Raven Cursed

“Probably.” I admitted.

 

“I gave you a charge. Fulfill it.” He vanished with a whirlwind and that pop of displaced air. The twins were looking at me quizzically, and I realized that they hadn’t seen me almost pull a stake on their master. I sank back in the couch cushions and tried to remember how to breathe.

 

I managed three insufficient breaths and stood. I needed out of here. “I’ll report back by sunrise.” They nodded, still confused, and I walked around the coffee table, the headless mannequin, and the golden collar, and out the door. Sometimes all a girl has is moxie, and when her knees are knocking and her heart’s racing and she’s sweating drops of pure fear, that’s a good time to draw on that feminine talent. That and prayer. Yeah. Prayer might be a real good idea about now.

 

Crap. Grégoire had handled pure silver. Just like Leo could. Had Leo been silver poisoned once? And he was fast. Maybe faster than Leo. So why was Leo the Master of the City of New Orleans, and not Grégoire? And how was I gonna get out of killing Evangelina if Lincoln was trapped in her basement with a demon?

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

 

 

 

 

Things Had Just FUBARed

 

 

 

I was at Lincoln Shaddock’s place in less than the time I had allowed myself. Unfortunately, so was Sheriff Grizzard and a strange woman. They both looked royally ticked off. He met me at my SUV and looked me over as I opened the door. As I climbed out, my eyes caught on the folded scrap of purple on the passenger floor. Someone had folded Evangelina’s scarf. I’d have to tip the valets well. They were going beyond the call of duty.

 

I closed the door and Grizzard took in the array of weapons, most illegal. The woman stood at his shoulder, her hand on a pistol grip under her arm. Cop. Rather than defend my weapons, I pulled a blade and handed it to Grizzard hilt first. I pretended not to hear his shocked breath at the sight of the naked blade glittering in the moonlight. He took the hilt and turned it to the dim light while I unstrapped the blade sheath. “It’s a vamp-killer. German steel overlaid with sterling, hilt and blade all one piece. The hilt is molded over with high impact, crosshatched plastic for a better grip. The blood groove is extra deep. Killing vamps is bloody business.”

 

“I hear their blood is like acid,” the woman said.

 

“Some of them. Some not. Depends on the bloodlines.”

 

“They’re talking about licensing these in Congress.” He looked up at me under bushy brows. “Talking about licensing vampire hunters too.”

 

“Congress is always talking.” I gave him the sheath and tucked my box of supplies under one arm. “The sheath attaches to your belt and upper thigh. Consider it a gift. Who are you?” I asked the woman.

 

“Loretta Scoggins, sheriff of Madison County.”

 

The drill-sergeant-sheriff who cussed like a sailor. I handed her a blade too, considering it a point of good PR. Leo could replace them. Grizzard and Scoggins started working on the straps and I led the way to the door. “Pickersgill tells me Lincoln is missing,” he said.

 

“Yeah. And I have to go save him from the wicked witch of the west. But first we have to restore order to the chained ones.”

 

“Is that gonna be hard?” Loretta asked.

 

I laughed, the sound too dry for real humor. “It can be.”

 

Pickersgill was standing at the entrance, the two and a-half inch steel door held open. Soft light filtered out, illuminating the shrubs at his side. He was a slight, nondescript man, not nearly as pretty as most vamps, which means he was brought over because he had something to offer his maker. With his history, that meant his military and political smarts. I nodded to him; he nodded back and shut the door behind us. “You came alone? Not with your boys?”

 

“You were insulting last time. How bad is it?” I asked.