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I had been walking with my head down and looked up to find that I had missed my turn. I turned in a slow circle, taking in my surroundings, then put the phone on speaker so I could check my navigation app. When I saw where I had gone wrong, I backtracked a bit and turned, only to run right into someone. I dropped my phone in the melee and stiffened a bit when large hands grabbed my elbows to steady me.
I looked up into a face made for sin. Skin a couple of shades darker than mine with eyes the astounding shade of ocean water—had to be contacts—and a full head of dark, silky curls. The man had wireless earbuds in, the same color as the button-down shirt he wore, a brilliant white to match the crooked smile he now flashed me. He held up a finger to tell me to wait a minute, and said, “I’m sorry, I literally just ran into someone, give me a minute.”
A declaration I heard in stereo surround sound, coming not only from his sensuous lips, but also from my phone on the sidewalk in front of us.
Chapter 3
Dev
Shock rippled through me. I gently squeezed the woman’s surprisingly well-muscled arm and then squatted down to pick up the phone, handing it to her with a half-shrug. “Seems we’re meeting sooner than anticipated. Ms. Arbor, I presume?”
As she accepted the device and tapped the red circle to end the call, she shook her head in an only-me fashion and grinned, an expression that felt as if the sun had finally come out on a particularly stormy day—in part because I knew she didn’t smile all that often. My skin tingled with that indisputable knowledge. First impressions were interesting for someone like me, a Houngan—a Vodou priest of reasonable power—a descendant of a line of incredibly powerful practitioners of both Haitian Vodou and New Orleans Voodoo. I knew more than most, and sometimes way more than I wanted to.
“And you must be Dev. Call me Hanlen, everybody does, even my clients, unless they’re calling me things not fit for pleasant company.” She laughed a bit and then straightened her light jacket before running her hands down her jeans. A nervous gesture. Sure, we’d hit reasonably hard, but nothing too terrible. The only casualty in the whole mess was her phone, which I noticed now had a tiny crack in the upper right corner. Honestly, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the collision.
The woman was stunning. Her long, dark hair was pulled back from her face in a tail, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones and her full lips set in skin the color of beige silk. She had a narrow face with eyes the color of molten amber. Beneath the layers of her clothing, I’d felt her strength in the bare few moments I’d held her to steady her, and I wondered what the rest of her looked like. I mentally shook my head.
“Are you okay?” I asked, looking for any sign that she wasn’t, both what the average person could see and what they couldn’t.
She tucked a stray piece of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear and licked her lips. I couldn’t help but zero in on the movement, and being well, aguy, I couldn’t stop the images my mind conjured in response.Merde, what was wrong with me? I noticed a slight shiver in her body and barely stopped myself from cocking a brow. Interesting.
She still hadn’t answered me, so I asked again, “Hanlen, are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
She started shaking her head before I had even finished the sentence. “No, no. I’m fine. Sorry. It’s been a long day, even though it’s barely late afternoon. And I haven’t eaten yet today. Maybe my blood sugar’s low or something.”
I didn’t think low blood sugar was the problem at all. I tried not to pay attention to the apparition that passed behind her. Hanlen Arbor was obviously a natural sensitive if nothing else, though I didn’t think she actually knew that. Most quote-unquotenormalpeople didn’t. They chalked up those strange feelings and times of spot-on intuition as nothing more than coincidence. I, however, knew better—boy, did I ever.
I watched as she tucked her phone into her purse and looked around before focusing once again on me. “Do you happen to know where Goodies Fine Wine and Spirits is? I was on my way there when I called you.”
I pointed down the street. “You almost made it before I took you out.” I smiled. “John Goode is actually a friend. I can walk you there if you’d like.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll be fin—”
“I know you’d likely be fine, but I insist. It’s the least I can do after literally running you over. And speaking of taking you out, if you’re up for it, I’d love to buy you dinner. My way of apologizing. Plus, I still need to chat with you about some preliminary things regarding Arborwood and the connected cemetery. And it could help that low blood sugar.” I resisted the urge to smirk.
She looked pensive for about half a heartbeat, so I decided to sweeten the pot. “Dooky Chase,” I said in a singsong. Dooky Chase’s was the absolute best for a good home-cooked Creole meal. Nobody turned down a chance to go. At least, I hoped that would be the case here.
Her eyes widened a fraction and then she said, “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Glapion. Nobody in their right mind would say no to Edgar Chase’s gumbo.”
“Damn straight.” I motioned to the sidewalk with a flourish, extending my arm out in front of me. “After you.”
Chapter 4
Hanlen
Somehow, I had two half-pints of whiskey—one honey, one apple, neither of which I had paid for thanks to Dev’s good friend John Goode—in a bag under my chair and was now seated at a table with one of the most captivating men I had ever met. Everything about him was simply . . . electric. From his voice to his looks to the compassion and care he fairly exuded from his pores. The problem was, I knew what he did, and I couldn’t help the mental scoff—or even worse, a verbal one—every time I thought about it.
Yet, I had to try. Dev and I would be working together in some fashion for the next week, at least. If not longer. I didn’t know how much they’d actually need me, but Mom had told me to make sure I was at least somewhat available, which led me to believe that there would be interaction.
“So, I take it you like whiskey,” Dev said as he set down the drink menu.
“I do. Probably a little too much,” I said, suddenly feeling a bit insecure.Where did that come from?I didn’t give a shit what other people thought of me. I never had. At least not since Reagan. Why was I feeling embarrassed about my earlier procurement or the fact that I did, indeed, enjoy my whiskey? Who the hell cared?
Dev broke me out of my thoughts. “May I make a drink suggestion? Having lived here, you may have tried it, but depending on when you left our fair city, maybe you haven’t.”
Intrigued, I cocked an eyebrow and offered Dev ago-aheadgesture.
“Sazerac. It’s rye, bitters, sugar, and herbsaint.” He opened the main menu and set it in front of him, letting me think over the suggestion.
