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“What are they up to?”
Aiden shakes his head. “Uncertain, sir. They’re booking it through the Quarter and seem to be headed towards Tremé. I left Mason and Gill to track their movements.”
“Keep them in your sights and update me on their location the moment the sun sets.”
The day just got interesting.
“On it, boss.” Aiden rushes off like the well-trained little soldier he is. He’ll make a fine addition to the horde when the time comes… although Naomi will be sad to lose her favorite blood source when he’s turned.
Horace clears his throat from across the room, and when I glance up, his gaze is on me. “Shall I wake Sebastian?”
“No.”
With Bas, it’s better to take care of the problem before letting him know there was a problem to begin with. Especially these days.
“Find Fintan and get a group together. We’ll move out the moment the sun sets.”
If the wolves want a fight, we’ll give it to them.
And then some.
But first… I’m going to finish my breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day, after all. And it seems I’ll need as much energy as I can get for the imminent showdown.
* * *
JOSIE
After double and triple-checking the address on the warlock’s business card, I’m still convinced I’m in the wrong place. I expected a fancy office building with floor to ceiling windows and glass coffee tables so fragile you don’t want to set your cup down, not… this.
The cheery yellow paint and white trim of the squat bungalow are the exact opposite of what a warlock’s abode looks like in my mind. And I have a hard time picturing a warlock sitting on the porch swing, sipping sweet tea as he waves to the passing neighbors.
Walking up the paved path, I take in the lush lawn and the wildflowers dotting the property with playful pops of color. That alone convinces me this isn’t the right place.
Warlocks have what grandmother called a black thumb. They kill everything they touch. Nothing can grow around them, because they are a literal black spot on the planet, sucking the life from everything around them.
If a warlock really lives here, even the trees in the yard would be nothing but rotting stumps. There’s no way I have the right address.
I lift my hand to knock, and the door is thrown open.
I blink, staring at Pikachu. Lifting my gaze from the puffy yellow slippers, I’m met with a pair of vivid blue eyes that widen as the man takes me in.
He stares at me, almost like he recognizes me, but doesn’t say anything.
“Are you Mr. Crane?”
Yep. Still staring.
I’m kind of hoping I mixed up the addresses after all, because I don’t like this man.
His smile is charming enough, but there’s no emotion behind it, or his eyes. There’s nothing there. My grandmother always said warlocks play the part of being human but are something else entirely.
It creeps me the hell out.
“It’s like stepping back in time,” the man says in a hushed voice, a strand of blond hair falling from its perfectly coiffed position as he leans closer.
“Excuse me?”
“You look so much like Claudette. Except for the pink.” He takes a strand of my hair between his fingers.
