Page 95 of Samhain Savior
I tried not to swoon; he was so handsome when he was cranky.
“Because you’ve already found what you were looking for.”
Mal’s words hung in the air, their significance wiping the scowl off Archer’s face and replacing it with a look of shock I could feel rippling through our bond.
“Indeed, I have.” The low words curled around me, stoking a fire deep in my belly.
Before I could speak—as if I had any idea what to say—Vine cut in, his impatience to get to food once again coming before everything else.
“So where do we find this Murmur, anyway? It’s been a hot minute since we’ve been to the Bayou, so I don’t exactly know my way around anymore.”
“Two hundred years is a bit more than a hot minute, Vine,” Corson drolled, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.
“I’ve been busy!” Vine insisted indignantly.
In the distance, the sound of a trumpet cut through the quiet of the morning, the sharp, bright notes sending the roosting pigeons flocking into the sky. The firsttrumpet was quickly joined by a second, the two instruments harmonizing in a way that was almost haunting. As the mournful music drew closer, I could see that it was a pair of demons, their gray skin looking wan in the watery morning sun. Dressed in full Mardi Gras regalia, they wore suits and sashes in purple and gold, the bright, traditional colors of New Orleans. They kept coming, two lone figures walking down the empty street, and I stared in shock as they passed right by us, full demon forms on display for all to see. They paused only for a moment, their eyes narrowed and their tails flicking impatiently before they turned and continued down the street, their solemn song hanging in the air and leaving us standing in their wake, mouths agape.
“I guess that’s our escort,” Corson said, clapping a hand on Vine’s back as he started after the demon duo. “Last one there has to buy the beignets.”
“Fuck that,” Vine exclaimed, taking off at a jog to catch up to the trumpet players, whose song had changed to a much jauntier tune now that we were following them.
“Come, witch,” Archer said, gesturing me to take my place in our little group, behind Mal but ahead of Archer, where he could keep an eye on me and also watch our backs.
It was something I’d noticed in the time we’d spent together; Archer took his role as the leader seriously, and part of that meant not necessarilyleadingat all. He constantly took up the rear position, as though he needed to have all of his charges in sight, protecting them from anyone or anything that might sneak up on them.
And, apparently, that now included me.
We walked in silence, the trumpet players continuing their music as we moved through the French Quarter, passing famous shops and tourist destinations on all sides. Even though neither of us spoke, I could feel Archer’s emotions through the bond, giving me a sense of where his head was at. Sifting through the flow of feelings to try and determine which were his and which were mine was still tricky, but if I focused, I could sense a cautious determination that I was almost certain was all him.
That, and a ravenous hunger, most of which, I was sure, wasn’t for food at all, but for me.
Rolling my lips together, I tried to hide both my smile, and the rush of lust that shot through me when I realized Archer was thinking about our night together, and planning for another just like it in the future.
His low, throaty growl told me I was less than successful.
The demon trumpet players stopped before a gorgeous old building, three stories high and wrapped on all sides byintricate wrought iron balconies. The sign out front saidHullabaloo Jazz Club, and boasted a cartoon devil lit up in bright red neon lights. The little demon was playing a trumpet for all he was worth, tail curling behind him as he grinned down at me from above the door.
It was freaking adorable.
Making our way inside, I blinked against the sudden darkness, noticed that the club’s windows were all painted black from the inside, blocking out not just the light, but any prying eyes, as well.
Moving into the building, I held my hands out, cautiously feeling ahead before I took a step.
“You guys might not need any light,” I muttered in annoyance. Planting my hands on my hips, I huffed. “But I can’t see a thing.”
Immediately, the place was flooded with light as every bulb and candle in the place flared to life at the same time, bathing us in a golden glow. Looking around, I could see that we were standing in the middle of a gorgeous, turn of the century bar.
Shit. Had that been me? Looking down at my hands, I felt the surge of power flowing through me, both shocking and exhilarating. I’d needed to be able to see, sure, but I hadn’tconsciouslythought about turning on the lights.
Archer placed a hand on my shoulder, and I looked back to see him staring down at me, the bond now leaking concern and caution into my chest.
The new power I was contending was more than a little disconcerting, and I knew I’d have to be very careful until I got a handle on it.
“Damn, bestie,” Vine said, giving a low whistle. “You’re really letting it fly now, aren’t you.”
“I—”
“Well, well, well,” came a feminine voice like dark velvet. “You want to tell me who thought it was a good idea to drag a wanted witch across my dance floor?”
