Page 18 of Spooks & Specters

Jamail slowly shook his head. “My ol’ man was killed several years ago, and the bitch who had me is an addict.”

Sad, but that seemed to be the story of the people who lived there. “So, your gang is your family.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter Three

“AND ARE you still willing to come work for me?”

Jamail hesitated for several minutes before finally nodding. Instead of pissing her off that he considered the matter, she appreciated that he took the time to truly think about his answer. That showed a maturity she wasn’t sure he had at his age.

“Good. Then I’ll meet you back here tomorrow night at exactly the same time. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do whatever you have to do to escape your gang, and bring only what you can’t bear to part with. Believe me when I tell you, if they show up and try to stop me from taking you, I will kill them all. Understood?”

Jamail gulped. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”

“Until tomorrow night, then.” Isadora opened her vehicle door and got in.

Jamail was still standing where she left him when she drove off. She wondered if he’d be standing there tomorrow when she returned. Something told her he would.

Isadora’s home was an abandoned building next to her restaurant that she’d converted for her own personal use. The bottom level was her parking garage, and the top level was the living space.

Her territory was her restaurant, Beau Monde, and her home. Certain paranormals formed groups and had territory that they claimed as theirs. The daemons were one such group, as well as dragons, gargoyles, and most werewolves.

Isadora and her kind were the oddballs because they didnotcollect land and people. Well, okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She did have a few people—most of the staff at her restaurant belonged to her, and she did take care of them.

But she didn’t have guards, betas, or right hands. Or whatever the other paranormals called their second-in-command. Frankly, she didn’t need them.

Jamail would be her errand boy and work at the restaurant until she said otherwise. Or he died because of stupidity. Hopefully, that wouldn’t happen. He’d survived living on the streets. If Jamail showed up tomorrow night, she’d get him settled, and then she’d have him take her vehicle and get it repaired.

It’d be his first test. If he ran off with it, she’d hunt the little punk down and drain him.

THE NEXT night Isadora was back, and Jamail was waiting for her. This pleased her. It did not please her that his worldly belongings fit into one duffel bag. She had expected him to pack light, but that was just ridiculous. The boy had absolutely nothing.

He didn’t realize how much his life was about to change.

Isadora pulled next to him, parked, and popped the trunk. Jamail threw his duffel into the back, shut the trunk, and got in the passenger side.

“Hello, Jamail.” Isadora checked the rearview mirror, then pulled out onto the street.

Since Jamail was from here, she was going to have to find another area to hunt when the time came. At least for a little while. She was certain her vehicle had been made, since it’d been here two nights in a row.

“Ma’am.”

“Buckle up, please.” She might as well start as she intended to go, and one of the first things Jamail was going to start doing was obeying the human laws. She didn’t need the police mucking around in her business.

The human still stank of fear. She assumed that was going to continue for a while yet. He might not ever get totally over his fear of her, and that was okay.

“Did you have any problems leaving?”

“No ma’am, and no one said nothin’ to me.”

“You didn’t tell anybody?”

“No, ma’am. You told me not to.”

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