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  “That’s the entrance there,” he pointed. “Just watch.”

  The timestamp at the bottom of the video showed it to be shortly after midnight when three figures left the building. Halfway into the parking lot, two of them walked on, seeming to stumble toward the street. The other remained still.

  “That’s Emma Thomas’s friends heading for the Uber,” he said.

  I noticed three more infrared silhouettes surrounding the one still standing in the parking lot. “Why are they outlined in red but gray on the inside? What’s up with the infrared?”

  The grim grinned. “They’re using glamour to shield themselves. It somehow messes with their body temperatures and creates this ghostlike image.”

  “Wait.” Ruben frowned at the screen. “You’re telling me your cousin devised a way to pick up vampires hiding themselves with glamour?”

  “He’s a smart guy.”

  “Indeed,” I agreed, still absorbed with the screen.

  The two girls at the curb paused for a minute then got into the Uber and disappeared. That’s when one of the hollow silhouettes grabbed the girl, Emma Thomas, and they all blurred away together.

  “Bloody hell.” Chills rose on my arms, watching the kidnapping take place.

  “Did you track them from here?”

  “As far as we could,” answered the grim. “Watch. They first take her to this area near the river.”

  We all watched the infrared silhouettes near the river, not far from Magazine Street. They put the girl on the ground and stood around, seeming to be waiting for something.

  “She looks dead,” said Ruben, cold menace lacing his words.

  I stared at her still image. “They could’ve subdued her with glamour,” I reminded him. “Or with toxin if one of them bit her. Or some other human drug for that matter.”

  “They didn’t kill her,” assured the grim. “They stay here about ten minutes. Unfortunately, I wasn’t watching these live. My cousin had cameras on sixteen clubs and bars that night. The day after Emma Thomas disappeared, we went through the footage and spotted this. Look, here. Now they take her away again, but we lose trace of them after they leave the Garden District.”

  “Goddamn it,” I muttered, watching as the blurred silhouettes of vampires tracing away vanished beyond the screen of the camera.

  “Like I said”—the grim shrugged—“this is new surveillance software and we haven’t worked out the kinks. But basically, if we know where a crime will be committed, where the next girl will be kidnapped from, we can trace them almost anywhere.” He snapped his laptop shut and shoved it in his messenger bag. “I don’t need to tell you that if we’re asked about this software by anyone else, we’ll deny its existence.”

  “Then why show us?” I asked.

  He stood and hooked the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder, then fished in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

  “Some vampires are doing some shady shit.” He lit the cigarette with a Zippo lighter, engraved with a skull wearing a crown, then shoved it in his back pocket. “If we can help catch these fuckers, we will.” He dragged on his cigarette, dark eyes squinting behind the swirling smoke. He gave a wave with the fingers holding the cigarette. “Let me know when you have a location, Ruben.”

  He wove around the furniture in long strides and disappeared out the door.

  “Interesting fellow,” I commented. “And useful.”

  “Extremely.” Ruben drained the last of his coffee and set it aside, his brow pinched in thought. “So we need a way to lure the kidnappers to one spot. Perhaps give them a prime hunting ground.”

  “Indeed. My concern is what they’re doing with the girls. Is it just for a blood orgy?”

  Blood orgy wasn’t a pleasant term, but it was the common term used for a group of vampires who fed off one or more human hosts at one time.

  “If so, then what are they doing with the girls after?” Ruben’s voice had deepened. This mess was taking place in his territory, and there were vampires under his rule breaking the supernatural laws.

  It was painful to think about what these young women were going through. But I could offer some solace. “They haven’t found any bodies yet. So let’s assume they’re not being killed.”

  “That’s all we can assume at this point,” growled Ruben before standing. “What is it?”

  He’d noticed my pensive expression. “Didn’t you say that Jules had the power to null a supernatural’s powers temporarily?”

  “She does.”

  I nodded then stood from the sofa. “I think I have an idea. But let me think about it a little while and send you the details.”

  “I’m open to all suggestions at this point. Anything to catch these assholes.”

  “I’ll text you later.” I left and headed to my rental sportscar on the curb, my brain spinning with my still-forming plan.

  I glanced up the street and couldn’t help looking in the direction Isadora had gone. I wondered where she was headed this morning. All chipper and smiling. That is, until she’d seen me and I’d called her name.

  Why was she so offended by my presence? I was a likeable guy, dammit.

  There was the fact I’d hit her with my car. True.

  I found her fascinating. Was it because she seemed to want to flee my presence the second we were ever alone? I wasn’t sure. Something about her made me want to know her better. Yes, I was accustomed to people liking me. Especially women. But Isadora Savoie did not, that was for sure.

  And now, this fucking list of hers.

  I pulled it out of my back pocket and then started the engine, wanting to take a look at her pros and cons list of “Devraj Egomaniac Kumar.”

  I was not an egomaniac. Just because I was better at just about everything than the average person or supernatural didn’t mean I was an egomaniac. Huffing a sigh, I read to myself.

  Pros:

  Nice physique, but typical of most vampires really

  Somewhat considerate—after he runs people over with his expensive car

  Charming—but kind of over-the-top with it (note to vampire: stop trying so hard)

  Pretty hair

  I grinned. She thought my hair was pretty? Then I frowned. That was the only thing she didn’t have a negative addendum tacked onto her pseudo-compliments. I sped the few blocks down Magazine Street but stopped for the red light next to Mystic Maybelle’s. I reread the rest of the list then.

  Cons:

  Exceedingly superior and full of himself

  Needs to be the center of attention

  Too rich, clothes too fancy; obviously overcompensating for something

  Ridiculously expensive car and social media pics point to SPS

  Following that, there was a doodle of a man’s torso and a micro-penis between his legs. I couldn’t help but laugh. Her illustration must have been of me suffering from Small Penis Syndrome.

  I hung a right toward my rental house and then slowed as I passed the Savoie residence, grinning and shaking my head.

  Isadora was intriguing. And funny, even when she didn’t intend to be. The sight of her this morning, her face fresh and bare, her walk light and free, her clothes casual but pretty in that Bohemian way. That’s when it hit me what it was about her.

  She wore no masks of any kind and a no-nonsense attitude with pride. There was no artifice to her at all. Living in a world where everyone around me had mastered the art of deception, I couldn’t help but find her compelling. A strange creature I hadn’t met before. One whose forthright and honest outlook made me want to stop and take note. To look. And linger.

  I pulled into the driveway and stared down at the list one more time before stuffing it into my pocket. This witch loathed me on principle, but she definitely had a lot of misconceptions about me. And the gauntlet she inadvertently threw down with this damn list had my mind turning.

  “Challenge accepted,” I whispered to myself before marching up the walk to find a brown box sitting
by the door. Frowning, I immediately scanned with my senses to determine if this was a threat or if it was dropped off by one.

  No sign of any supernatural scent on the box. And no dangerous smell emanated from within. No magical energy anywhere. Only human.

  I picked up the package. Strange. I didn’t order anything. Was it something the movers forgot and I’d overlooked?

  I unlocked the doors, waltzed into the kitchen, and dropped my keys on the granite countertop. After lifting a knife out of the butcher block, I slit the tape and opened the box, then lifted another smaller box from within.

  And stopped.

  And stared.

  “What in the—?”

  I flipped it over to check out the package promotion that read: Buckle up for fun with Big John! 9 vibration modes to deliver wide sensations. Waterproof for bath and shower fun. Whisper quiet motor for wild fantasy play. Explosive pleasure-inducing orgasms guaranteed.

  Chuckling, I flipped it back over to read the vibrator’s name. Some lucky lady was obviously going to miss out on nine modes of vibration to take her to ecstasy. I lifted the brown box it was packaged in and read the name and address.

  My smile fell.

  Isadora Savoie.

  All intelligent thought stopped as blood drained from my brain and rocketed straight to my cock. The very thought of her sprawled on her back, her legs spread while she used this on herself, had my canines sharpening.

  “Bloody hell,” I muttered.

  Slamming the vibrator back inside the box it came in, I folded the flaps, found some tape in a kitchen drawer, and sealed it as best I could. By the time I finished, my chest was heaving.

  Propped under my arm, I marched for the door to go deliver it to the Savoie porch. Anonymously. As I opened my front door, I stopped and stared across their driveway to the house, imagining what Isadora would do if she knew I’d accidentally opened and discovered her new naughty toy. Then I remembered her infernal list in my pocket. A wicked smile split across my face.

  “You shouldn’t,” I told myself.

  But I already knew that I would. I stepped back inside the house, feeling “exceedingly superior” about my plan as I carried Isadora’s package with me.

  Chapter 6

  ~ISADORA~

  * * *

  “Oh, yes,” I could hear Clara saying with enthusiasm to a customer in the shop as I stood in the inventory closet. “It will not only keep enemies away but will likely turn many of them into your friends.” She paused. “Hmm. One in particular, I think.”

  “Why would I want an enemy to be a friend?” asked the woman, obviously puzzled.

  Even though Clara whispered, I could hear her clearly. “Because one will be your next lover.”

  The woman gasped, then stammered out, “I’ll take the crystal. And two packs of the l’amour tea.”

  “Absolutely,” said Clara cheerily. “You won’t regret it.”

  I smiled as I stared at my inventory spreadsheet on my clipboard. Clara had obviously tapped into her minor psychic ability with the customer. Each of my sisters held power in their specific magical discipline, but they also had a touch of other gifts. Like telekinesis and psychic ability. All of my sisters were powerful telekinetics. But I wasn’t. For some reason, I was a weak telekinetic and barely possessed the psychic abilities most witches had. But I was proud of my strength as a Conduit, even though it frustrated me sometimes that I was deficient in other areas.

  I hung my clipboard with the updated inventory list on the nail on the inside of the closet and stepped out.

  “Bye, now,” said Clara, waving after her smiling customer.

  I stepped over to the counter and pet Z, who was curled up on the cashier counter in a basket with a pink polka-dot cushion.

  “Why did you buy Z a pink bed?” Because Clara was in charge of the shop, it had to be her who’d bought it. Even though Z was technically Evie’s, we all loved him to distraction.

  “I didn’t buy it. I made it.”

  “But pink?” I asked.

  “Real men can wear pink,” she emphasized, smiling at Z who was now purring in that sputtering way of his.

  When I pulled energy from the room, the light blinked twice. I then poured a warm droplet of magic into my fingertips as I scratched him under the chin before calling out louder to Clara, “I hope you didn’t tell that lady the l’amour tea would bring her true love or anything.”

  Clara scoffed, moving out from behind the register to straighten the bookshelf. “I told her the truth, of course. That it could draw someone who is attracted to her to make his move.”

  “Mmm.” My stomach growled. “Well, I’m going to pop over and get Sam to make us some lunch. You want the usual?”

  “Yep. Don’t forget the extra pickles please.”

  “Never!” I called back, aghast.

  She laughed behind me as I opened the shop door, the bell jingling overhead, then stepped into the alley that separated Maybelle’s from our bar. I strolled to the kitchen entrance and let myself in with my key on the rubber ring I kept around my wrist during the day. I always waited till past the lunch rush because I didn’t want to be a burden on Sam or Elsie, the line cooks who fixed our lunch most workdays.

  “Hey, there, Iz,” said Sam, stacking an open-faced po’boy with crispy fried shrimp.

  My mouth immediately watered. “Do you have time for an order for me and Clara?”

  Sam glanced over, giving me a smirky smile. “I always have time for you.”

  I grinned. Sam liked to flirt, but there had never been anything between him and the Savoie sisters. We’d come to think of him more like a brother. Same for JJ, our bartender, who’d been working for us for years. Our Cauldron family was just that—family.

  “I’ll have one of those today.” I nodded to the order he was finishing up. “Heavy on the arugula please.”

  “And light on the aioli.” He grinned while still dressing the sandwich in front of him. “And let me guess. For Clara, fried oyster po’boy, hold the mayo, extra pickles.”

  “Yep.” I passed him by, grabbing a French fry from the fry basket on the workstation.

  “Hey!” said Jules.

  I spun around, stuffing the fry in my mouth and pretending I wasn’t caught already.

  “We’re working here,” she informed me with her maternal tone, turning back to her smoking skillet and pointing her spatula toward the door. “Wait out at the bar.”

  Jules was strict about her house rules, and I didn’t blame her. She ran a tight ship and liked everything in order. I totally understood since I was the same way. In other words, we were the control freaks of the family.

  As I pushed through the swinging door that opened up right beside the bar, I heard the light chatter of the mid-afternoon crowd and then loud boisterous laughter off to my right. My sisters Violet and Evie were gathered alongside another waitress, Belinda, around a four-top in the corner. JJ wasn’t minding the bar, but leaned against the wall, a towel hanging out the back of his jeans’ pocket while the four of them were riveted to the only one sitting. Devraj Kumar.

  Evie huffed out a laugh. “So you were both caught with your pants down. Literally.”

  “With the king’s mistresses,” added Violet, actually looking shocked. Which never happened.

  A flaming heat brushed up my neck and filled my cheeks. I gritted my teeth and listened intently while also telling myself to mind my own business. But I couldn’t.

  Devraj leaned back in his chair, using animated hand gestures as he held court in my family’s place of business. I crossed my arms, feeling defensive and agitated. There were literally a hundred places to eat along Magazine Street. But he had to come here?

  JJ pushed off the wall into a standing position. I swiveled toward the line of windows, tuning him out as he regaled them with some story about schmoozing his way out of trouble with the Spanish royalty. The foot traffic seemed light today out on the sidewalk as the heat index kicked up. More rauc
ous laughter drew my attention back to the group in the corner.

  Devraj caught sight of me at the bar and froze, his expression blank, his gaze piercing. Slowly, he swiveled back to Evie who was straddling a chair backward, her chin resting on her hands on the back of the chair. He launched into some other story, captivating them with his wit and charm.

  But I wandered over to the window overlooking the side street and tried to ignore the way he rattled my nerves. A cute couple walked and laughed arm-in-arm, their perky Collie tugging on the leash. I smiled, thinking of Archie back at Angel Paws.

  Evie’s loud, infectious laugh caught my attention. Belinda giggled along with her.

  Devraj shrugged one shoulder, glancing my way as I walked back toward the kitchen door, hoping Sam would hurry the hell up.

  “That’s what happens when Big John joins the party.”

  Then they all laughed, even him before he homed in on me, heat simmering in his dark eyes, his lips parted in such a sensual look that sweat broke out on my back.

  It had been a hot minute since a man had looked at me like that, that’s all. I’d stopped dating a few years ago, immersing myself in happier pursuits. Like gardening. Men just didn’t compare to the joy of hyacinth in bloom, sorry to say. Not in my experience anyway.

  Devraj added in that teasing rumble, “Got to love Big John. Always there to give a helping hand.”

  Dawning realization shot through me like a thousand daggers hitting me at once. I suddenly stepped back, bumping my hip into the bar, my mouth going cotton-dry.

  Big John? Big John. Big John!

  No, no, no, no, no!

  They all dispersed, but the he-devil just sat there grinning at me like the fiend he was. I had no idea what the hell the story was, but I knew without a single doubt his little tale was meant for me. To embarrass me. Even if he was the only one who knew what Big John was really a reference to. Heat raced under my skin, filling my cheeks.

  No, Isadora. You will not allow him to get to you.

  Tipping my chin higher and pretending to be far braver than I was, I cleared my throat and sashayed toward him.