Page 16 of Unshakable

Henri’s palms itchedas he gripped the steering wheel, easing his rental sedan onto the interstate, pointed toward New Orleans. The mid-morning sun glinted off the mirror, into his eyes for a fleeting second. He squinted into the glare, to ensure he’d been followed.

He had.

Excellent.

Adrenaline raced up his long spine and zipped through his limbs, tripping up the rhythm of his multi-chambered heart. Maybe this being had come specifically for him, not the girl.

Regardless of his rhetoric to Toula Thibodeaux, he always enjoyed sparring with a worthy opponent. As a being with a certain sense of longevity, chasing demons and the occasional wayward human monster moved his blood.

This isn’t what we were sent to do.

Michael argued with him on this issue, several times. Henri wanted to do good in the world whenever possible. Not because of any rumored redemption.

Because doing the right thing was its own reward and sometimes its own punishment. He understood, in general theory, what they had originally been sent to do for mankind In the Beginning.

Help.

At least this arrogant Fallen took his bait. Henri had waited in his room, prepared if any attack came overnight, if one could ever be prepared for personal annihilation.

No, this Fallen wanted information, or, at the very least, for Henri to lead the way to Toula and her granddaughters. This one liked the path of least resistance, an odd laziness for someone on a generational woman-hunt.

Or maybe, if he’d already located the family, he wanted only to eliminate any support and protection before he did whatever he needed to do with them.

So many options, so little time.

Henri frowned and turned the radio down, to help himself think. Toula hadn’t gone into detail about why or how this monster attacked her family across generations. Perhaps she didn’t know. Henri assumed he meant to wreak death and destruction, per usual. Maybe not. Maybe he needed something else from them entirely.

Maybe the Fallen would simply tell him about his scheme, if asked. Hollywood didn’t get much right as far as the spiritual realm, yet the joke about how ‘bad guys’ talked too much wasn’t far from the truth.

Henri’s goals for the day changed.

He pressed on the accelerator, anxious to be in the city as quickly as possible, to allow this being to corner him in a very public place where they could engage in a friendly conversation about their historical and present-day motives.

Maybe the Fallen would be more forthcoming than Toula about their generational entwinement. He definitely knew more, although his knowledge might be better called instinct.

Wasting no time, he settled into the fast lane and pushed his way to the outskirts of New Orleans. He’d been to the city several times over the years, and being a weekend, looked to the French Quarter to provide the population cover he needed.

After parking, he fed the parking meter and eased into the flow of pedestrian traffic, headed into the heart of the historic district. No chance of losing his hunter, as he stood at least head and shoulders taller than anyone around him.

Brennan’s would do, as the storied eatery likely hosted stranger pairings over the years. Henri entered the big pink restaurant and had to wait only a few minutes before being seated, well ahead of the lunch rush.

The Fallen loitered outside the door, uninvited, pacing like a panther.

Henri smiled, caught his sharp eye, and motioned him inside, the surprise on his face enough to make Henri chuckle. Taking an immortal being off guard didn’t happen often.

As the Fallen joined him inside, the hostess directed Henri toward a table. He didn’t wait to see if he’d been followed. He assumed as much and was not disappointed.

Settling into his chair, he lifted his gaze to meet his adversary’s. “I thought it time we meet.”

Henri watched the Fallen’s polluted aura contract and expand, as if flexing preternatural muscles. The face, the body, flawless perfection, like a movie star. Of average height and build, the being sported jet black hair, and amber, piercing eyes, like a hungry wolf.

Directed right at Henri.

His lips curved upward in a beautiful, beguiling smile. “Breaking bread, are we? Tell me, Grigori, are you even hungry?”

Henri felt smitten, in awe of being in the presence of such a glorious physicality. He could only imagine how overwhelmed a naïve young woman might feel receiving such focused attention from such a gorgeous creature. “What name do you use?”

A long beat passed between them, while the being considered his options. Did he even breathe? Henri saw no evidence, no rise and fall of his chest.

Astounding.

In one fluid movement, the Fallen seemed to decide, and extended his hand, which Henri grasped with enthusiasm. “Kamen Tourelle.”

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