Adam thought about it for a moment, his eyes on the fridge. While he pondered, Stryx kept up his berserker act. The cage squealed across the floor like nails down a chalkboard. Finally, the damned thing hit the edge of the cage so hard it slammed into Adam’s foot. The mage yowled and jumped. I bent down to look at his foot and found a new hole in his boot leather courtesy of the aforementioned beak. The owl stilled. Then something that sounded specifically like an evil cackle rose up from the cage.

I glanced at Adam with an eyebrow raised. He scowled down at me like a judge handing down an order of execution. “Put the fucking bird in the fridge already.”

11

The next evening, we all gathered in the shop. Giguhl catnapped on the counter. In deference to his desire to be more involved, we’d come to an agreement about him staying in cat form while in the public areas.

Zen and Brooks discussed inventory over by a display of voodoo dolls. I leaned against the counter, chugging cow’s blood, and tried to shake the fog out of my head. Adam stood bleary-eyed behind the counter, nursing his coffee.

I wrinkled my nose at the cloying scent wafting up from the cat. “Giguhl, do you really need to wear that thing down here?” He wore a red chamois bag attached to his cat collar. Zen had anointed it with jasmine oil, which alone might have been okay, but mixed with sandalwood, comfrey, and gods only knew what else, the aroma was overpowering.

The cat perked open one eye. “Don’t take your grumpiness out on me. It’s not my fault the stupid owl screeched all night.”

I scowled at the cat and took another swig of caffeine. My idea of sticking Stryx in the fridge the night before hadn’t been so brilliant, after all. The box kept him contained, all right, but instead of dampening the incessant banging and offended screeches, the hollow box amplified the racket. It hadn’t been so bad in my bedroom, since I could close the door. But the racket forced Adam and Giguhl out of the living room and into my bed. Around five a.m, they burst in and took over despite my vehement protests. I finally gave up when Adam reminded me that putting the bird on ice had been my idea. Therefore, I’d spent the majority of the day wedged in between a hot mage and a snoring demon.

Zen walked over and interrupted my grumpy woolgathering. “I take it you still haven’t figured out how to communicate with the owl?”

Adam sighed and set down his mug. “No. I tried to talk to it before we came down, but he wouldn’t stop hissing and scratching. You’d think he’d run out of steam at some point, but—” He shrugged and shook his head.

Zen pursed her lips. “Have you considered asking the spirits for help?”

“That’s not exactly my area,” Adam said. “But we’re open to suggestions.”

I leaned with my elbows on the counter, both eager to hear the voodooienne’s ideas and resentful that we needed a human’s help to find my sister. However, the sad fact was, despite my mage heritage, I knew very little about magic. Sure, I’d had some preliminary training from Rhea, but the sum total of my skills included summoning Giguhl and the ability to immolate my enemies with my eyes. While the latter option held great appeal where Stryx was concerned, I wasn’t ready to give up on the possibility he could help us find Maisie.

“I think I might have an idea,” Zen said. “A few years ago one of my clients had a relative in a coma. Very sad.” She paused to make sympathetic noises. “Anyway, the client asked me to summon a spirit to communicate with the unconscious girl. I was thinking we might be able to use the same idea with the owl.”

Adam stood up straighter. “You mean have the spirit read Stryx’s mind?”

She shrugged. “Why not? It’s worth a shot, right?”

“What exactly would we need to do?” Having no practical knowledge of voodoo, I was worried the ritual might involve goat sacrifice or something.

Zen chewed her lip. “It’s a bit tricky. We’d need to use the body of a recently deceased person as a medium for the spirit.”

“And how exactly do you propose we get our hands on one of those?” Adam asked.

Zen smiled. “I have my ways. It’s gonna have to happen tomorrow night, though, before Halloween.”

I frowned. “Why not on Halloween?”

“Because then the portal to the spirit world will be wide open, and things could get unpredictable,” Rhea said.

Adam looked at me with his eyebrows raised in question. I said, “This ritual doesn’t involve me having to drink any potions or anything, right?”

Zen frowned and shook her head. “Of course not.”

Given my past horrors with vomit-inducing potions, I had good reason to ask. But maybe it was a mage thing to make people miserable with potions. arriving in New York for magical training, I’d had two embarrassing incidents. The first happened when Rhea’s turncoat assistant, Damara, had tried to poison me with a mixture of strychnine and apple juice. My vampire genes protected me from the poison, and my mixed blood saved me from the forbidden fruit, but nothing prevented me from blowing chunks all over the Hekate Council. The second event happened during a vision-quest Rhea insisted I do to find my magical path. The hallucinogenic tea she’d given me led to a very unpleasant half hour before the freaky Chthonic visions began.

But Zen’s expression held no hint of guile. And if it meant we’d get Maisie back ASAP, I could deal with a little irritable bowel syndrome again. “Done and done.”

Zen nodded. “Good. I’ll make preparations. The ritual is best conducted before midnight, so we should head out about ten tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Adam said. “Thanks, Zen.”

She started to walk away but stopped short. “By the way, are you planning on going by Alodius’s place again anytime soon?”

I frowned. “Why? Do you need something?”

She nodded. “Some chicken feet. With Halloween the day after tomorrow, the tourists have been buying charms like crazy. I’d go tonight myself, but the widow Breaux needs me to come undo a hex.”

Across the store Brooks snorted. “Again? That’s the third time this year.”

“It’s her own damn fault for stepping out with other women’s men. But her checks always clear, so …..”

“That’s okay, Zen,” Adam said. “We can pick up some chicken feet for you.”

She smiled at the mage. “Thanks, Adam.” She waved and walked off toward the office.

I swallowed my opinion of Adam’s ass kissing along with my last swing of coffee. Just as I was setting down my mug, the door to the shop opened.

“Hey, Mac!” Brooks called.

“Hey, good lookin’,” she called to the fae before approaching the counter. We all exchanged tense nods. “You guys got a minute?”

I frowned, wondering what had the werewolf looking so upset. “Sure.”

Mac looked over her shoulder to where Brooks was dusting some chicken bones. When she glanced back at me she said under her breath, “Alone.”

“Of course,” I said to her. I called, “Hey, Brooks, we’re going to go out back for a minute. Do you mind if Giguhl stays here?”

The cat lifted his head sleepily. “Huh?”

“No problemo,” Brooks said.

“Go back to sleep, G.”

The cat licked his lips and yawned before resting his head back on his paws. I held a hand out to Mac to lead the way. As Adam fell into step beside me, he shot me a concerned look. I shrugged. We’d find out soon enough what was on the were’s mind.

We went out the back door into the courtyard behind Zen’s shop. A small fountain bubbled along the west wall. The festive, but thankfully muted, sounds of Bourbon Street added to the soundtrack.

Once we were all seated around the table in the center of the courtyard, Mac finally spoke. “I have some news that might interest you.”

She didn’t mention that the contact was her girlfriend, even though from what I’d seen she clearly was, but I didn’t blame her for not going there. It wasn’t our business.

Until it was.

Mac pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. “Not sure if it’s important, but I thought I’d pass it along. My vamp contact told me some bigwig just bought a mansion in the Garden District.”

“And?” Since I’d been expecting something bigger, I tried to put a leash on my impatience.

“And several murders have occurred in the area. The police are calling them ‘stabbings,’ but the wounds are all in the neck. So unless someone’s stabbing tourists with grilling forks …..” She shrugged. “Plus all the work on this house has been done at night. During the day the place is totally dead and there are blackout curtains on all the windows.”

“Hmm.” Sounded like a stretch to me— until I glanced at the address. “Wait. Prytania Street?” I shot a meaningful glance at Adam. Back in New York, the mage headquarters in Manhattan was called Prytania Place.

“Does that mean something to you?” Mac asked.

“Maybe,” Adam said with a shrug.

I tucked the address in my jeans pocket. “Thanks, Mac. We’ll head over there in a few.”

She inclined her head. “I’ll let you know if I find anything else out.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you might be willing to set up a meeting with your contact.”

Her eyes went all suspicious. “Why?”

I leaned forward, trying to ease her sudden tension. “We appreciate your help. It’s just that maybe if I could talk to this friend vampire-to-vampire, I might be able to see if there’s anything she’s overlooked.”

Mac shook her head. “I don’t think she’d agree to that.”

“Why not?” Adam asked, his voice quiet.

Mac’s eyes shifted left. “She doesn’t want any trouble.”

“Look, Mac, the fact is that if this vampire we’re looking for really is in town— maybe even in this house you told us about— trouble has come to New Orleans. And sooner or later it’s going to find your friend.”