call you as soon as we know anything.”
She nodded and disappeared back into the house.
Kane joined me in the car and within minutes we were back on the highway headed to the Pointe.
***
“Did we take a wrong turn?” I eyed the rough neighborhood, taking in the decaying homes. One was being overtaken by vegetation, vines invading it from all sides. Rusted bars covered the windows and the porch sagged, appearing moments from collapsing. I would have thought it abandoned if it hadn’t been for the woman standing in the doorway side-eyeing us. She wore gold hot pants, a skin-tight black cami tank top, and black slippers.
We came to a four-way stop behind a late-eighties souped-up Buick low-rider. Kane glanced at the GPS in the dash and shook his head. “No. This road leads us to the Pointe. But maybe we should’ve taken a different route.”
I glanced back at the woman taking a long drag of a cigarette. She pulled a phone from her back pocket and hit a button.
A moment later the front door to the house next to her swung open. A large Hispanic man stepped onto his own decaying porch, wearing jeans and a gun belt, complete with a sidearm. No shoes or shirt. Tattoos covered most of his upper body. Oh, crap. We needed to get the hell out of here. Obviously we’d accidentally wandered into gang territory.
I lowered my gaze and took in the obvious luxury of the Lexus Kane drove. This was not good. Magic tingled in my chest and rushed to my fingertips just in case.
“It’ll be fine,” Kane said. But from the corner of my eye I saw more men pile out of the house, most of them armed. One had some sort of glass pipe he was lighting up.
“Uh, Kane.” My nerves made my voice shake slightly.
“I see them.” He tightened his grip on the wheel and frowned at the Buick in front of us. The car just sat there, a faint trail of smoke streaming from its tailpipe. No other cars in sight.
“They’re waiting to see what we’ll do,” I said.
He took a look in the rearview mirror and swore when he saw a black SUV coming up behind him. “Time to go.” He swerved out from behind the Buick and peeled out.
As we squealed by, the hooded driver raised what appeared to be a gun and aimed.
I flattened my hand to the car window and shouted, “Tego Texi Tectum!”
A round of gunfire sounded through the streets, and bullets rained over the car, bouncing off my protection spell. Holy cripes. That was ugly. And for no reason. We’d just been driving, albeit in a car worth three times more than my annual salary. That wasn’t saying much. I was a glass artist who also worked at a cafe.
I started to tremble as Kane maneuvered the car through the uneven roads. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I did my best to get myself under control. It wasn’t as if I’d never been in a dangerous situation before, but those times had usually involved demons, ghosts, or evil magic. Since I was a newcomer to New Orleans, straight from the quiet state of Idaho, I’d never been threatened by a random stranger before, much less because I just happened to be driving down the wrong street.
A few minutes later, we turned onto a gorgeous tree-lined street flanked by a sign that said, Welcome to Coven Pointe, Est. 1719. The blight and crime had disappeared, replaced by well-kept homes and gardens.
“Whoa,” I said. “I’ve can’t believe we went from a war zone to this.”
Kane nodded. “I haven’t been over here in a long time. Looks like the bad part of town has gotten worse.” His house was in the French Quarter. Just a short ferry ride away, but since he worked on the east bank, he wouldn’t have much reason to come over here. He glanced at me, worry in his deep brown eyes. “You okay?”
“I will be.” I sucked in a breath and willed myself to calm down. “Dealing with evil spirits is one thing. But guns? Yeah, I don’t need that. Tell me there’s a safer way to get back.”
“There has to be.” He placed a hand on my knee
She nodded and disappeared back into the house.
Kane joined me in the car and within minutes we were back on the highway headed to the Pointe.
***
“Did we take a wrong turn?” I eyed the rough neighborhood, taking in the decaying homes. One was being overtaken by vegetation, vines invading it from all sides. Rusted bars covered the windows and the porch sagged, appearing moments from collapsing. I would have thought it abandoned if it hadn’t been for the woman standing in the doorway side-eyeing us. She wore gold hot pants, a skin-tight black cami tank top, and black slippers.
We came to a four-way stop behind a late-eighties souped-up Buick low-rider. Kane glanced at the GPS in the dash and shook his head. “No. This road leads us to the Pointe. But maybe we should’ve taken a different route.”
I glanced back at the woman taking a long drag of a cigarette. She pulled a phone from her back pocket and hit a button.
A moment later the front door to the house next to her swung open. A large Hispanic man stepped onto his own decaying porch, wearing jeans and a gun belt, complete with a sidearm. No shoes or shirt. Tattoos covered most of his upper body. Oh, crap. We needed to get the hell out of here. Obviously we’d accidentally wandered into gang territory.
I lowered my gaze and took in the obvious luxury of the Lexus Kane drove. This was not good. Magic tingled in my chest and rushed to my fingertips just in case.
“It’ll be fine,” Kane said. But from the corner of my eye I saw more men pile out of the house, most of them armed. One had some sort of glass pipe he was lighting up.
“Uh, Kane.” My nerves made my voice shake slightly.
“I see them.” He tightened his grip on the wheel and frowned at the Buick in front of us. The car just sat there, a faint trail of smoke streaming from its tailpipe. No other cars in sight.
“They’re waiting to see what we’ll do,” I said.
He took a look in the rearview mirror and swore when he saw a black SUV coming up behind him. “Time to go.” He swerved out from behind the Buick and peeled out.
As we squealed by, the hooded driver raised what appeared to be a gun and aimed.
I flattened my hand to the car window and shouted, “Tego Texi Tectum!”
A round of gunfire sounded through the streets, and bullets rained over the car, bouncing off my protection spell. Holy cripes. That was ugly. And for no reason. We’d just been driving, albeit in a car worth three times more than my annual salary. That wasn’t saying much. I was a glass artist who also worked at a cafe.
I started to tremble as Kane maneuvered the car through the uneven roads. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I did my best to get myself under control. It wasn’t as if I’d never been in a dangerous situation before, but those times had usually involved demons, ghosts, or evil magic. Since I was a newcomer to New Orleans, straight from the quiet state of Idaho, I’d never been threatened by a random stranger before, much less because I just happened to be driving down the wrong street.
A few minutes later, we turned onto a gorgeous tree-lined street flanked by a sign that said, Welcome to Coven Pointe, Est. 1719. The blight and crime had disappeared, replaced by well-kept homes and gardens.
“Whoa,” I said. “I’ve can’t believe we went from a war zone to this.”
Kane nodded. “I haven’t been over here in a long time. Looks like the bad part of town has gotten worse.” His house was in the French Quarter. Just a short ferry ride away, but since he worked on the east bank, he wouldn’t have much reason to come over here. He glanced at me, worry in his deep brown eyes. “You okay?”
“I will be.” I sucked in a breath and willed myself to calm down. “Dealing with evil spirits is one thing. But guns? Yeah, I don’t need that. Tell me there’s a safer way to get back.”
“There has to be.” He placed a hand on my knee
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