Black Arts: A Jane Yellowrock Novel

Like pack, Beast murmured deep inside. She wasn’t happy for reasons I didn’t fully understand. And if I would admit it, I wasn’t happy. I flopped back over, my hands behind my head, the covers up to my neck, and stared at the ceiling, the fan above me hidden in the shadows. But if I was honest, I was unhappy for reasons other than the people in my house. I was unhappy because of Molly.

 

My best friend in the entire world was in trouble. She had told her husband she was coming to see me, though she had refused to see me or speak to me in months. Why? Why would she not just pick up the phone? Why lie? Why all the deception?

 

Unless . . . Maybe Molly left that note, because she knew if she told Evan that she was coming to see me, he would follow . . . and she wanted him here? Why? My stomach muscles clenched as things started coalescing in the back of my brain, straining to take a form that I couldn’t yet make out. I slowly sat up in bed.

 

Either she was throwing him off the trail or she really was coming to New Orleans. Yet she had disappeared. And that side trip? All of Molly’s friends and sisters lived in or around Asheville, North Carolina. Where had Molly gone for fifty or sixty miles? Why had she then turned in her car and disappeared? And how was she living without money? That was the real question. Sooo . . . Molly had a plan. And I needed to find out what it was. And where she was getting her money. And if she ever got to New Orleans. Or if something had changed her plans against her will.

 

Taking the cell off my bedside table, I texted the Kid: Find where Molly’s mother lives. Name something like Bedelia Everhart. Check mileage. Start file. Whatever had happened afterward to change her plans, Molly’s original scheme had included me. That could be the only reason for using my name. So where was she?

 

? ? ?

 

 

I struggled awake in the night, feeling/hearing/knowing my door was opening. A faint scritch of wood on wood. The air moved differently over my face. The sound of the central heater was less muted, with a more hollow hum. And I smelled Angie Baby. “Aunt Jane? I’m scared.”

 

“Come on in,” I whispered, lifting the covers.

 

She slid into the bed, whispering, “Scootch over,” and she spooned into my tummy, pulling my arm across her. The smell of strawberry shampoo and witch child filled my nostrils. The bed, which had felt just fine only moments ago, felt wonderful now.

 

Kit, Beast thought, purring happily.

 

I was glad it was dark because I knew there was a silly, goofy grin on my face. “What about Little Evan? Don’t you think he’s scared?”

 

Angie Baby sighed and settled deeper against me. “EJ’s brave. G’ night.”

 

“Good night, Angie.”

 

Moments later, I heard small feet pattering down the stairs, and EJ raced into the room through the open door, saying, “Me too! Me too!”

 

The silly smile still on my face, I reached over and lifted him onto the bed. He crawled across me, pushed me off my own pillow, and flopped into the warm spot. I pulled the other pillow over and fluffed it until it fit my neck and face, EJ’s cold back nestled into the small of mine. I pulled Angie close and closed my eyes, more than satisfied. And Beast was still purring. Finally she was content.

 

? ? ?

 

 

Beast kicked out, swiping my mind awake. Instantly my hands found the children, safe and asleep against me. What—? My cell vibrated on the bedside table. By Beast’s alert interest, I knew it was Leo. I took the cell into my hand, holding it as I pushed Beast away from control of my mind. She wanted Leo, always had, and the binding only made it worse. I needed to make sure that Leo never learned about the other soul that lived inside me, nor the fact that she was bound to him.

 

I eased out of the warm bed and padded into the living room, sitting on the couch and pulling the coverlet over me. I checked the time before I answered. Three eleven a.m. Like the middle of the day to a vamp. “Yellowrock.”

 

“My Enforcer.” The words were a soft rumble of sound, a possessive vibration that pulsed on the binding and made Beast ready to roll over and offer him her belly. Leo was using that come-hither tone the really old ones use when they are seducing for dinner and sex, and Beast liked it. My usual defense to all that was a touch of tasteless snark.

 

“Mornin’, Leo. ’Sup?”

 

His hesitation was slight, but noticeable, and I grinned in the dark until he said, “You will attend me before dawn. We have much to discuss.”

 

It wasn’t a request, and because the MOC paid my quite hefty retainer, I had to obey. But I didn’t have to kowtow to him about it. “Okeydokey, Your Royal Fanghead. You want I should bring my shooter? My tech guy? Or just me?”

 

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