“What the fu—”
Lou latched onto the man, grabbing him hard enough to pull him off his feet.
Then she fell. Straight back into the cold water, slapping its surface hard. Walker coughed in surprise as the water hit his face. But they were already sinking into its dark depths, already passing from his world into Lou’s. There was no going back.
Like the shadows, the water gave way for Lou.
It seemed to wrap itself around her, entwine itself with her body until the murky depths gave way to red waters. The cold to warmth.
The moment Lou knew the transfer was completed, she pushed for the surface, bringing Walker with her.
She released him and started up the clumsy embankment until she was on the barren shore.
Walker stood in waist-deep water, stunned. He regarded the violet twilight sky with its twin moons. The abnormal mountains in the distance, so monumental as to look like a watercolor backdrop spread for decoration only. The strange yellow hue they projected on the red waters of the lake surrounding him.
“I don’t understand,” he said, turning full circle in the shallows. “Am I having a flashback or something?”
“Highly doubt it.”
He waded to the water’s edge, where the black foliage met the patina of Blood Lake, named so—unimaginatively, Lou admitted—because of the color of the water.
He grabbed a palm-sized leaf and began to inspect it. “I ain’t never seen anything like this.”
“You want to die in the water?” Lou asked calmly. She was trying to shake the water out of her boots. She’d never gotten used to the awful way her saturated socks squished between her toes. “Or on land?”
“No,” he said.
A roar echoed through the valley. The rumble was so deep it shook Lou’s core.
Lou smiled.
Walker, on the other hand, had most certainly pissed himself. “The fuck was that?”
“I call her Jabbers,” Lou said plainly. She opened her leather jacket, trying to flap some of the water off its surface. She’d treated it twice to protect the material from her bouts to La Loon, but that didn’t mean she wanted to let the water set in.
“Jabbers?” Walker asked, wiping the water from his face nervously.
“Like the Jabberwocky,” she said. “Have you read Alice in Wonderland?”
“I don’t read.”
“No,” Lou said companionably. “I suspect you were too busy raping children.”
“What?” The first real note of fear seized Ricky’s features.
Then Jabbers emerged from the forest and turned his terror complete.
“My god,” he said. He staggered back as the beast drew herself to her full height. Lou thought she was at least nine feet tall, maybe twelve. “Oh my god, no. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Lou snorted. “Sorry for what?”
“For what I did to those boys. For what I did to my momma. For—for that money I stole and—and anything else I can’t think of right now. I’m sorry for everything. Please take me back. Take me back and I’ll make up for it with every minute of my life. Give me more time. Please. Please.”
His begging confused her. What did Ricky believe? That she was some Angel of Death? Some demon who had brought him to hell for his punishment, and if he only repented, confessed, he could be delivered from evil?
The serpentine creature cast a cursory glance at Lou as if also confused by the man’s pleas.
“He’s all yours,” Lou said, waving her on.
The scream hadn’t even fully formed in Walker’s throat before Jabbers was on him. One foxlike pounce and her widening jaw snapped shut over his neck, severing the head from the body cleanly.
Then she had a leg between her teeth, dragging the rest of him onto shore.
The beast purred affectionately, rolling its eyes up to meet Lou’s over its dinner.
“Yes,” Lou cooed, patting it on the head in much the same manner that she’d scratched the Belgian Malinois earlier in the day. “I missed you, too.”
9
Piper read the address off her phone again as if she hadn’t eaten at this soul food place a hundred times before. Recognizing this for the nervous tick it was, she sighed and forcibly put her phone on the counter. She had twenty minutes to get to the restaurant where she and Dani were meeting for dinner.
Dani. Dinner.
It’s just dinner. It’s not like you’re proposing to the girl who totally ghosted you.
Against her will, her mind replayed last January, when Dani had walked into their lives.
All the make-out sessions in Mel’s storage closet. The way Dani’s eyes had shone in the light the night they watched Henry’s drag show in a Bourbon Street bar.
The way she’d looked in the hospital bed, black and blue after surviving Dmitri’s quest for information about Lou. The way she’d laughed when she’d shown Piper her finger reattached to her hand.
She’d been so sure that Dani was into her, and she’d never misread a girl before. The fact that she’d been so off the mark had shaken her confidence.
What the hell am I going to say?
Piper exhaled slowly, aware that her arms and chest were buzzing with nervous energy. She stared at the laptop on her kitchen counter in front of her. She shifted her weight on the stool as if this would alleviate some tension. It didn’t.
“It’s dinner. Just a meal. Maybe a drink,” she told herself again. “Calm down.”
She bit her lip for focus and reread the discussion board post in her Intro to Policing class. It was due at midnight, so she had better finish it before going to dinner. She reminded herself how important salvaging her GPA was. It had dropped from 3.5 to 2.8 in the semester when her mother had been at her worst. Piper had to get a 4.0 in this class—and every class from now until graduation to pull it up again.
The sharp image of her mother in the dark, dingy room, smoke hanging in the air as track marks ran up the interior of her pallid arm, sparked in her mind.
She blinked, pushing the thoughts away.
Not my circus, not my monkeys, she reminded herself. I’m building my future now. Come on. Focus.
If Lou could have her whole family slaughtered when she was a kid and grow up to be this badass that the whole criminal world fears, you can write a freaking discussion board post. The teacher doesn’t even read them. Just post something already!
She opened her textbook and reread a section before referencing it in her post. She added the citation at the end and—send.
She checked the clock on her phone. Fourteen minutes.
Piper slid off the stool and snatched her puffy black coat off the hook by the door. It took a minute to find her keys and wallet, and she stuffed them into her pockets along with her phone.
The stairs leading from her loft down to King’s office were dark, so she moved carefully, one hand on the wall until she reached the bottom.
The agency was awash in moonlight along the bare wooden floors. The ruckus of the tourists laughing on Royal Street echoed softly through the room, sliding over the bare desks and empty chairs. After double-checking that she’d locked her apartment doors, she locked the office door behind her as well. If someone tried to break in—a disgruntled client or someone looking to sabotage evidence—there was no guarantee they wouldn’t ransack Piper’s apartment, too.
People were assholes. Better safe than sorry.
Pulling her coat around her against the chilly night, she stepped into the throng of partygoers. The scent of alcohol and weed hung in the air. A woman’s robust laughter broke open around her.
Piper did her best to push on. The crush of bodies flooding the Quarter slowed her progress. What should’ve been a quick twelve-minute walk took her twenty minutes. When she arrived, she was late.
“I’m looking for someone. She might be here already,” she said to the hostess, holding the collar of her coat down to be better heard. She caught herself licking her lips, yet another nervous tick
, and refrained.
“That her?” the hostess asked, pulling the pen from her hair and pointing it at a table a couple of rows back.
Dani sat alone. She looked elegant with her hair swept up off her face and a wine glass in hand. She gazed wistfully out the window beside her, watching the people pass. If Piper hadn’t known better, it looked like Dani was going to cry.
Piper tapped the hostess stand. “Yeah, thanks.”
Gathering the last of her bravery, she crossed the restaurant and pulled out the wooden chair opposite Dani’s.
Visible relief washed over the girl’s face the moment the chair screeched across the floor. Dani sat up straighter. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to come.”
“Sorry.” Piper shrugged out of her coat. She hung it off the back of her chair. “I remembered a homework assignment at the last minute, so I wanted to turn it in. Then the crowds slowed me down.”
“You’re back in school?” Dani asked, her hands wrapping around the stem of her wine glass.
Piper spread her hands on the table. “Yeah. I’m taking classes at Delgado. Once I get my GPA up, I’ll transfer somewhere.”
“How in the world do you have two jobs, go to school, and still sleep?”
Piper snorted. “Who said I sleep?”
They shared nervous laughter.
When it died away, Piper said, “I take my classes online. At this rate, it’ll take me about three years just to get the criminal justice associates.”
“That’s still great!” Dani’s enthusiasm seemed forced. “I mean, you’re so busy. You can only do so much.”
Piper nodded. She was glad to be back in school and knew she was doing her best, but she was keenly aware that Dani already had her degree and years of work experience. It was hard not to feel like she was behind.
“So, criminal justice.” Dani had been watching Piper’s face as she talked. When their eyes met, Dani flicked hers away. “You want to be a cop?”
“I was thinking law, actually. You can do a lot with a law degree. Even join the FBI.”
Dani nodded, reaching for the wine bottle in the center of the table. Piper noted it was out of her reach and nudged it forward. When their fingers brushed, a blush spread across Dani’s cheeks.
Piper clasped the back of her neck, rubbing it. “I don’t want to be in a courtroom or anything. But I really enjoy the investigation part. Due process. All that. I’m learning a lot working with King at the agency.”
“What about tarot reading?”
“That’s fun too,” Piper said. “But it’s not a career. No health insurance, you know?”
Piper snorted at her own joke. She also noticed that Dani did not. She seemed a million miles away as she tipped the bottle over to refill her glass. Piper didn’t miss that she filled it to the rim. So much for a six-ounce serving.
“What about you?” Piper asked, hoping to shift the focus away from herself. “You still at The Herald?”
She felt stupid as soon as she’d asked. They both knew she knew Dani was at The Herald.
Dani drank deep from her glass, making a sound that could be taken as a yes.
“I mean, are you happy there?”
“I liked the promotion,” Dani said.
“Right. I saw—” Piper cut herself off from saying I’ve been reading your paper all year, following your stories and looking for your picture. That seemed too desperate. “You were promoted to assistant editor, right?”
“They offered me a permanent column, but I really like investigative reporting. I don’t want to do lifestyle pieces or give advice. Who am I to give advice?”
A nervous laugh escaped her.
Piper noted all this distantly. Her attention was on Dani’s finger, trying to see the scar where Dmitri had cut it, taking it as a trophy. But the candlelit room didn’t offer much light.
Dani caught her staring. “There’s not much of a scar. I got lucky. Well, kind of. PT was a bitch.”
She bent her finger to demonstrate that its mobility was still restricted. It could only fold down half as far as her other fingers.
“I’ve learned how to type without it.” Dani, who’d been sliding down in her chair, straightened again. “It slows me down when it stiffens up.”
The waitress appeared in her white-and-black ensemble, apron tied around her waist. “What can I get y’all tonight?”
“Fried chicken with mustard greens,” Dani said reflexively.
“Same,” Piper parroted. “And cornbread.”
“Anything else to drink, hon?” She looked up from her notepad.
“Can I get a wine glass?” Piper flicked her eyes up to meet Dani’s. “Assuming you don’t mind sharing.”
“Another bottle then?” the waitress asked.
Dani nodded. “Thank you.”
The waitress left them alone, initiating another stretch of awkward silence.
Piper watched Dani gaze out the window for a long time. She saw the dark circles under her eyes and the sunken look of her cheeks.
She’s lost weight. Too much weight.
“How’s the shop?” Dani asked.
“It’s crazy during Carnival. But staying busy is good. Mel gets stressed when there’s not enough money coming in.” It was Piper’s turn to feign enthusiasm. When the bottle of wine and fresh glass appeared, she was able to busy herself with that.
“I bet. And probably no shortage of drunks. And assholes.”
Piper thought of the man who’d harassed Melandra. Despite the stupid feather in his hat and the bone choker tied around his throat—both of which Piper thought were pretty cool—she hadn’t liked the look of him.
“There’s always assholes. Assholes come cheap.”
Dani laughed suddenly, her voice echoing in the wine glass.
“What?” Piper asked.
“Cheap.”
Piper half-smiled. “Are you drunk?”
“I had a bottle of wine before you got here,” Dani admitted, sliding her glass onto the table as if realizing holding it might be a bad idea.
“You drank a whole bottle of wine in eight minutes?”
Dani pulled up her sleeve to reveal a silver watch. “I’ve been here since seven.”
“Why did you come so early?”
“I thought sitting here would help my nerves.” Dani pressed her lips together, searching Piper’s face, as if unsure of what else she should say.
“Why were you nervous?” Oh yeah, let’s pretend I wasn’t freaking out too. Not one bit.
Dani dragged her hands down her face. “I wanted to apologize to you for ghosting you last year. I should’ve at least called or sent a letter or something. What I did was wrong—on so many levels.”
A letter. Piper smirked. What is this, World War Two?
“I realize I never explained what happened, so it must’ve seemed especially shitty to you.”
“I’m just…confused. One minute we were hot and heavy. The next I’m at your bedside in the hospital every day, and when you’re released, I can’t get you to even return a text.”
Dani chewed her lip. “I didn’t want you to think I stopped talking to you just because the case was over—”
“You were doing your job.” Piper shrugged and hoped it looked nonchalant, because she felt anything but. The ache in her chest was building. “I get it. I’m also a workaholic.”
“No, see. Ughhh.” Dani pulled at her face again. “You weren’t just a job.”
“Look, you don’t have to say that—” Piper’s voice broke off the moment she met Dani’s eyes.
They were bright with unshed tears. Her lower lip trembled and she broke the gaze first, looking away to the big picture window beside them and the street beyond it.
“You weren’t just a job,” she said again, looking apologetic. “At least, not by the end of it.”
Piper reached for the wine bottle. “Then it’s even more confusing why you’d stop talking to me. It seems like you talked to everyone
but me. I mean, Lou?” Piper clicked her tongue. “Lou was going to kill you and dump your body…wherever she dumps bodies. How was it easier to talk to her than me?”
Dani laughed. It was a choked, miserable sound.
A couple at the adjacent table glanced over, curious.
“Come on. Don’t cry,” Piper said, shifting in her seat. “People are going to think I’m being mean to you.”
Dani brought her hand to her eyes, delicately dabbing at her lashes. Mascara came off on her fingers. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just tell me what happened.” Piper took another long drink of wine. In case whatever Dani said next turned out to be horrible. That was the thing about asking for the truth. You couldn’t be mad if someone gave it to you.
Dani was clearly mustering up the courage to speak. She licked her wine-stained lips, staring down at her clasped hands on the white linen tablecloth.
“I don’t know where to start,” she admitted, sniffling. “And it just sucked that I was super into you and then I fucked it up. You’ve got no reason to trust me.”
“I might if you told me what happened. Start with when you left the hospital.” It was the last time Piper had seen her.
The waitress appeared with two plates. “Here you go, honey.” She set a plate of steaming fried chicken down in front of Dani. “And one for you too, sugar. Everything look all right?”
Piper made a show of looking the plate over. “It looks amazing, thank you. Can I get some butter for the cornbread?”
“Sure. And hot sauce for the chicken, sweetheart?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Piper accepted the bottle of hot sauce pulled from the waitress’s apron.
“And you, baby?”
“It’s perfect, thanks.” Dani spoke without looking up.
As if sensing the mood of the conversation, the waitress excused herself.
“When I left the hospital, I didn’t sleep for twelve days.”
Piper paused in unwrapping her fork. “What?”
“It took me a while to figure out that it was the apartment keeping me up. That’s where they got me—Dmitri and his guys.” Dani flicked her eyes up as if to gauge Piper’s reaction. “That’s where they…That’s where they started in on me.”
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