by Jill Myles
The phone rang.
I leapt forward and jerked it off the hook. “Hello?”
“Jackie?” Noah’s urgent voice was the most beautiful thing I’d heard in days. “Where are you?”
“The French Quarter.” I was so happy, I was ready to break down and cry. I almost did as I sniffled out the name of the street corner I waited on. “Where are you at?”
“I’m coming to get you right now. Don’t move from that corner until I get there.”
The compulsion took a hold of me and I felt my legs lock into place. This time, however, I didn’t mind Noah’s bossiness. “I’ll stay right here,” I promised. “Just come get me.”
Once we hung up, I sat down on the curb next to the phone, waiting. It was damn hot out, the midday sun beating down on me like I was a baked potato in an oven. My clothes smelled and they weren’t exactly cool summertime gear, so I grew nice and sweaty while I waited. Add the humidity of the Louisiana bayou, and it was downright miserable. Jazz music rolled down the street, laughing tourists wandered up and down the French Quarter, and I might have enjoyed myself if I wasn’t so damn hot and thirsty. The coffee shop across the street taunted me as people walked out sipping iced lattes.
But I couldn’t go there; the compulsion from my master wouldn’t let me. I pulled my grubby hunting cap down over my forehead, squinted at the sun, and waited.
I’d been sitting there for what felt like hours (okay, maybe it was a half hour, but it was a long half hour) when a shadow fell over me, blotting out the sun and offering a modicum of relief. “Jackie?”
My heart gave a happy thud. I jumped to my feet and flung my arms around Noah. “You’re here!” I buried my face in his neck and breathed in his scent.
Noah was warm and delicious and so strong. His arms wrapped around me and he pulled me close to him, enveloping me in his embrace.
We stood there for a long moment, and the heat of the day no longer mattered. All the awful, terrible things of the past few days, the curse, Zane’s disappearance—nothing mattered as long as Noah had his arms around me. I slid my arms around his neck and burrowed closer against him. “Thank you.”
Noah chuckled, his breath light against my hair. “No need to thank me. You know I’ll always come through for you.”
I did know that, even if it was a subtle jibe at Zane. I chose to ignore that, wedging my body against his and letting his hair tickle my nose. “It still deserves a thank-you, though.”
He touched my hair, then pulled a small stick out of it and tossed it to the ground. “Why is it that whenever I see you, you’re covered in debris and smell bad?”
Oh, he just had to bring up the fact that he’d run into me after I’d crawled out of a Dumpster, once. I stepped back with a scowl, though I kept my hands on the soft knit of his shirt. He was not going out of my sight. “Never tell a lady she stinks.”
Noah touched my nose and smiled. “When I meet a lady, I’ll remember that.” Before I could protest that, he eyed me with surprise. “So should I ask why you’re in hunting gear?”
I thought of the trucker, and Luc, and all the other awful things that had happened in the past few days, and shuddered. “Probably not.”
“I see.” His hand slipped around my waist, supporting me. Noah wouldn’t pry. “But perhaps you’d like a shower before meeting Delilah?”
“No,” I said grimly. “No more delays. I want this curse gone before I lose my mind.”
He eyed my clothing and chuckled. “She might think you already have.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I expected Delilah to have the most outrageous mansion in New Orleans. After all, Remy was only a few hundred years old and she had a palatial house that screamed money. So I was surprised when our cab pulled into the Garden district and stopped in front of a pale pink gingerbread house with a white wraparound porch and overgrown trees. It looked old and mysterious, like New Orleans itself.
Frowning, I turned to Noah. “This is Delilah’s house?”
He gave me a puzzled look, sliding his hand from my shoulders to pay the cab driver. “Yes. Is there a problem?”
I eyed the old mansion. “It’s so . . . normal.” Subdued. Quiet.
“Not everyone has the same tastes as Remy.” He slid out of the cab and offered his hand to me to help me out.
True enough. I mean, if the world was full of flighty, porn-star succubi . . . I slipped my hand into his and let him help me from the car.
I waited on the sidewalk as he shut the door and then put his hand around my waist again. I was surprised at the possessive move—Noah wasn’t a big one for public displays of affection, but I welcomed it. It was nice to know that he wanted me close to him, smelly hunting gear or no. I hoped I wasn’t too out of place at Delilah’s pretty, antique house. Noah was dressed in a short-sleeved, buttoned-up shirt with the collar open. No tie or jacket, so that was a good sign.
Noah led me up the flagstone walkway, and we paused on the porch and rang the doorbell.
Nothing.
I glanced around at the house, trying not to worry. There were potted plants scattered all over the veranda, and a rag rug. A cat lazed in a wicker rocking chair, enjoying the heat.
I flicked a look over at Noah. “Are you sure we’re at the right spot?”
If Martha Stewart came to the door, I wouldn’t be surprised one bit. But a voodoo priestess succubus? Come on.
Noah simply gave me a faint smile and glanced at the door, waiting. He seemed pretty sure that someone would come to it soon.
Me, I wasn’t so sure. I stuck my finger on the doorbell and let it ring again. Then one more time, just to make sure they heard it.
He swatted my hand away. “Jackie, stop it.”
“We’re kind of in a hurry, Noah,” I said peevishly. “The least she can do is answer the door.” Didn’t anyone around here have the same sense of urgency I did? Didn’t anyone care about the seriousness of my curse? I went to put my finger on the doorbell again . . . and couldn’t. Noah’s last words had been a command.
The door to the old house opened and a girl came to the door, her butter-blond hair in coiling ringlets that bounced on her shoulders. She wore a puffy white blouse and a pleated pink skirt. She looked about eighteen if she was a day, and plucked iPod earbuds out of her ears as she glared in my direction. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah. Is your mom home?”
Noah made a strangled noise, and the girl gave me a cold, withering look that could have frozen Bermuda.
A few things clicked into place. Aw, hell. “You’re Delilah, aren’t you?”
She smirked, flouncing her hair with practiced precision. “Of course.”
I could tell this was going to go real well. I pasted a big fake smile on my face. “Hi there. I’m Jackie.”
“I know who you are,” she said loftily, eyeing me with distaste in my hunting gear. “Noah’s told me all about you.” She glanced over at him and smiled again, a coy look with a possessive edge that I did not like at all.
I stepped a little closer to Noah and put my hand around his waist. Must not lose temper. I need Delilah’s help. “That’s great that you know Noah,” I said in my chirpiest voice, glad that my curse didn’t involve the inability to lie. “Did he tell you about my problem?”
“Yeah. He mentioned that you have the supernatural equivalent of an STD. Way to go.”
I could feel my face grow hot and my entire body tensed. If she said one more thing in that bratty voice, I was going to lose it.
“Jackie, don’t,” Noah said, as if sensing my anger. “We need Delilah’s help.”
I turned to glare at Noah. Another damn command. “Can you quit it with all the master bullshit? It’s really getting tiresome.”
Delilah’s expression changed from smug loftiness to confusion. “Noah, you’re her master?”
Noah ruffled his blond hair and gave her a sheepish look, the color rising on his face. “It’s not what it seems.”
Not
what it seemed? Exactly what did he mean by that? That we weren’t lovers? Master and succubus? My fake smile masked my hurt. “He just likes to dominate me in front of others,” I offered, linking my arm in his again. “Part of a little sex game we like to play.”
Delilah’s jaw dropped as she looked back to Noah.
I thought Noah was going to swallow his tongue.
“Enough, Jackie.” He turned back to Delilah, a faint flush on his face. “It’s not what it seems,” he repeated.
“No, I would guess not,” Delilah snapped, and a flicker of jealousy crossed her face as she looked over at me. “Come in, then, the both of you.”
Interesting that Delilah wanted Noah and was jealous of my relationship with him. All succubi were sired by a Serim. Was it bothering her that Noah and I had a strong connection? My hand firmly planted around his waist, we followed her into the house.
Inside, the Southern mansion motif continued. A large, sweeping white staircase took up the most of the foyer, and antique furniture graced the rest of the room. Flowers bloomed on a nearby table, and a blond male servant dressed in a suit moved down the hall, a feather duster in hand.
Between Remy’s maid, Ethel, and now Delilah, it seemed like no supernatural cared to do their own housework.
“Nice place,” I murmured. Too bad it didn’t look like it belonged to her. I’d been expecting something a little more . . . scary. Voodoo-ish. Not Southern genteel.
“Thanks,” she said, the malice gone from her voice and a hint of pride returned. “It’s been mine for the past century and a half.”
Delilah led us into a sitting room. I sat on the edge of an old-fashioned sofa with a circular back and little wooden legs. Noah sat next to me and put his hand on my knee, conveying our relationship to Delilah. She noticed but said nothing, perching delicately on the edge of a velvet settee across from us. “So tell me what brings you for a visit, Noah? It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.” There was a definite purr to her voice, one that made my hackles rise.
“Jackie needs your help, Delilah. She has reason to think that she’s been cursed, and we need your help to lift it.” Noah’s voice was even and smooth. He explained my symptoms and Remy’s mention of Victoria and what had happened to her.
Delilah sat quietly, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap. I was pretty sure she knew the entire story already, but she listened to him attentively, her eyes roaming over him in a possessive way that I definitely did not care for.
When he paused, she raised her hand and gestured. The blond male servant came forward with a tray of lemonade in a sweating glass pitcher, and placed it on the coffee table between us. Delilah said nothing until she was handed her drink, and sipped it in a ladylike fashion.
The servant offered us lemonade as well, and I took a glass, holding it but not drinking. Noah declined.
Delilah swirled the lemonade in her glass a while, and silence fell in the room. She eventually glanced over at me, tilting her head slightly. “It does sound like the same curse that felled Victoria.” Her pretty, round face was emotionless, her gray eyes cold. “Which I find interesting in itself, as it is a very specific curse. A curse upon your curse, if you will. A double-curse can be administered only by the most powerful of creatures.” She sipped her lemonade again. “There is something you are not telling me, then. Who is your enemy?”
“My enemy?” I swallowed. “Um, well, I know I’m on Uriel’s shit list right now.”
Delilah’s lips twitched. Whether she was going to smile or frown again, it was hard to say. “Everyone on earth is on Uriel’s bad side. But I am positive that it wasn’t him.”
“I don’t know.” I mean, she hadn’t seen how pissed he was about the whole Joachim-halo thing. But Delilah was the expert. If she said it wasn’t Uriel, then it wasn’t Uriel. “There’s the vampire queen, but I haven’t seen her in weeks.” Thank goodness.
Delilah inclined her head in a nod. “Perhaps a minion of hers, then?”
“Zane,” Noah growled beside me.
“No,” I protested, startled. “Zane wouldn’t hurt me. I know he wouldn’t. Besides, the vampire queen kicked him out, remember?” I frowned at Noah. “Don’t blame this on him, just because he’s not here.”
“Zane . . . as in, the vampire?” Delilah said mildly, arching an eyebrow at the two of us.
“Her vampire master,” Noah agreed in a cold voice. “She has a blind loyalty to him that I don’t understand.”
I smacked Noah on the arm. “It’s not blind faith.”
He drew back and nodded crisply. Noah’s expression didn’t change, but I knew my words had hurt him.
“I don’t think he did it,” I said softly, trying to soothe him. “Zane was horrified when he found out I was cursed.”
Delilah inclined her head again, like a queen receiving court. “Anyone else?”
Luc’s slender, haunting beauty flashed through my mind. As oddly compelling (and alternately creepy) as I found the guy, I’d met him only after I’d been cursed. I was strangely reluctant to bring him up in front of Noah, too. He’d been so possessive and worried about me lately. To mention that I’d nearly had sex with another guy—a total stranger, to boot—would hurt him. “I’ve seen one guy a few places, but I don’t think it’s him. I only met him after I was cursed.” I downplayed it deliberately, watching Noah’s face tense at the mention of Luc. “I’d say it was him, except for the fact that I haven’t done anything with him. Or to him.” Much.
A hint of annoyance flashed across Delilah’s face. “You are not giving me much to work with, I am afraid. No strange gifts? No charms left where you might find them?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s like I’ve been cursed out of the blue.”
“No one is ever just cursed out of the blue,” Delilah said with a lofty smile. “A hoodoo curse involves a lot of power and effort. Someone did this to you, and deliberately. You must have pissed them off royally.”
That sounded like something I would do. “Hoodoo?”
“Magic.” Delilah stood slowly, placing her glass of lemonade on the nearby table. “I must pray to the loas and ask them for their assistance on this matter.”
My brow wrinkled. “Pray to the what?” If that was some term for angel or demon, count me out. I tensed just thinking about it.
“They are the spiritual advisors of those that practice voodoo.” She seemed irritated by my questions. “I will ask them for their advice about your situation. You must give me complete, uninterrupted silence for the next few hours as I go to pray.”
Right. To the voodoo hoodoo gods. Or loas. Or whatever.
“We’ll leave the house,” Noah assured her, a faint smile creasing his face. He stood up and touched her shoulder in a soft gesture that made my blood boil with jealousy. “Thank you so much for your help, Delilah.”
“But of course. And I insist that you both stay with me instead of at a hotel,” Delilah said, graciously as she gazed up at Noah with what could only be called adoration. “My house is always open for friends.”
“We’d appreciate that,” Noah said, squeezing her shoulder before dropping his hand. “Same room as always?”
“Same as always,” Delilah agreed, casting a smug little look over at me.
Obviously, Noah had stayed here before. I clenched my fingernails into my hands, reminding myself that he was with me now. “Before we leave, can I take a shower or borrow a change of clothes?” Because lordy, I smelled bad.
Delilah’s mouth curved into a smile. “Of course.” She gestured at the sweep of stairs. “You may have the guest room,” she stated, obviously not wanting me staying with Noah. “There is a shower in your room, and some clothing. Please help yourself.”
“Come, Jackie,” Noah said, taking my hand. “I’ll show you where the rooms are.”
I glanced back at Delilah as he led me out of the room. She was watching us leave hand in hand, a frown marring her pretty face.
She did
n’t like that Noah was with me. Not at all.
Despite the fact that Delilah had put us in separate rooms a good distance apart (the point of which was not lost on me), I wasn’t displeased with the quarters. The old-fashioned bed in my room was large and lush, and the closet was full of normal clothing, skirts and feminine, flowing blouses like the one she wore. None of them were her size, which made me wonder.
There was also a mirror on the ceiling, which made me wonder as well—for all of two minutes. This was the house of a succubus, after all. Even if she looked like an angelic high schooler, Delilah needed to have the same amount of sex I did.
Well, the same amount of sex before I’d been cursed, that is.
I picked up the landline phone on the edge of the bed and called Remy’s cell. No response—it went automatically to voicemail. Maybe she was still in jail. Worry niggled, but I pushed it aside. Clean shower and clothing came first.
I rummaged through the dresser and closet. I found some panties that fit, a bra that was a cup too small but would still work, and a light, lemony chiffon blouse and matching skirt that would be nice and cool in the humidity. Now to shower. I headed down the hall.
To my deep happiness, Delilah did not skimp on the expensive soaps and shampoos, and within moments, I stripped and had climbed into the claw-footed tub. The showerhead was a few inches too short for my height, but I didn’t care. The hot water felt delicious over my skin and I let out a groan of delight, closing my eyes and letting it run over my head.
“Room for two in there?” A hand touched my waist.
I screamed.
Noah clapped a hand over my mouth. “Shhh,” he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice.
I was glad he found this funny, because it had scared the heck out of me. And now I had water in my eyes. I blinked rapidly and slapped him on the shoulder, my hand lingering when I noticed that he was naked and rather warm. Mmmm, nice. That took a lot of steam out of my anger. “You scared the hell out of me.” The words sounded more like a caress than a rebuke.
Noah noticed that, too. He smiled at me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His mouth brushed mine for a whisper-soft kiss. “I thought . . . we might . . . have time . . . for a quick . . . kiss or two,” he said between nips at my mouth. “We can take care of the curse before we have to leave for a few hours.”
