than I’d laughed in months. And soon, I was inviting him up to my room.

When I began unlacing my damp bodice, I didn’t feel the least bit guilty imagining he had just rescued me from drowning in the harbor.

Or that his name was Yves.

Which was easier once I blew out the candle.

I might’ve even said Yves’s name a time or two. If I did, the sailor didn’t seem to mind. He was enjoying making the headboard slam against the wall in time to the song playing downstairs. And I was too drunk to judge myself too harshly for wishing he was a vampire.

Chapter 4

Éplorée

CORA

Sunlight streamed through the open window. I opened one eye, squinting against the glare, to find Della watching me from the sill. She had a crab claw in her beak. My familiar had a habit of collecting things she thought were treasures, but right now, there was only one thing I was keen on: a loaf of bread to soak up the sick feeling in my stomach.

Damn Valemerian whiskey.

“Did you bring us breakfast?” I asked, rubbing my face.

Della gave an indignant squawk and dropped the claw onto the floorboards with a clack.

“I’ll take that as a no.”