Green-Eyed Demon (Sabina Kane #3)

by Jaye Wells

  “I think I might have an idea,” Zen said. “A few years ago one of my clients had a relative in a coma. Very sad.” She paused to make sympathetic noises. “Anyway, the client asked me to summon a spirit to communicate with the unconscious girl. I was thinking we might be able to use the same idea with the owl.”

  Adam stood up straighter. “You mean have the spirit read Stryx’s mind?”

  She shrugged. “Why not? It’s worth a shot, right?”

  “What exactly would we need to do?” Having no practical knowledge of voodoo, I was worried the ritual might involve goat sacrifice or something.

  Zen chewed her lip. “It’s a bit tricky. We’d need to use the body of a recently deceased person as a medium for the spirit.”

  “And how exactly do you propose we get our hands on one of those?” Adam asked.

  Zen smiled. “I have my ways. It’s gonna have to happen tomorrow night, though, before Halloween.”

  I frowned. “Why not on Halloween?”

  “Because then the portal to the spirit world will be wide open, and things could get unpredictable,” Rhea said.

  Adam looked at me with his eyebrows raised in question. I said, “This ritual doesn’t involve me having to drink any potions or anything, right?”

  Zen frowned and shook her head. “Of course not.”

  Given my past horrors with vomit-inducing potions, I had good reason to ask. But maybe it was a mage thing to make people miserable with potions. Within one week of arriving in New York for magical training, I’d had two embarrassing incidents. The first happened when Rhea’s turncoat assistant, Damara, had tried to poison me with a mixture of strychnine and apple juice. My vampire genes protected me from the poison, and my mixed blood saved me from the forbidden fruit, but nothing prevented me from blowing chunks all over the Hekate Council. The second event happened during a vision-quest Rhea insisted I do to find my magical path. The hallucinogenic tea she’d given me led to a very unpleasant half hour before the freaky Chthonic visions began.

  But Zen’s expression held no hint of guile. And if it meant we’d get Maisie back ASAP, I could deal with a little irritable bowel syndrome again. “Done and done.”

  Zen nodded. “Good. I’ll make preparations. The ritual is best conducted before midnight, so we should head out about ten tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good,” Adam said. “Thanks, Zen.”

  She started to walk away but stopped short. “By the way, are you planning on going by Alodius’s place again anytime soon?”

  I frowned. “Why? Do you need something?”

  She nodded. “Some chicken feet. With Halloween the day after tomorrow, the tourists have been buying charms like crazy. I’d go tonight myself, but the widow Breaux needs me to come undo a hex.”

  Across the store Brooks snorted. “Again? That’s the third time this year.”

  “It’s her own damn fault for stepping out with other women’s men. But her checks always clear, so…”

  “That’s okay, Zen,” Adam said. “We can pick up some chicken feet for you.”

  She smiled at the mage. “Thanks, Adam.” She waved and walked off toward the office.

  I swallowed my opinion of Adam’s ass kissing along with my last swing of coffee. Just as I was setting down my mug, the door to the shop opened.

  “Hey, Mac!” Brooks called.

  “Hey, good lookin’,” she called to the fae before approaching the counter. We all exchanged tense nods. “You guys got a minute?”

  I frowned, wondering what had the werewolf looking so upset. “Sure.”

  Mac looked over her shoulder to where Brooks was dusting some chicken bones. When she glanced back at me she said under her breath, “Alone.”

  “Of course,” I said to her. I called, “Hey, Brooks, we’re going to go out back for a minute. Do you mind if Giguhl stays here?”

  The cat lifted his head sleepily. “Huh?”

  “No problemo,” Brooks said.

  “Go back to sleep, G.”

  The cat licked his lips and yawned before resting his head back on his paws. I held a hand out to Mac to lead the way. As Adam fell into step beside me, he shot me a concerned look. I shrugged. We’d find out soon enough what was on the were’s mind.

  We went out the back door into the courtyard behind Zen’s shop. A small fountain bubbled along the west wall. The festive, but thankfully muted, sounds of Bourbon Street added to the soundtrack.

  Once we were all seated around the table in the center of the courtyard, Mac finally spoke. “I have some news that might interest you.”

  She didn’t mention that the contact was her girlfriend, even though from what I’d seen she clearly was, but I didn’t blame her for not going there. It wasn’t our business.

  Until it was.

  Mac pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. “Not sure if it’s important, but I thought I’d pass it along. My vamp contact told me some bigwig just bought a mansion in the Garden District.”

  “And?” Since I’d been expecting something bigger, I tried to put a leash on my impatience.

  “And several murders have occurred in the area. The police are calling them ‘stabbings,’ but the wounds are all in the neck. So unless someone’s stabbing tourists with grilling forks…” She shrugged. “Plus all the work on this house has been done at night. During the day the place is totally dead and there are blackout curtains on all the windows.”

  “Hmm.” Sounded like a stretch to me—until I glanced at the address. “Wait. Prytania Street?” I shot a meaningful glance at Adam. Back in New York, the mage headquarters in Manhattan was called Prytania Place.

  “Does that mean something to you?” Mac asked.

  “Maybe,” Adam said with a shrug.

  I tucked the address in my jeans pocket. “Thanks, Mac. We’ll head over there in a few.”

  She inclined her head. “I’ll let you know if I find anything else out.”

  “Actually, I was wondering if you might be willing to set up a meeting with your contact.”

  Her eyes went all suspicious. “Why?”

  I leaned forward, trying to ease her sudden tension. “We appreciate your help. It’s just that maybe if I could talk to this friend vampire-to-vampire, I might be able to see if there’s anything she’s overlooked.”

  Mac shook her head. “I don’t think she’d agree to that.”

  “Why not?” Adam asked, his voice quiet.

  Mac’s eyes shifted left. “She doesn’t want any trouble.”

  “Look, Mac, the fact is that if this vampire we’re looking for really is in town—maybe even in this house you told us about—trouble has come to New Orleans. And sooner or later it’s going to find your friend.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  I leaned back and crossed my arms. “Actually, I can guarantee it. Because the vamp we’re after is—” I paused and glanced at Adam. To this point I’d avoided mentioning Lavinia’s name, but obviously the time had come to tell Mac so she could warn her friends. “Her name is Lavinia Kane.”

  Mac blinked in confusion. “And?” So much for my bombshell. I guess it wasn’t surprising, since Mac was a werewolf and not a vamp.

  I decided to put in terms a werewolf could understand. “She’s the Alpha of the entire vampire race.”

  That got Mac’s attention. “Holy shit.”

  “Exactly. Now you know why we hesitated telling you before.” When Mac nodded with her mouth hanging open, I continued. “But now that this happened? Your friends need to be really careful.”

  Adam cut in. “In fact, you should tell your friends not to engage if they see her.”

  Mac’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Lavinia’s one of the oldest vamps alive. Your average vamp won’t stand a chance.”

  Her chin lifted. “But you’re planning on taking her on, right? What makes you so tough?”

  I tried not to react to the challenge in the were’s eyes. “Because I have the best training for
the job and the best reason to want her dead.”

  Mac sucked in a deep breath through her nose and pursed her lips. “Okay. I can’t promise my friends will listen, but I’ll try.”

  “In the meantime, we’ll check out this address. You tell your pals to let us know if they hear anything else, okay?”

  “Maybe you should give me a description of this Domina. Just so they know to avoid her if she shows up.”

  “She’s a little taller than me. Dark, dark red hair—burgundy, I guess. But don’t worry, they’ll know her when they see her.”

  “How?”

  I shrugged. “They’ll have a sudden urge to genuflect before her.”

  “Ah. Okay, I’ll tell them.” She rose to leave, looking a little shell-shocked.

  “I have one more question,” I said, placing a hand on Adam’s arm when he moved to stand, too. “Has anyone you’ve talked to mentioned seeing an out-of-town mage around?”

  Mac frowned and shook her head. “I’m sorry. But since most of the mage residents left a few days ago, a new one would definitely be noticed.”

  Mac saw my expression fall and rushed ahead. “But I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything. I mean, your sister’s bound to turn up soon, right?”

  I sighed. “You’re probably right.”

  Unless Lavinia had already killed her.

  12

  When Zen showed us to the garage behind the shop, I was surprised to see an ancient yellow car waiting for us. Not really sure what car I’d imagined a voodoo priestess might choose, but it certainly wasn’t this.

  “A Gremlin?” I asked, trying to keep the judgment from my tone.

  Zen patted the hood lovingly. “This here’s Saint Expedite.” She chuckled like she’d made a joke. I glanced at Adam, who merely shrugged in return. “Don’t get to do much driving in the city, but when I need to get around this baby gets the job done.”

  After that, she apologized for the cluttered back seat and the heavy scent of dried herbs permeating the interior. “Won’t matter too much, since the front windows won’t roll up anymore.”

  As we’d gotten ready to leave before Zen showed us the car, I insisted Giguhl put on a little something to ward off the chill. The ensuing argument was why we were leaving Zen’s an hour behind schedule. But after Zen’s explanation about the windows, I shot Giguhl an I-told-you-so look. His tail swished, and he turned his back to me. The position gave me a nice view of his hairless ass sticking out from under a black sweater. The view I could have done without, but being right went a long way toward soothing my aching pupils.

  A few minutes later, Zen waved us off merrily and headed out to handle her own business. As we drove out of the French Quarter toward the Garden District, Giguhl perched his little naked paws on the dashboard and looked out the windshield. He ducked and weaved to avoid getting beamed by the chicken foot—used to “kick evil back,” according to Zenobia—hanging from the rearview mirror.

  Our first stop was back at Alodius’s butcher shop. We decided to hit there first and get it out of the way before we checked out Mac’s lead. That way I’d also be able to grab some more blood before potentially rumbling with the vampires in the house on Prytania. Normally I didn’t need it every day, but I guess since the blood wasn’t from a human it wore off faster. I can’t say how much I enjoyed having to drink double the cow’s blood to stay strong.

  The trip down to the Garden District was much faster this time, despite the Gremlin’s questionable transmission. Adam pulled in front of the shop and left the engine sputtering and wheezing.

  I reached for the handle. “Aren’t you coming in? After all, you’re the one who volunteered to get chicken feet for the voodoo lady.”

  “Careful, Red, or I’ll think you’re jealous.” Adam smiled knowingly.

  Giguhl snickered. Ass.

  I looked away. “Whatever.”

  “Anyway, I had my fill of the butcher last night. Why don’t you take Gigi with you for protection?”

  I snorted, which earned me a glare from the cat. “Mock if you will, but I like that nickname better than Mr. Giggles,” he said.

  “I think you just like Brooks better,” I said.

  He drew back. “Now you’re jealous of Brooks, too?”

  I seriously didn’t have enough breath in my body to argue that point. Instead, I shook my head and grabbed his warm and disconcertingly smooth body from the console.

  “You might want to talk to a professional about your emotional IQ,” he taunted as I jogged to the door. I shot him a glare.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  He wrinkled his pink nose. “If you watched Opry you’d know.” For some reason, Giguhl felt he knew the fabulously wealthy talk-show host well enough to give her a nickname.

  I groaned. “Gods, if you’re going to start peer pressuring me to watch that crap, I might have to revoke permission to TV altogether.”

  He hissed. “Bite your tongue! It’s bad enough Zen doesn’t get the Temptation Channel. Don’t take my Opry away, too!”

  I breathed in through my nose as I prayed for patience. On the exhale I reminded myself that Giguhl seemed to take perverse joy in seeing steam come out of my ears. But he was a Mischief demon, after all. On the other hand, I was standing on a busy street arguing with a cat in a black turtleneck. “Perhaps I went too far with that threat. I see that now. But do you think you could refrain from lecturing me about my many and varied personality deficits for five minutes so I can go buy some godsdamned chicken feet?”

  I hadn’t known cat lips could purse before. But Giguhl rocked the martyr mask like a pro. “I suppose.”

  “Good. Now, please remember not to talk in there. Alodius might be okay serving vamps and mages, but I’m pretty sure he’s not prepared to deal with you.”

  The cat muttered something under his breath but settled into my arms like a good kitty. I threw open the door and walked in. This time the Cajun Sausage Fest had a few customers waiting at the counter. I pulled a number from the machine and prepared to wait. From what I could tell, the line consisted of two mortals and a werewolf.

  Alodius chatted with the mortals while he packaged up their order. Ahead of me, the were perked up and looked at me over his shoulder. His shaggy brown hair matched his eyes. As he gave me a once-over, his nostrils flared. Catching my scent, his eyes narrowed.

  My mixed-blood scent—a combo of copper and sandalwood—generally confused other members of the dark races. Half-breeds were exceptionally rare, which made it hard for potential foes to decide whether I was an actual threat or merely a freak of nature.

  I tilted my head in an amiable nod. He hesitated and tipped his chin in my direction. Just like that, the tension evaporated like vapor. He turned back around and tapped his cowboy boot on the linoleum.

  At Alodius’s urging, the humans—Germans, judging from the accents—added a pound of head cheese to their order. Not that I’m in any position to judge others’ eating habits, but the idea of meat jelly made me gag. I mean, the name alone inspires images of things best not contemplated while eating.

  Giguhl, however, licked his chops. As Alodius wrapped up the package, he soliloquized like a freakin’ Cajun Willy Shakespeare about making the damned stuff.

  “First ya brine the head—eyeballs, snoot, and all—with the hocks. Throw a couple tongues in there for some flavor. Once that’s done, boil the shit out of it till the face meat’s falling off…” He said more, but I was too busy trying not to vomit on the werewolf’s boots. I tuned back in time to hear Aldoius declare, “Hoo-eee, that there’s good eatin’.”

  Finally, the Germans exited with the booty. “Y’all come back now.” Alodius waved the humans off and turned to the were. “Sorry for the wait.”

  “Give me two porterhouses,” he all but growled.

  Dollar signs appeared in Alodius’s eyes. “You doing some grilling? We got a great sauce—”

  A low growl came from the were. “Just get the fucking steaks.”


  Alodius nodded and scurried away to fill the request. I repressed a smile at seeing the chatty Cajun shot down. The butcher started wrapping the steaks in paper, only to receive another low rumble from the werewolf. “Don’t bother.”

  He grabbed the meat right off the scale. He lifted the first steak directly to his mouth and chomped into it. Red juice dripped down his forearms, and he grunted like a pig at a trough as he swallowed large chunks whole.

  My mouth fell open. I glanced at Alodius, whose expression was a combination of awe and disgust. Before either of us could figure out how to react, the were licked his fingers clean. That done, he dug into his back pocket for his wallet. He tossed a few bills on the counter.

  “Keep the change.” The were’s magnanimous gesture was ruined by a loud belch. Then, without further comment, he stalked out of the store.

  Alodius cleared his throat. “Well, if that wasn’t the damnedest thing.”

  “I take it that doesn’t happen often,” I said.

  His eyes stayed on the door, as if he expected the wolf in man’s clothing to return any minute. “We get plenty of weres in here, but usually they don’t get that ornery until closer to a full moon.”

  “Maybe his bitch left him,” I said.

  He shot me a quelling look. Obviously the butcher wasn’t too fond of puns. A muffled groan rose from the bundle in my arms. I constricted my arms to let the cat know I didn’t appreciate his opinion.

  “Sooo, you’re back soon. And you brought a friend.” He reached to pet the cat. But Giguhl wasn’t having any of it. He hissed and swiped a paw at the man. Alodius jerked his hand out of harm’s way and shot an accusing glance at me.

  “Sorry about that.” I lifted the cat higher, playing up his indignity for all it was worth. “Apologize to the nice man, Mr. Giggles.” The cat dug his claws into my arm in retaliation. I gritted my teeth and forced a smile at the frowning Cajun.

  Alodius cleared his throat and said, “Anyhoo, y’all want two more pints?”