Her gaze flitted to his bone thingy beside her bed. The one thing she knew for certain? It was anything but a trinket.
She had no pockets to store it, but was leery of leaving it behind. If other freaks had senses like hers, they could sniff out a hiding place. With a shrug, she tucked the piece into the safest place she could think of—the snug cleavage between her pushed-up breasts.
Because she’d never give Rune access to it.
As ready as she’d ever be, Jo “traced” to the Quarter, heading straight for the courtyard. Did she really want to see Rune up to his eyebrows in nymph? Maybe he’d still be trying to relive her bite, and then she could laugh at him.
Nearing the gate, she made herself invisible, but the courtyard was empty. After a survey of the surrounding area, she traced to a rooftop overlooking Bourbon. It was a busy Saturday night in the Quarter, but then, every night brought something different here: tour groups, bands, warnings to repent.
In time, a couple strolling arm-in-arm below drew her attention. The short, black-haired woman wore only one shoe. What looked like a bat clung to the back of her peasant blouse, peeking over a shoulder. The woman’s face was captivating, her golden eyes seeming to glow.
Definitely not human. Freaks were coming out of the woodwork!
Aside from the woman’s oddness, something about her put Jo on guard. Simply because she was paranormal?
Jo turned her attention to the tall man with her, but his cowboy hat blocked Jo’s view of his face. He wore shit-kicker boots and had a rolling, confident gait.
The female asked him, “Have you ever been bait? Well, besides jailbait. Rowr.”
“I can’t say that I have, ma’am.” Texan accent?
Jo cocked her head at his voice, at the grin in his tone. The couple turned the corner onto an empty side street.
In ghost-mode, she traced to another rooftop to get a better look at him. When she caught sight of his face, Jo’s mouth went dry.
Thaddie!
Brother!
He appeared older than the last clipping she’d taped into her scrapbook, but it was him!
All grown up. No longer the little boy who’d ridden around in the Thadpack and worshipped Spidey.
She clutched her chest at the sharp ache.
Why was he in New Orleans? Maybe a sports playoff had brought him to the city. Or maybe he was a tourist, visiting with his high school friends.
So what was he doing with a nonhuman? Associating with freaks is not acceptable, Thaddeus.
If he was going to just . . . hang out with them, then had Jo sacrificed a life with him for nothing?
No, she’d get him away from that woman. And out of this town. An enemy might discover Jo’s connection to Thad. An enemy like—
Movement out of the corner of her eye.
Rune. On the roof of the neighboring building.
His towering, lean frame was crouched like a predator’s, his body seeming to thrum with readiness. For what? Black forked out across his eyes.
She glanced from Thad back to Rune. Threat. She needed to lure the dark fey away from her brother.
She was about to trace to Rune when his hand dropped to his quiver. He fingered the flights of his arrows, as if choosing among them. With blinding speed, he slipped his bow off his back and into place, nocking a black arrow.
Her eyes shot wide. He was aiming at Thaddie!
She focused on a spot in the sky above Rune, tracing to it. She rotated in the air, diving headfirst for him, materializing on her way.
She’d take the dark fey from the roof down to the goddamned basement—and bury him there.
SIXTEEN
About to end thousands of years of life, Rune locked on his target and drew his bowstring.
He’d chosen his favorite arrow. Sian laughingly called it “one-and-done.” Shot into the neck of a target, the arrow would sever the head cleanly.
Rune took an even breath. He was on the verge of relaxing his string fingers when he caught Josephine’s scent.
From above him?
A split second later, he heard her incensed scream.
She was coming at him like a rocket, her eyes black with rage. An ally of Nïx’s? A protective one! Out of habit, he shifted his bow toward the new threat.
Damn it!
He only had time to pop his arrow off the string—
Josephine slammed into him.
The force was like a meteor, shoving him back. BOOM. In an explosion of shingles and wood, the roof cracked open beneath him.
She clawed his throat, holding him in place as she pummeled his face. He took the furious hits, scrambling to secure his bow in his fist.
They plummeted into an attic. She kept hitting. They crashed through the attic floor into an apartment below.
Nothing could pry Rune’s bow from his grip. Which left him with only one hand to defend himself, much less reach the cuffs. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to coldcock her.
As the next floor ruptured, he caught sight of a stunned family at a dinner table, forks hovering over plates.
CRASH. Down he and Josephine plunged to a lower story. In that apartment, a guy was pile-driving a girl, the stereo blaring. Never looked up.
Enviable. Rune was getting his ass kicked by a female he couldn’t seem to hurt.
BOOM. Another story breached. Their momentum should be slowing, but with a wild look in her eyes, she traced them, accelerating the velocity. She meant to put him into the ground?
“Stop this, vampire! If I trace against you, you’ll go flying—”
She popped him in the mouth.
They tore through a last story, rupturing a web of water lines. Rune’s back slammed into the basement floor, cracking the foundation wide open. She landed atop him.
The impact punched the air from his lungs. He sucked in a breath of cement dust and mist, coughing beneath her.
She eased upright, sitting astride him, seeming to gauge how much she’d injured him.
The building groaned and wobbled. They both froze. A second passed. Then another. It stood fast.
“What the hells, female?” Josephine had surely spooked his target with her scream, much less when the entire building had shimmied. He strained to detect the Valkyrie’s scent. Nothing. “Gods damn it!” Though Nïx couldn’t foresee her own destiny, she might have the ability to start clocking his future. Had she gotten a look at his face?
If so, she could predict where he would strike every time.
But this situation was salvageable. Josephine was in league with Nïx, which meant he could use his new prisoner to get to the Valkyrie. Perhaps Nïx would bargain for Josephine’s release.
Not to mention the information he could squeeze from the vampire. Yet another excuse to capture her. Those cuffs in his back pocket awaited.
Once he’d secured her, he’d force her to return his talisman, then utilize one of his particular talents.
Interrogation. “You’re going to pay for this move, vampire.”
She drew back for another punch. With his speed, he caught her fist. As he squeezed, he registered her appearance. Mist from the water lines had dampened her porcelain skin—her short dress revealed a lot of it. The scarlet sheath barely contained her plump breasts and rode high on her thighs.
She wore jewelry, makeup, and fuck-me heels, dressing like a man-eater. Dressing like? Josephine the vampire was the very definition of a man-eater.
Blood rushed to his cock at the thought: She made a meal of me last night.
When he hardened beneath her, she squirmed with outrage, and that micro hem exposed a fruitful view.