AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ana yanked the door open and stepped out into the crisp air. It was cooler than normal and though barely 6 P.M., very dark. There were no stars to light up the sky, no moon to shed her beams.
Declan moved past her and she watched his tall form slide between the shadows that fell across the path. The flagstones were grossly overgrown with weeds, and for the first time since she’d been home, she felt embarrassed. Her home was an utter wreck.
The sidewalks were empty and the wind whispered against her cheek, bringing with it the voices of the dead.
“You all right?” Ransome stopped beside her, his nostrils flaring as his gaze swept the area in front of them. He heard them, too.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. The dead souls who roamed New Orleans were many, and she often heard their sad lament. Most times she ignored them, easily blocking them out. But tonight they called to the sadness she felt.
“Let’s go.” They both looked up as Declan’s terse voice cut through the gloom.
“I get the feeling there’s unfinished business between the two of you,” Ransome murmured as they started after Declan. “You planning on working that shit out?”
Ana’s gaze fell to the sorcerer and she shook her head. “You’re wrong. We’re fine.”
Ransome smiled down at her, but his eyes remained hard. “If I think either one of you is gonna get my ass burned because you can’t keep it together . . . I’m outta this one. Understood?”
“Don’t worry about it, we’re cool.”
“Yeah, that’s what Anne Boleyn thought, and then she lost her fucking head.”
“Whatever,” Ana muttered under her breath.
They made their way toward Jackson Square in silence. Three bodies sliding through darkened streets that were eerily silent. So not the norm for the Quarter; it was Saturday night, after all.
There was the odd group of tourists and, yes, the weather was ominous, but still, the streets were much emptier than they should be.
“We don’t have a lot of time.” Declan looked down at her, and Ana nodded. He was right. Samael was close.
“You’re sure the wards are going to hold?” She knew the question was redundant but couldn’t help herself.
“They’ll hold,” Declan said softly. “I juiced them up good and strong. The magick that lives here is darker than any I’ve come across, in this realm anyway.” He nodded once more. “They’ll hold. Besides, the wolves will not let anything through. The LaPierre shifters are tough sons of bitches.”
“There’s the shop.” Ransome pointed several feet ahead of them. They’d bypassed the nearly empty Jackson Square and had headed down a side street off the main walkway. Several colorful signs hung overhead proclaiming their wares, whether it was souvenirs, food, clothing, or, as in this case, fortune telling. Balconies lined the upper shops, indicating apartments.
They stopped just in front of Madame TuLeenie’s. The shop was in darkness though the sign on the door still said OPEN. Declan tried the handle but it was locked. Above them a slip of dim light shimmered on the balcony.
“She’s home.” Ransome’s nose quivered as he inhaled a shot of air. “I can smell her.”
Ana shot a look of disgust at the wolf. “That is just wrong.”
“Not really.” Ransome smiled. “She smells like all kinds of right . . . for a necromancer.”
Declan glanced upward. “There must be a fire escape around back. From what I can see the only way up is through the shop.”
Ana moved in front of the men. “You guys find the alternate entrance. I’ll take the balcony.” She didn’t hesitate and ran toward the brick wall, her body a blur of grace and agility as she jumped.
Seconds later she clung to the side of the balcony and grinned down at the boys. “I’ll see you inside.” She then arced her body through the air and landed in a defensive position out of sight.
Ana let her senses adjust and felt the human presence on the other side of the glass. Heavy purple gauze covered most of the window but light escaped from the far side where there was a two-inch gap. She slid along the wall and peeked inside the room.
She could make out the edge of a bed and it was covered with a mess of clothes; tops, jean, undergarments. A pair of boots and a bag lay on the floor.
Francesca was on the move.
A shadow passed and Ana stilled as she saw a curtain of crimson hair and a slender form draped in black. The woman paused and turned to the side, affording Ana a clear view of pale skin and delicate features. She grabbed the boots, tugged them on, and then left once more.
Ana tried the window but it was locked. She glanced over the balcony once more. Declan was nowhere to be seen. Damn but she could use his magic touch right now.
