you’re a fraud,” Nora said.
“What is he to you? The High Priest?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not good for you.”
Nora felt a jolt at those words. Her anger—dammed by her curiosity—finally broke through. She was done.
“Why don’t you just go and cast a spell to make sure I do what you want me to do?” Nora demanded, her tone mocking.
“You’re suggesting I go to a sacred temple by night, light a candle, and speak magic words?”
“That’ll work.”
“Like when you go to St. Mary’s at night, light altar candles and pray?”
Nora narrowed her eyes at Mercedes.
“You have been following me.”
“I walk the Garden District every night, as you do. I saw you out with only your dog, later than usual. I was curious.”
“Stop following me.”
Mercedes gave her a Mona Lisa smile. “Yes, Mistress.”
Nora shut the door behind Mercedes, locked it and rested her forehead on the cool surface. She breathed, breathed again.
Stupid. So fucking stupid. She didn’t believe in this garbage. It was all a hoax, a hustle, a con. A long con, at that. And Nora was done with it. She undid the lock. She was going to tell Mercedes that if she ever stepped foot on her property again, there would be a restraining order waiting with her name on it.
Nora threw the door open. Mercedes was long gone, but swinging from her doorknob was a string of silver Mardi Gras beads.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cyrus got home to his apartment a few minutes after midnight. He had eyes for nothing or no one but his bed. He had his shirt unbuttoned and halfway off when he felt his phone buzzing in his pants.
A text from Nora. Soon as he read it, he called her.
“Cyrus,” she breathed. “I’m so glad you’re still awake.”
“Just got home. She was at your house?”
“Yeah. She just knocked on my door.”
“And you opened it?”
“Gmork didn’t bark. He barks at men, not women. I just saw a woman and opened the door.”
She sounded more scared now than she had when Pasadena had roughed her up on Bourbon Street.
“What did she say?”
“A lot. She said she’s been keeping an eye on me for three years. I don’t know why, but she’s the one who’s been putting the beads in my tree.”
“Shit, shit, shit.” Cyrus grimaced. “I never should have gotten you into this.”
“It’s not your fault, Cy.”
“You need me to come over?” he asked. Where had that come from? Was that the old Cyrus talking or the new Cyrus? “I can sleep on your sofa. Paulina won’t mind.”
“I have to be honest, I’m kind of tempted to say ‘yes.’ But I don’t want to be a coward.”
“A woman came to your door in the middle of the night, told you she’d been watching you for three years. That she’s been beading your trees. I think you’re allowed to be scared shitless. Hell, I am.”
That wasn’t an exaggeration. Cyrus’s heart was pounding like a bass drum.
“I don’t want you alone,” he said. “Can you stay at Edge’s house tonight?”
Edge definitely seemed like the kind of man who could handle this kind of threat.
“King’s probably not home yet. And I’m sure Juliette’s already asleep. I’m not about to wake up a pregnant woman and scare the hell out of her.”
Cyrus couldn’t blame her for that. “Hotel? S?ren’s place?”
“Yeah, no. When he finds out what happened, I’ll be off the case. I’ll just go sleep at my dungeon,” she said. “The building is alarmed and monitored.”
“Fine, but I’ll drive you,” Cyrus said. “She might still be watching your front door, so I’ll pick you up in front of Edge’s. You can head out back, through the alley into his gated yard. I’ll pull around front of his place and pick you up. Then we’ll hang at your—” and Cyrus could not believe he was saying this, “—dungeon until morning.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Gonna do it anyway. I got you into this. I’ll change clothes and be right there. Don’t leave your house until I text you I’m in front of Edge’s place, okay?”
“Got it. See you soon.” She paused. Then, “Cyrus?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem.”
Cyrus changed into jeans and a black t-shirt. He didn’t want to wake—or scare—Paulina with a text or a call. She always kept her phone on and by her bed in case of emergencies. Instead, he sent her a short email telling her the basics—that Nora had been threatened by a possible witness, and he was going to keep an eye on her tonight.
That late,