Her body shakes, as if shuddering something off. “I really am. I’m sorry. It’s just… well, this morning has been rather off-putting.”
“How so?” I grab her hand and pull her to a seat beside me on the cement steps. “Did something happen?”
“You don’t want to hear about it.” She waves my question away. “It’s boring.”
“If it’s making you all stiff and uncomfortable, then it isn’t boring, and I definitely want to know about it, so that we can resolve your discomfort.”
Luna glances across the street, toward Jackson Square. I follow her gaze and spy two intense men staring back at us. A halo of vapers wafts around one, and he drags a slow inhale from the cigarette held in his hand. He hands the smoke to the guy standing beside him.
I shiver and my skin prickles with an endless supply of goosebumps.
I’ve seen these men somewhere before. I know I have. But where? My mind races, lands on the memory of James, and my meeting the other day with his brother. The three of us were sitting at a table talking when a man walked in. The bokor, I was told. He had two lackies following in his wake. The same two lackies who now have their sights glued tight on Luna.
The second guy drops the cigarette and squashes it with his foot. Takes a stride in our direction.
Chapter Six
“Want to go for a ride?” I grab Luna’s hand and, without waiting for her response, drag her to my bike. I hop on, straddling the top tube, then motion for her to jump on the seat.
Her gaze darts to the men crossing the street. In a blink, she is on the bike with her arms wrapped snugly around me, and I’m standing, cranking the pedals into a full jam down the street. Her body is warm against mine, and it sends my skin into a fuzzy tingle.
Or, it might be the tension of the situation.
“What was that about?” I call over my shoulder, keeping my eye on the shifting traffic ahead—both cars and humans.
“I don’t know exactly,” she says. “I think the spell I cast for love backfired and gave me creepers instead.”
Love spell? My muscles straighten, tighten, and my chest squeezes. An explosion of auto fumes assaults my nose, sending my upper body into shivers.
The motion of her body twisting to view the path behind us jars the bike, and I readjust my weight.
“What love spell?” My thoughts are flushing with crimson. I felt myself starting to feel something for Luna. A special kind of kinship. I know we only just met, but still… What if everything I felt… feel… is all the falsity of a spell? I release a heavy exhale. “I don’t think a failed love spell would bounce back with creepers. But then, what do I really know.”
“You’re probably right,” she mumbles.
I envision her with her head bowed, and it reminds me of her rambled apology and excuse laid on me at the coven meeting. She said then that she’d bolted from our previous meeting in order to protect me, sort of. What if she believes she’s doing the same thing now by remaining close-lipped about whatever is going down?
“You know, my family is somewhat well known here in New Orleans for our witch heritage. Some people fear us. Some people think we’re crazy powerful… or just crazy.” My grip on the handlebars tightens. “We might be able to help you, if you are willing to share the truth about whatever is happening.”
I pedal us all the way to the Café Du Monde at Riverwalk. Lock up my bike and lead Luna inside, where we share a plate of beignets. Luna is oddly quiet, and when she does speak, she adeptly avoids the topic I want to discuss, the men clearly following her. She redirects the conversation to her dad, another topic of concern, so I allow the deflect.
“He drank himself into a stuper last night,” she says, pushing at a beignet. “I’ve never seen him so bad, and he refuses to talk to me. I don’t know what is going on, and I don’t know what to do.”
“My gut tells me those creeper guys are somehow involved.” I lean back and splay my hands across the tabletop, in an attempt to avoid crossing my arms.
“Maybe.” She pushes her empty cocoa to the side and takes a sip of her water, then glances to her left and to her right. I’ve been keeping a watch on the patrons coming and going. So far, no one has swished any brooms in my mind. “Whatever it is, I don’t like it. The lack of control and the not knowing are driving me batty. ” She leans into the table. “I get the sense that you understand what I’m talking about. You understand, don’t you?”
I lean close and pin my gaze upon her. “I understand better than I’d care to.”
She nods, releases a tiny huff of I-thought-so, and relaxes back in her chair. “Everything about the atmosphere here in New Orleans just feels charged for disaster. It’s like there is an invisible tide and my dad is caught in the undertow.”
“You’re sensing the magick humming through the Quarter. Specifically, the threads of darker magick.” I lean onto my elbows and weave my fingers together. “That’s my suspicion, anyway.”
“You think I can pick up on the magick in the air?” Her eyes blink wide.
“Definitely. If you’re any kind of witch, you are sensing the threads, even if you don’t realize you are doing so,” I say.
“Wow.” Her muscles loosen, and she bites down on her lower lip, appears to gaze into oblivion for a moment. “I wish I was more aware of things than I am.”
“You’ll get there,” I say. “Eventually. Like any talent, it takes time and practice.”
Luna sighs. Frowns. “But I want it now. I’m impatient.”
“I totally understand.” I reach out to squeeze her hand, but then think better of
