AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But New Orleans was a city that had a rich history of finding its own path, so no one who knew the city was surprised when we led the way.
“Are there any men here?” I asked as we crossed the foyer to exit into a small passageway that was stone-lined and lit by honest-to-Pete sconces.
Our guide gave a smile that was disturbing on such a young face. “If we have use of them, we send out for them.”
Eli laughed, but all he said was, “As I was summoned, I am glad I chose to bring my fiancé with me tonight, then. I have no desire to be besieged.”
“Youarea fine specimen.” The girl nodded at me, though, not him as she opened another door. This door was average-sized, although there was a salt line across it.
The girl met my gaze. “If you must keep a man, the fae are a good choice.”
Before I could ask what in the name of duck donglesthatmeant, she was gone. Her giggles echoed in the hallway, but Eli and I were alone. A part of me, a surly not-interested-in-bullshit part of me that was typically my largest deciding factor, wanted toflowafter her and demand answers. The less reasonable sort wanted to simply leave.
“Candy apple,” Eli began, his hand already reaching for mine as if he knew that I might bolt. “We are here to meet with Beatrice.”
I sighed. “I know. No beheading the hostess’ staff.”
It pained me to admit, but this was not a new conversation. Sometimes clients for my job—which was typically only beheadingdraugror summoning dead relatives to answer a few lingering questions—were about as charming as angry weasels. My witchy genetics should lend me calm, but I guess that was countered by thedraugrside.
“Is she coming outside or intending to chase after Eleanor?” Beatrice’s voice rang out, sounding amused.
“Geneviève?” Eli prompted.
“I am here.” I stepped out before Eli did so, bracing myself for something wretched. Instead I was met with the only other witch-draugrI’d known of. I didn’t know if she had been borndraugrand witch, or if she’d been made so.
Right now, she was standing beside two feral pigs.
“Son of Stonecroft,” Beatrice said with a moderately deep bow in Eli’s direction. Then she met my gaze. “Youhave been avoiding me, Geneviève.”
I shrugged.
Beatrice looked at the pigs and made a sweeping gesture. I could swear they bowed their heads before leaving.
“Are those regular pigs?” I asked.
“What else would they be?” Beatrice was dressed in the most normal thing I’d seen to date, a simple black linen pantsuit. Her feet were bare. “Do I look like Circe to you?”
“Witch with feral pigs who bow to her? Yeah. A bit,” I admitted.
Beatrice’s expression twitched like she was trying not to laugh. I couldn’t decide if it was a laugh that I wasrightor laugh that I was wrong.
I glanced away. Her courtyard, where we were currently standing, reminded me of my childhood home because of the nature, and for a brief moment, I could swear that I’d met her before this past year. I stared at her. I would’ve known, right? Mama Lauren wouldn’t have . . . I chased that thought away.
“What do you want?”
“To catch a killer,” she said.
“Lydia was—”
“A pawn. I want to know who held her marionette strings.” Beatrice motioned to me. “And why something ofminewas targeted.”
“I am not one of your feral pigs.”
This time she did laugh. “You must realize that there are those who are unhappy with my rise to power, Geneviève. I am awoman.Mostdraugrof any importance are centuries old, and you may not be surprised to hear that the transition was not bestowed on many women. We were food or playthings or servants. Not equals.”
“Okay but . . . what does that have to do with me? Why would being pissed at you mean I get injected?”
She shrugged. “I trust you know that answer.”
