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“Miss Josephine?” The interloper calls. “It’s Antonio. I’ve got your beignets fresh from the fryer.”
“Coming!” the woman answers.
Yeah, well, she was about to.
Water splashes as she gets out of the tub, both of us giving up on her search for release.
I regain my wits and remember the reason I first followed this witch. She is powerful, but I still don’t know much more than that.
Could she pose a threat?
Should I report this back to Sebastian? For a split second—and that’s all I allow before I rein in the impulse—the thought of him or anyone else encroaching on her sends me into a homicidal, throat-ripping frenzy.
I curl my clawed fingers into my palms and breathe deep, retracting my fangs from their current state of fierce and feral. Where the hell did that come from?
I have no idea, but for now, I plan to keep this mystery witch to myself… or blood will spill.
CHAPTER THREE
JOSIE
After a good night’s sleep, I’m refreshed and reinvigorated as I hit the streets. With the sun high in the sky and any vampires locked away for the day, I walk through the city with a newfound confidence. Until I get to Adelaide’s Metaphysical Gift Shoppe in the middle of Tremé and see the closed sign prominently displayed in the window.
Merde.
Anxiety creeps back in, snuffing out my previous confidence. The High Priestess’s email said to meet her here before the ritual.
“State your name and business.”
The voice comes from out of nowhere and sends my heart into overdrive. I scan for the source of the question, but other than the couple walking across the street and a tabby cat splayed out in the sun on the stone retaining wall, I’m alone.
“Hello?”
I don’t sense any nefarious vibes, but I encase myself in a blanket of protective magic, just in case.
“Name?” The voice comes again, cold and indifferent.
This time, I’m able to trace it back to the carved obsidian raven that sits perched on the lamp beside the door. Its beak is open as if in the middle of warbling birdsong, and the feathers etched into the black stone are so lifelike I almost expect it to spread its wings and take flight.
I tilt my head, leaning closer for a better look and finally sense the magic within. A witch’s version of a doorbell camera.
Neat.
“Josie Dumont,” I tell the raven. “I’m meeting Adelaide.”
“Right. Sorry, dear. Time got away from me. I’ll come down to let you in, one moment.”
The energy inside the raven disappears, leaving it a regular old statue—if it’s a regular old statue that looks as if it could come alive and fly away at any moment, flapping its heavy wings and soaring off.
I’m still having a staring contest with the lifelike corvid when the door swings open with a tinkling sound of bells. It startles me so badly I nearly lose my footing on the front steps of the building.
I recover and meet the gaze of the tall woman before me. She is elegant in a pale green dress that brushes the floor and a stylish updo of gray hair so light it appears silver under the radiance of the sun. “Welcome, Josephine. I am Adelaide, the High Priestess of the Sun Witches.”
Towering over me, her presence is more than a little imposing. Sure, I’m standing two steps below her, but it’s more than just her height—it’s her.
Her energy. The power that she holds.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say.
