what it was like, living a life where the worst things you had to deal with were jealous lovers and hurt feelings. It seemed almost paradisiacal from where she stood.
After they finished their iced coffees they hit the Quarter. It was after midnight, and the lower section of Decatur Street, the portion located in the French Market, was starting to wake up. The streets outside the bars were decorated with clots of young people dressed in black leather, sequins, and recycled Seventies rags. The scenesters milled about, flashing their tattoos and bumming cigarettes off one another, as they waited for something to happen.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) Someone called Judd's name and he swerved across the street toward a knot of youths lounging outside a dance bar called Crystal Blue Persuasion. Sonja hesitated before following him.
A young man dressed in a black duster, his shoulder-length hair braided into three pig tails and held in place by Tibetan mala beads carved in the shapes of skulls, moved forward to greet Judd.
Out of habit, Sonja scanned his face for Pretender taint. Human. While the two spoke, she casually examined the rest of the group loitering outside the club. Human. Human.
Human. Hu—
She froze.
The smell of vargr was strong, like the stink of a wet dog. It was radiating from a young man with a shaved forehead like that of an ancient samurai. The hair at the back of his head was extremely long and held in a loose ponytail, making him look like a punk mandarin. He wore a leather jacket whose sleeves looked as if they'd been chewed off at the shoulder, trailing streamers of mangled leather and lining like gristle. He had one arm draped over the shoulder of a little punkette, her face made deathly pale by face powder.
The vargr met Sonja's gaze and held it, grinning his contempt. Without realizing it, her hand closed around her switchblade.
"I'd like you to meet a friend of mine—"
Judd's hand was on her elbow, drawing her attention away from the teenaged werewolf.
Sonja struggled to keep the disorientation from having her focus broken from showing.
"Huh?"
"Sonja, I'd like you to meet Arlo, he's an old buddy of mine..."
Arlo frowned at Sonja as if she'd just emerged from under a rock, but offered his hand in deference to his friend. "Pleased to meet you," he mumbled.
"Yeah. Sure."
Sonja shot a sideways glance at the vargr twelve feet away. He was murmuring something into the punkette's ear. She giggled and nodded her head and the two broke away from the rest of the group, sauntering down the street in the direction of the river. The vargr paused to give Sonja one last look over his shoulder, his grin too wide and his teeth too big, before disappearing into the shadows with his victim.
That's right. Pretend you didn't see it. Pretend you don't know what that grinning hell-hound's going to do with that girl. You can't offend loverboy here by running off to do hand-to-hand combat with a werewolf, can you?
"Shut the fuck up, damn you," she muttered under her breath.
"You say something, Sonja?"
"Just talking to myself."
After leaving Arlo and his friends, they headed farther down into the French Quarter.
As they passed one of the seedy bars that catered to the late-night hardcore alcoholic trade, someone's mind called out Sonja's name.
A black man, his hair plaited into dreadlocks, stepped from the doorway of the Monastery.
He wore a black turtleneck sweater and immaculate designer jeans, a gold peace sign the size of a hood ornament slung around his neck.
"Long time no see, Blue."
"Hello, Mai."
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) The demon Malfeis smiled, exposing teeth that belonged in the mouth of a shark. "No hard feelings, I hope? I didn't want to sell you out like that, girlchick, but I was under orders from Below Stairs."
"We'll talk about it later, Mai..."
The
After they finished their iced coffees they hit the Quarter. It was after midnight, and the lower section of Decatur Street, the portion located in the French Market, was starting to wake up. The streets outside the bars were decorated with clots of young people dressed in black leather, sequins, and recycled Seventies rags. The scenesters milled about, flashing their tattoos and bumming cigarettes off one another, as they waited for something to happen.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) Someone called Judd's name and he swerved across the street toward a knot of youths lounging outside a dance bar called Crystal Blue Persuasion. Sonja hesitated before following him.
A young man dressed in a black duster, his shoulder-length hair braided into three pig tails and held in place by Tibetan mala beads carved in the shapes of skulls, moved forward to greet Judd.
Out of habit, Sonja scanned his face for Pretender taint. Human. While the two spoke, she casually examined the rest of the group loitering outside the club. Human. Human.
Human. Hu—
She froze.
The smell of vargr was strong, like the stink of a wet dog. It was radiating from a young man with a shaved forehead like that of an ancient samurai. The hair at the back of his head was extremely long and held in a loose ponytail, making him look like a punk mandarin. He wore a leather jacket whose sleeves looked as if they'd been chewed off at the shoulder, trailing streamers of mangled leather and lining like gristle. He had one arm draped over the shoulder of a little punkette, her face made deathly pale by face powder.
The vargr met Sonja's gaze and held it, grinning his contempt. Without realizing it, her hand closed around her switchblade.
"I'd like you to meet a friend of mine—"
Judd's hand was on her elbow, drawing her attention away from the teenaged werewolf.
Sonja struggled to keep the disorientation from having her focus broken from showing.
"Huh?"
"Sonja, I'd like you to meet Arlo, he's an old buddy of mine..."
Arlo frowned at Sonja as if she'd just emerged from under a rock, but offered his hand in deference to his friend. "Pleased to meet you," he mumbled.
"Yeah. Sure."
Sonja shot a sideways glance at the vargr twelve feet away. He was murmuring something into the punkette's ear. She giggled and nodded her head and the two broke away from the rest of the group, sauntering down the street in the direction of the river. The vargr paused to give Sonja one last look over his shoulder, his grin too wide and his teeth too big, before disappearing into the shadows with his victim.
That's right. Pretend you didn't see it. Pretend you don't know what that grinning hell-hound's going to do with that girl. You can't offend loverboy here by running off to do hand-to-hand combat with a werewolf, can you?
"Shut the fuck up, damn you," she muttered under her breath.
"You say something, Sonja?"
"Just talking to myself."
After leaving Arlo and his friends, they headed farther down into the French Quarter.
As they passed one of the seedy bars that catered to the late-night hardcore alcoholic trade, someone's mind called out Sonja's name.
A black man, his hair plaited into dreadlocks, stepped from the doorway of the Monastery.
He wore a black turtleneck sweater and immaculate designer jeans, a gold peace sign the size of a hood ornament slung around his neck.
"Long time no see, Blue."
"Hello, Mai."
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com ) The demon Malfeis smiled, exposing teeth that belonged in the mouth of a shark. "No hard feelings, I hope? I didn't want to sell you out like that, girlchick, but I was under orders from Below Stairs."
"We'll talk about it later, Mai..."
The
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