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“Very nice to meet you, young witch.”
I shrug. “Not a witch.”
“Not anything else either, yet you have a witch’s power. Just because you haven’t found your home doesn’t mean it’s not out there.”
Despite the warnings about her, it doesn’t seem like Moira is out to harm me. “Stay safe on the moonlit roads tonight. There are much more malevolent things out tonight than witches.”
“Must be a Tuesday, after all.” I clench my rune-bound hand into a fist and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Good doing business with you. Stay safe.”
I exit through the front of the store, earning a few half-curious glances from patrons and the girls who work the floor and register selling fake shrunken heads and protection spells.
Buses, or rather the people in them, shot my nervousness to the stratosphere, so I walked most of the way to the safe house to meet Thorn. The moon is waning but high in the sky, brightly shining down on the near-empty roads of the residential neighborhood.
Thorn’s car is parked on the road in front of the safe house. It’s the black sedan, not the Porsche. Does this mean business only tonight?
I found the front door unlocked and the wards lowered. I swallowed hard with a second of panic, even with Thorn’s car visible on the street. Then he spoke from the shadow of the dining room. “You have the final artifact?”
“Yup. And I’m glad. This job is getting dangerous.”
“Getting dangerous? I didn’t realize there was bigger danger than drowning for you.”
A wild tension buzzed between us, and I didn’t know what to make of it. The man before me wasn’t fun and games, sexy Thorn. This was serious-as-a-heart-attack Thorn, the Syndicate mob boss that scared Baton Rouge’s paranormal community shitless.
What had I walked into?
“It wasn’t in the bayou.”
“What do you mean?” he said. His voice buzzed like a rattlesnake’s rattle, and I seriously don’t know what stick was up his butt.
“Well, a witch had this one, and they are tricky ladies.”
The lights snapped on, making my eyes water at the sudden brightness. “What are you talking about?”
“It wasn’t where we thought it was. It got sold to someone else.”
Thorn scowled. “Who had it?”
I can’t tell him the proprietor of La Sorcière bought it, can I? I studied the ground as I worked it around in my head. As part of my deal, I can’t tell him Samara gave it to Moira. If I tell him would he confront Samara, blowing the terms of my agreement with Moira? I’m circling an infinity loop here and can’t see a way out. Loopholes. Witches aren’t the only ones who use them.
“Well?” Thorn pressed.
Finally, I lifted my chin. “The proprietor of La Sorcière had it.” I dug it out of my pocket and held out the cotton-wrapped package to him.
He stared at me as if I was a stranger.
“But we’ve got a full set, yay,” I said, managing a fist pump. But at his glare, my voice trailed off weakly.
Thorn blinked. “Are you saying you retrieved it from Moira?”
“I just said so, yes.”
Next thing, he’s pacing again. He hasn’t even looked at the stone yet like he was avoiding it.
“As I said, she obtained it a while back. She didn’t mind when I took it off her hands.”
He stared at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. “Are you afraid of nothing?”
“I’m beginning to think the reputation doesn’t fit the person. She was a perfectly civil grandma-type witch who doesn’t seem nearly as dangerous as everyone makes her out to be.”
