Chapter 20
SEBASTIAN
New Orleans comes alive at night, and while the French Quarter is really the place to be, the Marigny district has its own merits. Once the streets are mostly shrouded in shadow, Rune and I waste no time in heading out from Elysian.
The sun still halos the horizon, but with the lampposts lining the way, flicking on one by one, the neighborhood breathes with a life of its own.
Laughter spills from bustling cafes, and the aroma of Cajun spices wafts from open doors.
Street musicians add their melodies to the symphony of the night, creating a harmony that continues to build with every passing block.
Even the shadows here seem to pulse to the seductive melodies echoing from the heart of the city square.
I used to love the vibrancy of New Orleans—the crowds of people, the infectious energy, the ease of grabbing a human off the street for a quick snack. Now it only serves to annoy me.
All the tourists cluttering up the streets.
All the boisterous drunks acting like idiots.
One of those idiotic drunks stumbles his way into me, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes.
“Oops. M’bad.” The human reaches out to steady me though he is the one who nearly falls on his uncoordinated ass. “Careful where you’re walkin’, bro.”
My nose wrinkles when his stale whiskey breath wafts in my face.
I pull my lips back, baring my fangs, and hiss.
He startles backward, trips over himself, and lands on his ass at the entrance to a French breakfast spot. His fear permeates the air and I revel in it. Leaning down to ensure he gets a good look at my red eyes, I give him a second up-close-and-personal view of my fangs. “Careful who you shove into on these streets. Bro.”
“Jesus H. Christ!” He scrambles back, but I’ve already lost interest. The stench of urine soaking through his jeans has ruined the mood.
I leave the human to his yelling and get back to my night.
Rune snickers as he walks at my side. “He’s going to spout off to everyone about the demon that attacked him in NOLA.”
“No one will believe some inebriated nobody yammering about vampires and demons.”
Manon’s ghostly figure solidifies in front of me, a smirk on her red lips. “It wasn’t very good-natured of you, darling. I thought you wanted to be a better man now that you have your little witch to play with?”
I wave her away and let the music lead the way to my destination like a siren’s call.
Josephine is far from my little witch. Finn and Rune have staked their claims and made their intentions clear, but other than that one moment when she barged into my suite, we’ve never shared a civil word.
Although…she swore she’d work on breaking the curse. That gives me the first glimmer of hope I’ve had in decades. Since Celine cast it, maybe Josephine can undo it.
The tune swells and draws me along in its wake. Manon follows, and I do my best to pretend she’s not there. I have to play it cool because Rune is watching me out of the side of his eye.
“You good, Bas?”
“Never better.”
My denial works—for a block, maybe two.
It’s difficult to keep my sire at bay when she’s being insistent, and she’s been more and more insistent as time passes. By the time we reach Sloane’s lounge, my sire’s voice is all I hear, a constant buzzing in my head.
“Why are you denying your nature, Sebastian? The male I made would’ve torn that human’s throat out and swallowed his blood down in heaving gulps.”
He was pickled. I like to drink my whiskey first-hand, thanks.
“If you stop restraining yourself, you might snap out of this funk you’re in.”
“Fuck off,” I growl.
“What the fuck did I do?” Rune gives me a sideways glare.
“Nothing. Forget it.” I slow my stride and let him get a few yards ahead of me.
Manon flashes me a pout. “Why do you pander to others, darling? You’re the king, for goddess’ sake.”
“Why do you care? Leave me alone.”
“I care because you’re my creation. I’m the only one who knows the real you.”
“No. You’re dead and you need to fuck off.”
Shit.The longer Manon is around, the more she burrows into my psyche, erasing me bit by bit. “I won’t let you drag me into madness with you.”
Manon opens her mouth, but it isn’t her voice that comes out.
“It’s too late, dude.”
I spin and glare at the three humans snickering behind me.
“Ben, shut up.” The middle human smacks his friend, eyeing me warily before averting his gaze.
Smart move.
The mouthpiece doesn’t read the situation, and his gums keep flapping. “Why? The dude’s right bonkers. He’s talking to the freaking air for crying out loud.”
The humans walking past give us a wide berth as I growl. I’m tempted to show them a taste of what New Orleans is really like when the sun goes down—no holding back this time.
“Do it.” Manon’s voice is silky sweet as she whispers in my ear. “It’s only nature running its course. They are prey.”
“Sebastian? Everything okay here?” Rune’s voice is steady and anchors me back to myself.
“Of course.” I take a step back and release my clenched fists. “I was just about to warn these boys to be careful not to draw unwanted attention. We have all manner of things that go bump in the night here in NOLA. Safety first and all that.”
I flash them a cruel smile but keep the tips of my fangs from showing. It would be ecstasy to tear into the pulsing vein of their carotid arteries—to feel the moment their lives drain into me.
Hunting in the streets is an indulgence I haven’t allowed myself in many years. If I were to give in now, I don’t know how many bodies would litter the streets before I was satiated.
Lucky for the humans, my night is fully booked.
With a gentle nudge from Rune, the two of us get moving once more. Manon is gone. Hopefully, she’ll remain gone for the remainder of the night.
My conversation with Sloane will go better if I’m in my right mind. And, maybe, if things go smoothly enough, I can leave here tonight with my cock intact.
Not that it would be a huge loss—the stupid thing has been nonfunctional for over two decades.
We walk the rest of the way in silence and only stop when we are standing under the neon sign.
Moonlit Serenade.
The sign above the entrance of the speakeasy lounge glows in bold letters, but that is the only bold thing about the exterior of Sloane’s establishment. But, as underwhelming as it is, in this case, looks are quite deceiving.
Inside, the muffled laughter of her patrons spills into the night and envelops me as Rune ushers me through the open door.
I don’t have to search long to find Sloane.
She lives for the spotlight—for attention.
Since becoming a vampire and losing access to her magic and connection to her goddess, she’s a sorceress in a different sense now—capturing her audience night after night.
With a voice and body like hers, she entrances her guests, packing the place and making a small fortune.
“There, Bas. Take that table opening up and I’ll be at the bar when you’re done.”
I slide through the crowd and claim the highboy table Rune pointed to, my attention firmly captivated by the former witch.
The lounge pulses with the infectious beat, and Sloane’s movements are equally infectious.
With every sway and dip, she embodies the essence of the jazz age, so much that it’s hard to believe she wasn’t turned in the early nineteen hundreds and instead a mere twenty-five years ago.
As the last notes of the jazzy tune echo through the lounge, Sloane takes a graceful bow. Applause erupts, and Sloane basks in the adoration.
Descending from the stage, the woman’s gaze scans the crowd and finds me. Surprise flickers on her face, quickly replaced by curiosity and a simmering resentment.
She arrives at my table, her full lips parting in a wry smile as she slides into the seat opposite me. “Well, well, well. It must be my lucky day. Come to get that procedure we discussed last time, I assume?”
She’s referring to her charming threat that if she were ever to lay eyes on me again, she would rip off my cock.
“What would I get from that deal?”
She chuckles. “I’m surprised you can even joke about it, Sebastian. Most men would never tempt fate when it comes to their manhood.”
“I’m not most men.”
The hateful look she flashes me would mortally wound me if looks could kill. “No. You’re in a class all your own.”
And she doesn’t mean my royal class.
“I see the rumors are true. You’ve found yourself in a unity bond with another Dumont witch. How amusing.” Sloane’s gaze narrows as she studies my reaction.
“I assume you can smell her on me?”
“The witch’s magic clings to you like her own personal brand of perfume.”
“I haven’t fed from Josephine. The bond is yet to be completed.”
Sloane throws her head back, laughing. “As if that will stop Gaia’s will. Sebastian, the unity bond has you in its grip. Whether you feed from her or not…whether you fight it or not…it will continue to solidify your bond.”
“Unless there was a way to sever the bond.”
She chuckles. “There’s not. The unity bond between a witch and her vampire or werewolf is for life. I’m surprised Mother Gaia has given you a second chance after what happened the last time.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you like to tell yourself that at night when you’re wallowing in a glass of cognac.”
“I do, but it’s also the truth. Have you heard about Adelaide?”
She lifts one shoulder. “I’m not part of the coven phone tree anymore, so no.”
“She’s dead—at my hand.”
The woman straightens and the first real flair of emotion crosses her beautiful face. “You killed the High Priestess of the Sun Witches?”
“I did. She betrayed your sisters. She hired Egan to snuff out the Dumont line so she could take control as the one in charge. When Josephine returned, she and Egan came after her again.”
“You’re lying.”
“Not even a little.”
She studies my expression for a long time and frowns. “Adelaide worked with the wolves to kill Celine?”
“She did. She admitted it before her death. There were witnesses, if you don’t believe me.”
Sloane shakes her head. “The fucking bitch. In the chaos after the ritual, we turned to Celine to help us through. When she refused your bond and turned up dead, we all thought you killed her.”
“I told you all I didn’t.”
She looks at me and exhales a long breath. “Like we’d ever believe you.”
Right. Because I’m the monster here.
“What does this have to do with me?”
I lean forward and lower my voice. “Egan is after the witchstones created the night of the Unity Ritual, and we believe he’ll try to gain control over the entire city. I want to know where you stand.”
She laughs. “You want me to choose between you and Egan?”
“Not choose, necessarily. I want to know how you’d lean if it came down to a war.”
Sloane taps her ebony fingernails against the surface of the table. “If what you say is true…”
“It is.”
“If it is, then I will stand for the witches. Egan is a brutal dog who abuses not only his power but the bonds of his pack and his Moon Witches. You are a narcissistic asshole with a god complex, but you don’t torture the Sun Witches.”
“So, the lesser of two evils, then?”
“Only by a small margin.”
To be lumped into the same category as a mutt like Egan is hard to stomach, but I’m in no position to argue and I don’t want to set her off before I get to the next part of our conversation.
After a long moment, Sloane’s gaze meets mine. “All right. I’ve given you my answer. Why are you still sitting here, taking up one of my tables?”
Her dismissal is obvious, but unless I truly am crazy, there is a touch less heat in her pale green gaze. “What do you want, Sebastian?”
I draw a deep breath and go for it. “I need to talk to you about a witch’s death curse.”