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“I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to know you are living with one of the resident island witches. Though if you hear anyone call me a crone, do smack the taste out of their mouth. I’ll be dead before I am a crone.” Victoria cackled a little, and Lark had to smile. “I told you because you carry a secret that seems to be consuming you whole. And I wanted you to know that you are not alone. Secrets are like daggers. It’s much more expedient to carry them in your hand instead of in your back, songbird. Not to mention they’re easier to get rid of that way, once you finally decide you’ve held on to them long enough.”
Victoria got up, her knees creaking loudly in the quiet of the small house. Lark turned back to the book, the postcard she’d been using as a bookmark falling out of it down to the soft, worn carpet under her socked feet.
“While Lark Thibodeaux might not exist on paper, songbird, I don’t doubt she is as real as I am. And that she can still smell the bayou when she closes her eyes. When you’re ready to talk about it, all of it, or parts of it, including the person you’re running from, I’ll be here.”
Lark did not watch Victoria leave, but she bent down and picked the postcard up, the lights of the French Quarter blinking at her from the faded paper.
9
SEREN, PANNA COTTA & FAMILY GHOSTS
“How come he still has no name?”
Seren did not need to turn to know that Deryn was now sprawled on the floor by the fireplace, teasing the kitten into a frenzy. The white menace with deep blue eyes growled and swatted at Deryn’s hands. Seren wisely kept her counsel about her sister getting scratched in one… two…
“Ouch, dammit!” Deryn yelped, and Seren laughed. “Hey, you could’ve warned me, you know!”
“It’s a cat, Deryn. It scratches. What did you expect it to do?”
Deryn nursed her injured fingers and pouted.
“Sooty doesn’t do this.”
Seren turned back, eyebrow raised.
“I highly doubt your cat, from the same litter as mine, doesn’t scratch.”
Deryn pouted some more.
“I wouldn’t know, I’m not allowed to tease her like this. Paloma is very particular about that cat.”
Seren barked out a peal of laughter.
“Whipped, my baby sister. That is what you are.”
Deryn sat back on her haunches and just smiled.
“You know I don’t mind that as much as I thought I would. Have you seen my woman?”
“Jesus, Der, ‘my woman’? Did you crawl out of a cave or something?”
Seren set the kettle to boil before giving her sister her full attention. She had to admit, her twin looked good. Better than good. Deryn looked loved and in love. It was kind of disconcerting as well as endearing.
“No cave, a luxury resort penthouse. And sometimes, I actually cannot walk, so crawling is entirely appropriate. I repeat my earlier question. Have you seen my woman? I might not go down in history, but I sure as hell go down on—” Deryn laughed at Seren’s horrified expression.
“Absolutely the fuck not, you asshat! I do not want to know about you and the mayor! I am on the damn Chamber of Commerce Board, I have to sit through the meetings she chairs! Dammit!”
Deryn’s eyes were sly.
“Chamber of Commerce Board, huh? Look at you, Rennie Crowhart, all grown up.”
Seren narrowed her eyes.
“We’re the same age, you absolute menace. What are you even saying?”
Deryn poked the kitten again, making him hiss and swat at her outstretched hand.
“Not saying anything, you big island business owner and upstanding citizen, Seren Crowhart.”
