Chapter 5

5

When I exited Mr. X’s lair, rusty iron and pungent creosote were the first scents to hit me, which signaled train tracks. I followed that odor right through the industrial quarter on the hunt to score the best burger in Baton Rouge. Since I had just emerged from a recovery sleep, not even the trusty ‘ol Taco Shack was going to cut it this time.

No one handled red meat like Spencer, and his namesake, while still just a food truck, harbored unbeatable post-healing meals. It didn’t hurt that Spence kept feeding me despite my pack exile status.

The first time he beckoned me to his truck was after my exile. He forced a free blue cheese and bacon burger on me and said, “Your stomach has no idea that you don’t shift. Neither does a dead cow.”

Spencer couldn’t legally hire me as an exile, but he handed me free food for three weeks, as often as needed—until I landed my first gig. And once I built on that first finding, I got my feet under me and could purchase my own food.

It was a kindness I wouldn’t forget.

A few blocks later, I rounded the corner onto Third Street, and there sat the rusty, chipped-paint food truck with a tattered brown and gold striped awning—featuring a line that stretched half a mile long up to the maw of the service window. I jogged around the line while ignoring the glares from salivating patrons.

“Hey, Spence, will there be anything left when you’re through the line?” I asked as I leaned near the window of the truck.

Spence peeked around the kid who took orders—some new guy I hadn’t met yet. He might not know who I was or that, according to pack rules, he wasn’t supposed to talk to me.

I glanced up at the kid, who flashed me a cheeky smile.

“So, is this the girlfriend you’ve been hiding from us? She doesn’t look like too much trouble to me.”

I laughed as Spence smacked him lightly on the back of his skull. Emily, Spence’s girl, was a human turned werewolf from an attack. She didn’t hang with the pack as much as Spence would like. It would make sense this new kid didn’t know her.

“Tend to the customers. Elena is a friend, and none of this is your business.” He jerked his head toward me, and I walked around to the back of the truck, where he stepped out and handed me a brown paper bag that shined around the corners with grease. “You didn’t get this from me, you hear?”

“Mum’s the word.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You rattled some cages, Len. Watch your six, and if you need anything, text first. The less pack-folk you cross paths with, the better, at least until whatever crawled up the Alpha’s ass cools off.”

“Yeah, he was pretty mad when he threw me into the bayou. It’s gonna take a minute, I think.” I hefted the bag gently and grinned. “Hey. You threw in extra fries.”

“You could tell?” he said with a laugh.

“I can always tell, Spence. And I always, always appreciate you.” I tucked my free arm around him and squeezed. “I don’t deserve your friendship, but I never take it for granted.”

He leaned in as he hugged me.

“I had the biggest crush on you in middle school,” he whispered.

I laughed and leaned into the hug. “I’m glad I didn’t do anything stupid then, making it so we can’t be friends now.”

He kept his voice low. “Not everyone thinks that every tradition is necessary—or right—you know.”

I sucked in a breath, and my stomach grumbled. “Thanks. It feels better than you’d know to hear that. I’ll lie low and check in with you later, okay?”

He kissed my temple. “Get lost, Len. You don’t fit my clientele.” Spence’s grin widened as he stepped back and winked.

I saluted him. “You got it, Boss.“

The day began to look up with the aroma of hot French fries, salt, and American cheese floating from my paper bag and filling my nostrils. I strolled to my apartment on the other end of Third, snacking on mouth-watering, tongue-blistering fries.

I stood before my downtown Third Street apartment, basking in the sights, scents, and sounds of home. This part of the street has storefronts jammed under second floors containing apartments, but these older buildings were a dying breed as gentrification and commercial development took them over.

The delicious aroma of George’s Barbecue wafted in my direction. Spence’s mate worked evenings there. From above came the tortured strains of little Patrick Leland practicing piano on his electric keyboard and newborn Princess Millie crying for whatever reasons an infant cries.

I understand, kid.

“Hello, Miss Elena.” Bernie White shuffled toward me. “Late night working?”

“You could say that. How’s that elbow?” Bernie was mugged right outside our building one night. Chas maced one guy while I kneecapped the other with a swift kick. Those boys hadn’t come back to bother the elderly.

“Fine, Elena, thanks to you gals. When is Miss Chastity coming back from her visit with her mamaw? I could use some of that pain relief salve of hers?”

People looked to Chastity for her Voodin remedies for common ailments. She made house calls and wouldn’t take money from the poor. When I asked why, she waved her hand and said she earned enough from love potions to cover the cost of ingredients.

“Tomorrow, I think. I’ll have to check. But I’ll give her your order when she walks through the door.”

“I’d appreciate it. And just to let you know, the people around here appreciate you, too, Miss Elena. Mrs. Bonet was telling me that since you and Miss Chastity moved in, those uglies that go bump in the night haven’t been around. I noticed it, too.”

“You can’t credit us with that, Mr. White. We’re just two simple gals trying to make it in the big city.”

He laughed. “Sure. I better move along. Mrs. Pierce is making me lunch today.”

“Have a good one.” I said with a wave.

I walked down the driveway to the back of the building to get to the entrance of my apartment. Mr. White was right. Chastity and I were the unofficial Community Watch with a side order of paranormal protection for our little neighborhood.

I’ve learned much about witchcraft and Voodin beliefs since Chas and I moved in together. She provided me with safe harbor when word on the street was that I was untouchable. Much like Spence, she’s always hated the clannishness of the different factions and wished we could all just get along.

If only.

So around town, she’s known as Switzerland. If you need magic and want the best and to be safe from bias? You come to my bestie.

But for me, the magic is free. Just like I can’t help finding things, she must use magic, or it starts slipping out unexpectedly. So at home, we work together to keep from coming apart at the seams. Regular practice of our “gifts” as Chas calls them and using them together to strengthen us and serve our community has been one of the best parts of leaving the pack.

Kye knew it and hated our friendship. If it were up to him, I’d be dead and a non-issue. Not so fast with my gal pal around. There would be a host of Voodoo practitioners on their asses if Chastity said so.

Lucky for Kye, she hasn’t.

The back of my neck prickled, meaning someone had eyes on me, so I kept my head on swivel mode and kept the burger in the bag until I reached my door. I decided to stay away from Mr. X’s lair for now, but he will be after me soon if I didn’t return of my own volition.

“All right, you ragamuffins, I’m home, and I’ll water you as soon as I get something in my belly.” I gently patted the potted fern on the table by the door and dropped my keys next to it. The apartment smelled like strangers, but it made sense, considering Mr. X’s employees came here to gather my things.

I scrunched my nose. Still, the psychic impressions screamed that my space had suffered multiple invasions, and for a hot second, I wished I had no magical abilities. Then I could have simply walked inside my door and pushed aside the thought that someone else had been in my home.

By someone else, I don’t mean my roommate, who thankfully went to New Orleans to visit her grandma for the week. No, I meant people I don’t know, beings who stunk up the place.

A thud sounded from the bathroom twenty feet away. I froze and held my breath.

Well, shit, I sure wished I had a cat right now.

I’ll have to talk to Chastity about how no self-respecting witch should be without one.

“I’m no witch,” Chastity would chide. “I am a Voodin priestess. Respect the religion.”

And I’d laugh. “Witch. Voodoo priestess. Is there a difference?”

She’d glare at me while I found something on the television to watch.

I set my greasy bag of goodness on the coffee table in the living room and fell into a crouch, my hand automatically reaching for the knife I no longer carried, the knife Kye probably still had. The fucker. Part of me wanted to call out, see if it was another of Mr. X’s people who stuck around, but then I got a whiff of that haunting, familiar scent that churned my stomach.

Kye.

Not fresh. My ex wasn’t the one hiding in my bathroom, but he had been here, and that meant trouble. I slipped into the kitchen and slid a chef’s knife out of the block on the counter as silently as possible before tiptoeing toward the bathroom, still bent over to make myself a smaller target. At five-foot-five even, it’s easy, but when you fight things that have claws and can rip you in half once they have you in their grasp, you take every precaution to limit the chance of injury.

There wasn’t any other subsequent sound from the bathroom, and I waited an extra thirty seconds, then slowly crept toward the partially open door, but I couldn’t tell who, if anyone, was in there. Holding back one more second to be sure, I kicked the door open.

To find no one there. However, the bathroom window painted shut two years now, gaped open, and the curtain fluttered through it in the gentle afternoon breeze. Humidity had collected in the lower left corner of the bathroom mirror over the sink.

I yanked the shower curtain back to check the tub to be sure, then looked out the window, but I already knew I had given them plenty of time to stroll away. Fucking A, I wished I was a literal wolf. I could have scented who was there. I couldn’t tell whether the intruder was a man or a woman. No, I could only smell the infuriatingly insufficient info that someone had been here.

Appetite vanishing like the mist wafting up from the bayou in the sun, I slammed the window, locked it, then threw out my lunch and wiped the counter clean. I checked the other windows to ensure they were still locked. Our place was postage stamp small and thankfully, we got a lot of shade, but the air was muggy and hot outside, and so soon after healing, it made me feel even more drained.

I double-locked the front door and checked the dowel placed in the sliding picture window in the back, but I was too anxious to rest. The place still smelled too much of strangers.

My home was supposed to be a haven.

Knowing everyone and their minions had traipsed through mine made my neck hair stand on end. I placed my hand over my chest, where the black hand artifact emitted a happy thrum from behind my heart.

I wouldn’t be getting any rest until I knew exactly the depth of the shit pile I had landed in. Impatient for an answer, I paced toward my closet to grab my extra knife and hiking boots, followed by a light jacket tied around my waist. It was hotter than Hades outside that afternoon, but the temps dropped quickly once the sun went down.

“Here I am, on the run because Kye got himself in trouble with the Syndicate, and somehow I ended up in the middle of it. I can’t even be done with them when I’m exiled.” I muttered.

I paused my tirade as I stepped into the hall and locked the door.

The corridor was deadly quiet, with the faint sounds of residents conversing or TVs playing absently, which alarmed me. Trouble comes when I hear nothing. When the neighbors hide behind their locked doors, shush their children, and pretend they aren’t home, that’s the time to get scared.

So, even before the musky wolf scent hit me, I made fast tracks toward my secondary escape route.