Green-Eyed Demon (Sabina Kane #3)

by Jaye Wells

  I knelt down beside the cat and patted his disconcertingly smooth head. “You okay?”

  “Gark!” His cat ears swiveled as he turned to look at me. “No, I’m not okay. Why can’t we just take a plane or car like normal people?”

  I squinted at my hairless cat/Mischief demon. “Normal, Giguhl? Really?”

  “Whatever, trampire.” He shook himself and stood, his paws sticking to the humanity stew covering the asphalt.

  Dismissing the grumpy demon, I turned to Adam. “How far is this place?”

  “Couple blocks maybe.” He pointed to the mouth of the alley. Actually, it wasn’t so much an alley as walking space between two buildings. At the end, a green wooden gate separated us from the street. “That should be Bourbon Street.”

  Two filthy paws landed on my jeans legs and Giguhl looked up with wide, pleading kitty eyes. “Bael’s balls, can we get out of here already? This alley smells like Satan’s asshole.”

  And with that, we set off to find Rhea’s friend.

  But first we had to dodge drunk coeds, puddles of vomit, and strings of beads that flew like shrapnel through the air. For a random Tuesday—or early Wednesday morning, rather—in late October, the place was hopping. Normally I would have spent more time taking in the crazy, but I’d already been in three time zones that night and had bigger issues on my plate than figuring out who was headlining at Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club.

  Giguhl, on the other hand, spent most of the walk with his little cat mouth hanging open and his eyes wider than saucers. “It’s like heaven,” he breathed when we passed a generously endowed blonde as she traded her dignity for a handful of cheap plastic beads.

  A couple of blocks down, Adam stopped outside a three-story building. A neon sign over the door advertised “Madam Zenobia’s Voodoo Apothecary.”

  I stopped next to Adam and frowned up at the sign. “Rhea didn’t mention her friend’s magic shop specialized in voodoo.”

  Adam shrugged. “Well, it is New Orleans….”

  I reached past him and pulled at the door. Considering the hour, I was surprised to find it open. A bell sounded and the scent of incense and musty, arcane things drifted over us.

  “After you,” I said.

  He walked in, his shoulders tense. I shifted Giguhl to my other arm and performed a scan of the street for suspicious characters. But in the bacchanalia that was Bourbon Street, suspicious was a relative term. But I didn’t see any red-headed offspring of Lilith and Cain—aka vampires—so I let myself relax.

  I turned and walked through the door. Only to stop short as my retinas burned with confusion. Apparently, in addition to voodoo, Zenobia’s other hobby was hoarding. Masks, large glass jars full of mysterious herbs and spices, dolls, chicken bones, bits of ribbon, and figurines with impossibly large phalluses cluttered every inch of available space. Even the speakers, which piped in drum music, were bedazzled with beads and stickers.

  Near the back of the store, a set of narrow stairs led to a second floor. A curtain made from wooden, bone, and crystal beads separated the sales floor from the employees-only areas. Adam beelined to a desk near the curtain and rang the silver bell. I took the long way around to the back, scanning the store for possible exits and potential weapons. If we were staying here, I’d feel better knowing what resources I had at my disposal if Lavinia showed up.

  A few moments after Adam rang the bell, the curtain parted to reveal a bald male with big brown eyes and even bigger glasses with black plastic frames. He was maybe five-foot-five, and his thin frame bordered on fragility. He wore threadbare jeans and a vintage T-shirt that accentuated the birdlike bones of his chest. The strong scent of lavender that swirled around him indicated he was some type of fae.

  When he spotted Adam, he stopped in his tracks. “Where you at, cher?” he purred in a surprisingly deep baritone.

  Adam shifted on his feet uneasily. “Hi, is Madam Zenobia around?”

  “Might I tell her who’s inquiring?”

  “I’m Adam Lazarus.” He gestured toward me. “This is Sabina.”

  I hefted the cat. “And this is Mr. Giggles.” That earned me a hiss in the ear.

  “That’s the ugliest hairless pussy I ever did see.” As the fae slapped the counter and laughed at his own joke, Giguhl dug his claws into my shoulder.

  “From the looks of you, you haven’t seen many pussies, period,” the demon cat growled.

  The male stopped laughing with a gasp. “Not that he’s wrong, but… did your cat just talk smack to me?”

  “He’s actually a demon,” I explained lamely. “And he’s kind of sensitive about the hairless thing.”

  The fae’s eyes widened. “Ooh! A demon?”

  I nodded. “Do you mind if I let him change into his true form?”

  The male put his chin in his hands. “This I have got to see.”

  I grimaced. Considering Giguhl always ended up naked when he changed forms, the fae was about to see more than an eyeful. I set the cat on the floor. “Giguhl, change forms.”

  When the brimstone-scented cloud dispersed, a seven-foot-tall, green-scaled, black-horned, butt-naked demon stood beside me. I kept my eyes averted, but the fae’s gaze zeroed in on Giguhl’s, um, little demon. “Well, hello,” he drawled. “The demon’s got himself a little pitchfork.”

  I grabbed a pair of sweatpants from my backpack and tossed them to Giguhl. Maybe it was me, but he seemed to take his sweet time pulling them on. Almost like he was enjoying the attention. I shook my head. I’ll never understand demons.

  “Err, anyway, Rhea sent us,” Adam said, clearly bemused.

  The fae male dragged his eyes from Giguhl and perked up. “Rhea’s friends? Why didn’t you say so? Madam Z is expecting you.” He came out from behind the desk and slipped a hand around Giguhl’s massive biceps. “I’m Brooks, by the way.”

  As he pulled the demon toward the stairs, he called back toward Adam and me, almost as an afterthought. “Y’all come on now.”

  Upstairs, Brooks led us down a hallway to a red door. He held up a finger to indicate we should wait there and disappeared behind the portal.

  I leaned back against the wall. Adam crossed his arms and leaned next to me with a sigh.

  “He’s… friendly,” Giguhl said, filling the silence.

  I smiled. “I like him. But is it just me, or did anyone else notice that he’s a”—I paused for dramatic effect—“faery?”

  The corner of Adam’s mouth quirked. “You don’t say.”

  “Surprising he didn’t freak out when we walked in with a cat.” From what I knew, faeries hated cats as a rule. My old nymph roommate, Vinca—gods rest her soul—took a long time to get used to having Giguhl around. They eventually warmed up to each other, but it had been touch and go there for a while.

  “Couple of species don’t consider cats mortal enemies. It’s too soon to know which he is, though,” Adam shrugged. “But I will say he seemed to be quite a fan of Mr. Giggles.”

  Giguhl waved a claw over himself. “Can’t blame him for digging this fine ass.”

  I rolled my eyes at the demon. “Anyway, something tells me this Madam Zenobia’s going to be interesting. Isn’t it odd for a mage to practice voodoo?”

  “I’ve never met any who did, but who knows? The mages down here are a different breed from the ones in New York.”

  “Literally a different breed?” Giguhl asked. It was a fair question. Mages were created by the goddess Hekate, but that didn’t mean there weren’t offshoots of the original race. After all, faeries had dozens of subspecies.

  Adam shook his head. “No, I just meant it wouldn’t surprise me if they did things differently here. Since they’re so far from the central group in New York, it would make sense they’ve developed their own ways of doing things.”

  The door opened again and Brooks stuck out his head. “Madam Zenobia is ready to receive you.”

  He stood aside to allow us entrance. I noticed his eyes on Adam’s impressive poster
ior as he walked by. As I passed, Brooks smiled knowingly at me, totally unembarrassed to be caught looking. Since I’d been watching it myself, I couldn’t really blame him.

  I heard the shuffle of hooves behind me and stopped. Turning to Giguhl, I said, “Wait here, okay?”

  “Why?” Giguhl asked.

  I shot him a look that shut him up pretty quick. He just crossed him arms and leaned back against the wall. Just as I closed the door I heard him say to Brooks, “So you’re into dudes, huh?”

  When I heard Brooks laugh, I decided it was safe to leave those two alone for a few minutes. Shutting the door the rest of the way, I turned to look around.

  Just a few candles lit the room, leaving most of the place cloaked in shadow. My vampire eyes adjusted easily to the low light, but Adam squinted around the room, trying to spot our host. I’d already seen she wasn’t there, so I took the opportunity to case the place.

  From the looks of things, this was a sort of receiving parlor. Except most of the parlors I’d seen in books didn’t feature altars covered in skulls, candles, and chicken bones. A sitting area squatted under a floor-to-ceiling window that looked down on Bourbon Street.

  Two closed doors were across the room from the windows. I assumed Zenobia must use this floor as her living area, so one of the doors probably led to another hall or possibly a kitchen and bedroom.

  The door on the left opened and Madam Zenobia walked out. I’m not sure exactly what I’d been expecting a voodoo priestess to look like. Probably someone old and possibly obese. Blame it on movies, I guess. But I should have known better than to base my expectations on popular culture. After all, Hollywood had been getting vampires wrong for decades—don’t get me started on the soulless undead thing… or the godsdamned sparkling. Regardless, the female who glided out of that doorway was definitely not old or fat.

  Candlelight cast a golden glow on her flawless tawny complexion. Dark waves framed high cheekbones. A simple white tunic and jeans hugged her curvy frame. There was no guessing her age, but her confident posture and warm brown gaze hinted at wisdom gained from lots of life experience.

  I glanced at Adam. His mouth gaped wide enough for a small bird to take residence. I nudged his arm. He closed his maw, but his eyes didn’t leave her. I guess I couldn’t blame him.

  Okay, I totally could. Madam Zenobia was a stone-cold fox, and seeing Adam watch her with adoration normally reserved for goddesses made jealousy rear up like a green-eyed demon.

  She approached with a wide, welcoming smile. “You must be Adam and Sabina. Welcome to New Orleans.” She pronounced the city with a syrupy drawl—N’Awlins.

  Zenobia held out a finely boned hand to Adam. Unlike when he met Brooks, he didn’t hesitate to bow over it and deliver a gallant kiss to her knuckles. “Madam Zenobia,” he said. “It’s a pleasure.”

  Her laugh sounded like rustling velvet. “Please. Call me Zen. You’re practically family anyway.”

  “All right.” Adam flashed his dimples at her. “Zen.”

  Maybe I was imagining things, but I could have sworn he added a little extra baritone to his voice. I tried not to give in to my sudden urge to kick him in the shins.

  Instead, I stuck out my hand. “Hi, I’m Sabina.”

  She turned toward me and her smile dimmed a little. “Ah, yes, the mixed-blood. It’s nice to meet you.”

  I ignored her mention of my heritage, which frankly was none of her godsdamned business, and focused instead on our connected hands. Normally, when I made contact with a mage I experienced a tingle of magic. Not so with this one. Hmm.

  “Please sit.” She motioned to the sitting area. “You’ll have to forgive my appearance. I’m afraid I had already retired for the evening when Rhea called.”

  Adam grabbed the only chair, which meant I shared the couch with Zenobia. “We apologize for the lateness of our arrival, but our business is urgent.”

  “It’s fine. Really.” Zen waved away his apology. “Rhea said you were looking for a missing relative?”

  I scooted over a bit to create some space as I faced her. “Yes, my sister—twin, actually. We have reason to believe she’s being held somewhere in the city.”

  Zen grimaced sympathetically and patted my knee. “That’s horrible. Do you know who kidnapped her?”

  I nodded. “Our grandmother.”

  Zen’s mouth fell open in shock. “Are you serious?”

  Seeing my jaw tense, Adam stepped in. “It’s a long story.” Adam leaned forward, cutting off my retort. “But I’m sure you understand our eagerness to get started tracking them down.”

  “Of course. Naturally, you’re welcome to stay here. Brooks and I will do whatever we can to help.”

  While Adam filled Zen in on the little we knew about the situation, I eyed the female. Something was off about her. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though. She was perfectly pleasant, in an annoying, gorgeous kind way, but her actions weren’t what gave me pause. I thought back to the lack of tingle when we’d shook hands and decided to perform a test.

  I’m not proud of what I did next, but, well, I leaned over and—as subtly as possible, mind you—sniffed her. Instead of sandalwood—a signature mage trait—I got a whiff of dirt. I frowned and scooted closer. Another sniff. Yep, definitely dirt.

  But since it’s impossible to be inconspicuous while smelling someone—

  “Excuse me?” Zen interrupted Adam and shot me the side-eye. “Did you just smell me?”

  Adam gave me an exasperated look. I ignored him and squared off with Zen. “You’re human!”

  She squinted at me, as if trying to figure out if I was crazy or just slow. “Right?” She drew the word out like it should have been obvious.

  I pointed a finger at her and turned toward Adam. “She’s human!”

  Adam lifted his ass off the chair and sniffed the air in front of her. Zen drew back against the far edge of the sofa. “Brooks!”

  “I’ll be damned,” Adam said finally. “She is human.”

  “Ha! I told you.” We closed in on her, examining the voodoo priestess like an alien life-form.

  The door burst open. Despite his petite frame, Brooks was all shoulders and fists when he reached us. “Back the fuck up!”

  Giguhl stumbled in after Brooks. He looked to me for direction. I shook my head. I didn’t need a demon to help me handle a pissed-off human and a male faery.

  Adam and I raised our hands and backed away slowly. “No harm meant,” Adam said quickly as Brooks advanced. To Zenobia he said, “We just assumed you were a mage.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why would you assume that?”

  “Why wouldn’t we assume it?” I shot back. “Rhea said you could help us navigate the dark-races subculture down here. We had zero reason to think you’re human.”

  “For your information,” she said, raising her chin, “I’m only three-quarters human. My grandfather was a mage. My grandmother and mother were both voodoo priestesses. Rhea sent you to me because I’m connected to both the humans and dark races in New Orleans.”

  “Still,” I said, ignoring her explanation. “I can’t believe Rhea send us to a dirtnapper for help.”

  “Oh, I get it.” She crossed her arms. “You’re a dark-race supremacist.”

  My mouth dropped open. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Really? How many mortally challenged individuals do you count as friends?”

  My chin came up. “Please. I’ve known lots of humans.”

  “Sabina, I don’t think it counts if you ripped their throats out,” Giguhl said.

  “Hey!” I glared at my disloyal minion.

  “Vampires are the worst.” Zenobia screwed up her lips. “Immortalists, the lot of you.”

  “Excuse me, but I’m only half vampire. And you have a lot of nerve. Like humans are any better. Last time I checked, you don’t exactly consider cows your equals.”

  Her back went up. “Are you calling me a cow?”
>
  I raised an eyebrow. “Moo.”

  By this point, Zen and I were nose-to-nose. I was this close to flashing fang when Adam wedged himself between us. “Okay, ladies, let’s simmer down.”

  I glared at Zen over his shoulder. “She’s the one calling me an immortalist.”

  “Please,” Giguhl said. “You totally are.”

  I shot a glare at my demon. “Watch yourself, G.”

  “I’m just sayin’. She kind of has a point.”

  Zen raised a told-ya-so eyebrow at me. She received double birds in return.

  “Giguhl,” Adam snapped. “You’re not helping.” He pushed Zen toward Brooks while he used his body to scoot me back.

  I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth together. How dare that bitch call me out like that. And, hello? I wasn’t the only one who thought Zen would be a mage. But did she call Adam names? Of course not.

  Adam pulled me into the hallway, slammed the door behind us, and trapped me against a wall. “You need to apologize,” he whispered.

  “What! Like hell I do. She’s the one—”

  He put a hand over my mouth. “Shut up and listen, okay? We need her help. So you’re going to swallow your pride and apologize. Got it?”

  I tried to sear him with my eyes.

  “Sabina, please.” The pleading in his tone was what finally got me. I suddenly missed the old days when I didn’t give a shit about the consequences of losing my temper. But he was right. We needed Zen’s help if we wanted to save Maisie. Besides, I respected Rhea too much to be such a bitch to her friend after she’d gone out of her way to offer help.

  I sucked in a long, slow breath. The inhalation brought both a measure of calm and the heady sandalwood scent of Adam. Closing my eyes, I nodded my surrender. He removed his hand, and when I opened my eyes again I was rewarded with a trademark Lazarus smile. Suddenly I felt a lot better about agreeing to supplicate myself.

  I licked my lips. “Fine, I’ll apologize. But I want the record to reflect that I don’t like her.”

  “Taken and noted,” he said. “But I think she’s okay. We just got off to a bad start.”

  I didn’t share his optimism about Zenobia’s potential but kept that opinion to myself. See? I was already growing. Never let it be said I can’t learn a lesson.