Shadows of Bourbon Street by Deanna Chase Page A

and, still staring straight ahead, said, “Thank God for you, Jade. That was an impressive bit of magic you used back there.”
    I covered his hand with mine. “Great driving, too.”
    His lips turned up into a ghost of a smile. “Thanks. But let’s not do that again.”
    “Deal.”
    A few blocks down we turned right onto Olivier. The closer we moved toward the river, the nicer the houses got. “Slow down,” I said. “I think it’s that one on the left.”
    Kane pulled over in front of a large Victorian home and killed the engine. We both peered across the street. The house was a double shotgun, not unlike Kane’s. But this one was set on a double lot and the yard was impeccably maintained. Perfectly trimmed ivy framed the steps leading up to the home, and violas and pansies in purple, yellow, and pink lined the sidewalk.
    “Ready?” I asked.
    “Sure.”
    Kane and I crossed the quiet street. The sun was out, and a couple passed us walking a golden retriever and a lab. They smiled and waved. My thoughts jumped to Duke, my ghost dog. I was going to have to find a way to move him to our place in the French Quarter. It would be nice to have a dog around. One who didn’t shed or make a mess.
    “This is a great neighborhood,” I said as Kane and I climbed the ivy-framed steps.
    “It’s nicer than I remember.” He pressed the doorbell.
    I glanced around at the neighboring houses. They were mostly shotgun doubles or camelbacks, but there were a few Victorians and Greek Revivals mixed in. “I like it here.”
    Kane slipped his arms around me, holding me from behind. I leaned into him and then stepped away. This was a business call, after all.
    The door swung open and an older woman—mid-sixties, maybe—dressed in beige linen pants and a royal blue silk blouse peered at us. “Can I—”
    A loud boom rumbled overhead and heavy storm clouds appeared out of nowhere.
    “Witch!” the woman cried as her pupils dilated until her irises disappeared. Her hand came up, magic sparking like a fireball.
    “Wait!” I tried to grasp the magic in my chest, but it was too late. A blast of magic shot from her outstretched hand, knocking Kane and me off the porch.
    “Ouch!” I cried as I landed on my side, holding my hands up ready to attack. But the door was shut and the witch had disappeared. “Shit. What was that for?”
    Kane scrambled to his feet and reached a hand down to help me up.
    “Are you okay?” I asked him.
    He nodded but kept his gaze straight ahead at the house in front of us that now had half a dozen ravens flying around it.
    Blood trickled down my arm. I scowled. It hurt. But worse than that, I couldn’t leave my blood lying around where another witch might be able to get it. I spun toward the car and then froze. “Uh, Kane?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Have you seen this?” Holding my injured arm to my body, I jerked my head toward his Lexus.
    He turned and swore. “Son of a bitch.” The entire car was glowing. We walked tentatively toward it and then around it.
    “Oh my God.” I clasped a hand over my mouth, my body turning cold as ice. On the passenger’s side there were five round spots that glowed brighter than the rest of the car. “That must be where the bullets hit.” One of them was right in the middle of the passenger window. If I hadn’t been fast enough with my protection spell, it would’ve likely hit me in the head.
    Kane grasped my wrist and jerked me to him, holding me tight against his chest. He was trembling.
    I wasn’t doing that great myself.
    “Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered in my ear.
    I nodded against him, hating that we had the evidence of just how close we’d come to a true disaster.
    “You should leave,” a female voice said from behind us.
    Kane tightened his hold on me, but I pushed back gently and turned to find another woman standing with her arms crossed over her chest. I guessed she was in her mid-forties. She wore a long cotton skirt and a formfitting