by Debra Dunbar
The door opened, and Vincent stepped inside. He pulled off his fedora to shake off the raindrops. This was more his look, Hattie considered. A proper suit, tailored to make him look taller than he really was, to give him that aura of fashion and prestige. He was in his element here in the city, that cocky expression firmly back on his face, confidence in his swagger. He gave Hattie a nod and she caught a glimpse of the Vincent she’d gotten to know on the boat. There was a sort of intimacy that stretched between them, something that only two people who had shared a profound experience could claim. Then with a grin and a spin of his fedora, he approached.
“Hello again,” he said as he sat beside her and plopped his hat on the bar.
“Top of the mornin’. Are you drinking?”
He shook his head. “Too early for me. I’ve got a show tonight, and I have to keep the old well filled until then.” He tapped his chest.
“A show?” Hattie asked. “What, you’re in showbiz? Theater?”
“It’s like theater, but nothing so grand.”
“Well, then,” she declared, gripping her glass of what was mostly melted ice at this point. “I’ll drink for the both of us.”
Vincent eased in to lower his voice. “I’ve poked around, like I said I would. Looking for information on this Hell—”
A voice boomed from behind the bar. “Well, I be painted red! Another customer!” Leon smiled at Vincent, his broad Creole accent draping itself around their shoulders. Vincent nodded in reply.
Leon gave Hattie a wink. “So, ya gonna introduce me to this drink of water, or will I have to pry his name out on my own?”
Hattie lifted a hand. “Vincent Calendo, this is Leon.”
Vincent shook the man’s hand. “Hiya.”
Leon jerked a thumb at Vincent. “This handsome fellow buyin’ ya drinks?”
Hattie sniffed. “I’ll buy my own drinks, thank you.”
Vincent eyed Leon with thinning patience, and Leon seemed to pick up on it. “Tell what. I got something special for ya both. Be back in a shake.”
Once Leon had stepped out of earshot, Hattie nudged Vincent in the side. “I think he likes you.”
“He’d be the one mook in this city who does.”
“What about your friend, Lefty?”
“He’s not my friend. He’s my handler,” Vincent scoffed.
“Ah, well. You make joining the Crew sound so appealing.”
“It’s not like that,” he urged with a hint of recovery. “We have a good relationship. Not that it’s that sort of relationship.”
“That’s not really what I thought, but you are adorable when you’re all flustered and uncomfortable,” she teased.
Vincent scowled at her. “Hell pincher.”
“Aye, what about him?”
“Nothing to say it’s a him or a her,” Vincent chided. “But word is there’s a pincher in Philadelphia who might could fill in some blanks. Had a run in with a demon once and did some book-thumping of his own. I’m planning a trip once I can talk the Capo into it.”
Hattie squinted. “How did your lords and masters take the news of your failure?”
He shrugged. “It’s not a failure yet. There’s still pinchers out there. And I’ve learned a valuable lesson from Capstein. No one wants a strong-arm, when a reasoned argument would do.”
“Reasoned argument?” A laugh burst out of her. “Is that what you think you have? You better truffle around for a better plan, boy-o.”
The door opened again, and Vincent turned on reflex as a lean brunette entered. She brushed her hands over her arms to dry them as best she could.
Hattie shook her head. “Shite weather, today.”
Vincent didn’t respond. Instead, he eased off the stool, standing stiff as he stared at this woman. She peered around the room, and once she locked eyes with Vincent, her entire posture blossomed. She approached with quick steps, and Hattie wondered for a hot second whether she was about to throw her arms around the man.
She did not. Instead, she stopped directly in front of him, gripping her clutch in both hands.
Vincent muttered, “Fern?”
The woman whispered, “Lefty told me you’d be here.”
“What’s the matter?”
She shook her head. “Nothing’s the matter. I just… I wanted to talk.”
They gave each other one of those long wordless stares that belonged in the cinema. Hattie rolled her eyes, fighting back the urge to gag. After a few seconds, Vincent turned to her.
“Do you mind if I…”
Well. At least he’d remembered she was still there. “No problem. I’m assuming we’re done with this conversation anyhow.”
Leon appeared behind Vincent with two glasses of champagne. He set them down onto the bar behind Vincent with a gracious nod. “Here ya go. It’s on da house, my friends.”
Vincent took both glasses by the stems and made as if he were about to walk off with them.
“Eh! Boy-o! Where’re you going with my bubbly there?” She snatched one from his hand, biting back a laugh at his flustered expression. It was so much fun riling this guy up. And he was adorable when she managed to knock that confident expression from his face.
“Oh. I just…I mean…” He stared at the one glass in his hand, then at Fern, then back down at the glass.
“Give it to her, why don’t ‘cha,” she chided. “Hurry it up, before I take that one off your hands as well.”
He shot her a wry grin, for a moment returning to the Vincent she knew. Then he turned with a sappy expression to hand the glass to Fern before escorting the other woman to a table on the opposite end of the room.
Hattie watched as they walked, an irrational tightness balling up in her chest. The way he looked at this woman bothered her. He was acting like a schoolboy, and it wasn’t a behavior she found particularly appealing.
Hattie turned back to face the bar with a scowl.
Leon snickered.
“Shut it!” she hissed.
“Won’t last. Don’t worry your head on’t.”
“I’m not,” she snarled.
Leon approached, hands up in surrender. “Okay. I’m not sayin’ nothin’ more.”
“Good.”
“I’m glad ya came in today, Hattie, even if pretty-boy Valentino over dere is making moon-eyes at some other girl.”
“Thought you weren’t sayin’ no more?”
He chuckled. “Glad ya here, Hattie. Missed ya mighty.”
She cocked her head and took a sip of the champagne. “Well, get used to it. I’ll be here every other Sunday.”
Leon’s smile disappeared. “I’m afraid ya won’t.”
She blinked. “What, now?”
“I’m sellin’ da place, is what.”
Hattie’s eyes shot wide. “Leon! Why? What’s happened?”
“Oh,” he sighed as he leaned over the bar, “dis city done got too dangerous for a man like me to make a comfortable livin’.”
“Why, because you’re Creole?” she asked.
He shook his head.
She whispered, “Because you prefer men?”
Leon snickered. “Oh, no. It’s an easy town to make dat sort of living. Trust me.”
“Then what’s got you running off?”
He reached into his pocket to produce a tiny glass vial. “I hear ya had a caper on da Bay a couple weeks back.”
She nodded. “It was a disaster. But I learned a thing or two.” She peered over her shoulder at Vincent. “Maybe made a friend or two.”
Leon nodded. “Raymond came in yesterday.”
“I didn’t know he ever drove to the city.”
“He does, time to time. Not often, but when he does he asks about ya.” Leon added with a whisper, “He tells me ya were hunting for Bimini Island.”
“No such place. It’s a myth,” Hattie scoffed.
“I know,” Leon replied. “I coulda told ya that, if ya’d asked.”
“I was in a rush.”
> “It was the land of Beimini that the Fountain of Youth was supposed to reside. Least dat’s what the locals told a certain Spaniard hell-bent on findin’ it.”
Hattie shook her head. “What? No, it was just some stupid scam run by a crook down in Richmond.”
“Right,” Leon chimed. “Lookin’ for Doc Freedman. I know all about dat. Doc Freedman, and his magic elixir.”
Leon set the vial onto the bar top.
Hattie stared at it.
Leon gave her a wink.
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“I call it Aqua Vitae, because I’m all refined-like.”
Hattie straightened on her stool, her eyes screwing into a question. “Leon, what is this?”
He flattened his hand and gestured for her to keep her volume low. In a jarring moment, his accent faded into perfect locution, spiced with the barest hint of Latin inflection. “Beimini is a myth. But Doc Freedman? He’s very real. That crook in Richmond didn’t spin that name out of whole cloth, you know. Baltimore is technically on the Bay, so the story plays out.”
“You?” she gasped.
Leon nodded to the vial. “That’s enough to last you a good year, if you’re not greedy. It’ll keep back the ravages of time, as well as the ravages of bullets, blades, or whatever else you insist on hurling yourself into.”
She reached with trembling fingers to take the vial. “And…lung complaints?”
He nodded. “Whatever feels like putting a man into the grave. It’s powerful magic, so don’t waste it.”
She gripped the vial tight to her chest, sucking in several panicked breaths. Her father. The elixir. So many unanswered questions.
“Leon, I…”
“Don’t ache your head over it,” he assured her. “With a man like that looking for pinchers…” he nodded at Vincent “…I think it’s time I put some distance between myself and the sea.”
“Where will you go?”
“With this Prohibition on, a man havin’ my talents could do well closer to the action. Maybe I’ll go to Chicago.”
Hattie chuckled. “You’re kidding!”
“Oh, I kept myself hidden in plain sight here. I figure I can do the same in Capone’s backyard. I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”
“Who are you…really?”
Leon smiled. “People think of Spaniards of lore, and they assume they’re white as Anglos. I’ve lived a long time, Hattie. And I’ve seen the same currents wash over and over again. These same forces that assert over men. I was one of them, to be honest. But I learned a thing or two.” He peered up at Hattie with a haunted smile. “I’ll not see that again, if I can help it.”
“The Fountain of Youth,” she whispered. “That was always a scam?”
He snickered. “Obviously.”
She reached over the bar to hug Leon. “Thank you.”
He whispered, “Just don’t let that time pincher put chains on you. That’s all I ask.”
Leon stepped away, gave her a gracious bow, then disappeared through the door to his storeroom.
Hattie stuck the vial into her camisole bra, drained her glass of champagne, and stood up, her head spinning.
She marched for the door, pausing with her hand on the knob to check on Vincent. He was absorbed in conversation with the beautiful woman who seemed to have a lot to say to him, but some instinct played out between the pair of them and Vincent lifted his eyes for a quick second.
Hattie gave him a quick wave.
He smiled and waved in return.
With a tug on the door, she stepped out into the squall. Her shoes splashed in the puddles, squishing in the mud of the street as the rain beat down onto her head. Her bangs flattened with the water, plastered to the side of her face. Pulling off her cloche, she lifted her face to the clouds and smiled.
Slapping the hat back onto her head and kicking a puddle into an arcing splash with a laugh, Hattie Malloy rushed home to her father, a tiny bottle of magic nestled against her thundering heart.
***
Read on with Bum’s Rush, White Lightning Book 2!
Acknowledgments
A huge thanks to our copyeditors Kimberly Cannon and Jennifer Cosham whose eagle eyes catch all the typos and keep Debra’s comma problem in line, and to Damonza for cover design.
We’re grateful for Sarra Cannon’s early read-through of the series. Her her input was so valuable and we definitely owe her a nice bottle of wine.
Special thanks to all our readers who have individually followed us to Hel and back, and enthusiastically cheered us on during our first collaborative project. May there be many more ahead!
Debra and J.P
About the Authors
Debra lives in a little house in the woods of Maryland with her sons and two slobbery bloodhounds. On a good day, she jogs and horseback rides, hopefully managing to keep the horse between herself and the ground. Her only known super power is 'Identify Roadkill'.
A Louisiana native, J.P. relocated to the vineyards and cow pastures of Central Maryland after Hurricane Katrina, where he lives with his wife and son. During the day he commutes to the city of Baltimore, a setting which inspires much of his writing.
For more information:
www.debradunbar.com/white-lightning or
J.P. Sloan’s Author page
Debra Dunbar’s Author page
Also by Debra Dunbar
The Templar Series
Dead Rising
Last Breath
Bare Bones
Famine’s Feast
The Imp Series
A Demon Bound
Satan’s Sword
Elven Blood
Devil’s Paw
Imp Forsaken
Angel of Chaos
Kingdom of Lies
Exodus
Queen of the Damned
The Morning Star
Half-breed Series (Imp World)
Demons of Desire
Sins of the Flesh
Cornucopia
Unholy Pleasures
City of Lust
Other Imp World Novels
No Man’s Land
Stolen Souls
Three Wishes
Northern Lights
Far From Center
Penance
Northern Wolves Series (Imp World)
Juneau to Kenai
Rogue
Winter Fae
Bad Seed
Also by J.P. Sloan
The Dark Choir Series
The Curse Merchant
The Curse Servant
The Curse Mandate
The Dark Interest
Other Novels
Yea Though I Walk