Page 21

Cate

L ike everything else in New Orleans, Madame Voiler ’ s Costume Shop was not—and maybe never had been—quite what it pretended to be. The racks on the main sales floor were full of modern, cheap costumes shoved in plastic bags. Tourist-targeted crap was piled on every available inch of the checkout counter, save for the space occupied by an ancient brass register and the tablet-based credit card readers that everyone actually used.

It wasn’t exactly what I expected of a costume shop that touted itself as older than the city around it. It was, however, a desperately needed break from murders and politics and what was rapidly becoming business as usual, even to me. If I were being honest, Ciara might have needed the fun even more than I did.

Ciara hustled us toward the back of the large, low-ceilinged space as a voice drawled from somewhere out of sight, “Welcome. I’m over here if you have questions.”

We couldn’t see its owner. Not with the never-ending bunch of long, wooden, floor-to-ceiling sales racks that divided the shop almost completely into separate narrow corridors. If we had actually wanted to talk to the woman face-to-face, whoever she was, we would have had to go to the narrow gap between shelves and wait for her to do the same.

“The problem is, I have no idea what I’m looking for,” I admitted.

“I keep forgetting that you’re a Halloween virgin.” Ciara waved an orange costume constructed from a questionable amount of fabric at me. “What about a sexy pumpkin?”

Clearly, we’d reached a section devoted to the scantily clad.

“I’ll pass.” I pointed to a short white dress emblazoned with a red cross. “It’s funny. I don’t remember dressing like that for work.”

“Sometimes I think the costume industry was taken over by the porn industry,” she admitted with a laugh. “That’s why I try to shop from the back of the store. At least the costumes there are handmade. What do you want to be?”

Normal . I bit back my answer. “I don’t really care.”

“But not sexy.” She riffled through a rack of ready-made options.

“It can be sexy as long as it’s not weird like a pumpkin, or perverse.” I frowned at one labeled scandalous squirrel . Who would wear that?

“Let’s try a different strategy,” she suggested. “What is Lach dressing up as?”

I shrugged. “Nothing, I assume.”

“Nothing?” she repeated.

“I don’t really see him taking the time to go buy a costume. Do you?”

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head. “He’s not getting out of participating. You can do a couple’s costume!” She clapped her hands, channeling an enthusiasm I doubted her brother would share.

“Let me clear it with him.” I whipped out my phone.

“You’re wasting your chance to decide for him,” she said in a singsong voice as she moved to flip through a catalog of rentable options. “Ohhh, I could be Juliet.”

“And maybe Roark could be Romeo,” I murmured as I shot Lach a text that simply read: game for a costume?

Ciara pretended to throw the binder at me. “I thought you were my friend. It’s bad enough that we’re connected twenty-four hours a day. We are not wearing matching costumes. People will think we’re together, and no one will flirt with me.”

Judging from the way Roark looked at her behind her back, I suspected he might be on board with that plan.

“Maybe you two should be Romeo and Juliet,” she suggested. “It would be romantic.”

I raised a brow. “Two idiots doomed to die because they’re impatient? Sounds like a great choice.”

And maybe a little closer to reality than I was comfortable admitting to her.

My phone buzzed with the sound of an incoming text.

I don ’ t know… Can I trust you to pick something out?

Well, they ’ ve got everything from pumpkins to squirrels here.

Squirrels? There has to be something better than that.

I smiled. What about a garden gnome?

Clearly, I can ’ t trust you.

Oh, c ’ mon.

I ’ ll dress up . And then, after a short pause: Nothing with tights.

Deal.

“You are grinning like a fool,” Ciara informed me when I slid the phone back into my pocket. “Not regretting the mating bond as much these days?”

“It helps that I’m in love with him.” A hot surge of nerves shot up my throat, and I swallowed. “But the whole fated-mate thing is…”

“A lot.” She nodded sympathetically.

I couldn’t tell her why. I didn’t want to remind her that it largely came down to how scared I was that the Wild Hunt would catch him—not while she was dealing with her own anxiety over the future.

“Look on the bright side.” She flashed me a dazzling smile. “You got a sister out of it.”

“More than one,” I said, “and a brother.” I’d gone from being nearly alone in the world to instant family.

But Ciara’s face dimmed. “Speaking of Fiona…” She grimaced like she’d prefer not to. “Has Lach heard anything from her? Have they found anything at the Astral Court?”

“Not that I know of,” I said. Her face fell further, and I quickly added, “But Lach doesn’t tell me everything.”

She sighed. “I wish he would just take back this stupid ring.”

And the penumbra wearing its twin. “I’m surprised he hasn’t,” I admitted. “Roark is always with him.”

“No, he isn’t,” she said glumly. “When you two are off getting busy, Roark finds me.”

“Is he that bad?” I’d spent plenty of time with Roark back when his primary occupation was cock-blocking Lach and me.

She plucked a feather boa off a hanger and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’m just used to a little more autonomy.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But at least you’re getting laid,” she pointed out.

Something told me that Roark would be happy to add that to his list of duties with Ciara, but since the mention of his name seemed to inspire homicidal urges in her, I kept the thought to myself.

The cheap, overly colorful costumes at the front of the shop gave way quickly, as did good lighting, to a selection of slightly older and more interesting costumes—and a musty smell that suggested a decades-old couch. One rack had feather boas in a rainbow of colors, and another had just one item—a pirate’s fancy coat, flipped outward on a swivel-hooked hanger to help display its grandeur. Gold buttons and brocade, once rich but now faded velveteen, and a silk sash. Apart from the moth holes, it looked like it had never been worn.

Ciara snorted when she saw its tag: authentic eighteenth century, owned by a real pirate! “I bet you a million dollars this was never owned by a real pirate. Please, please, please make my brother wear this.” She giggled, grabbing it from the hanger and attempting to thrust it into my arms. “He can plunder your booty.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to never repeat that sentence,” I said with as much seriousness as I could muster.

But I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, which brought the sound of clacking hangers and footsteps closer to us. “Did you need something, dears?” the voice from earlier called.

“No,” said Ciara, her eyes round with barely contained laughter. “We’re fine, thanks.”

The clacking sound of hangers toddled away from us, and I could have sworn I heard the shopkeeper grumble “know-nothing kids” under her breath.

“What are we doing after trick-or-treating?” Ciara asked when we were safely alone again.

I respected her intentional change of subject for what it was. “Going home and gorging on candy?”

She grunted her disapproval. “Wrong answer. Try again.”

Of course she felt that way. She had no idea there was a killer in the city. We had managed to keep the murders a secret, even from her. Lach planned to increase security throughout New Orleans for the holiday, but why tempt fate? “I’m not sure Lach will want to party if—”

Another grunt cut me off. “There will be parties all over the Quartier Enchanté. We have to go. No one throws parties like vampires.”

“No one?” I asked faintly, recalling dizzying memories of the Midnight Feast.

“ No one.” She picked up the catalog and thrust it in my direction. “And their costumes…” She feigned a swoon. “Everyone will be there.”

I took the catalog and began flipping through it. Ciara might have been exaggerating, but I’d bet money that the murderer was not only a member of one of the city’s covens, but that they also wouldn’t be able to resist a large gathering of New Orleans’s magical creatures. It was another reason to stay away…but an even better reason to go.

I returned to the Avalon with two garment bags, each holding half of the perfect couple’s costume—if Lach cooperated. I only hoped he was in a decent mood when I sprang my idea on him. I finally found him in his living room, drink in hand, locked in a staring contest with his brother—and mine.

“You’re out!” I squealed, half relieved and half elated. I dropped my bags onto the sofa next to Lach and rushed across the room as Channing rose from his chair. Despite the vampire blood they had used to heal him, his skin was wan and dark circles rimmed his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I bleated, throwing myself into his arms.

I suspected I already knew the answer. The lack of communication from my brother was the direct result of his guilt over what had happened with Oberon. But if we were going to avoid making dumbass mistakes like that again, we had to learn to talk to each other.

“Just found out this morning.” He grinned down at me, squeezing me tightly. Lach cleared his throat, and Channing released me, backing up a step.

“Ignore him,” I ordered loudly, lunging for another hug. “I usually do.”

Even with my back turned to him, I could feel Lach’s annoyance.

“We’re going out to celebrate if you want to join,” Shaw said.

“We?” I looked between the two of them. “The two of you?”

“And Dante,” Channing added.

My smile faltered. “Is that a good idea?”

Channing blinked like the question confused him. “He saved my life.”

“But…” Anxiety jammed the words in my throat. I forced myself to swallow. “He’s a vampire.”

Channing only shrugged. “So?”

I stole a glance at Lach, who nodded once as if to say he’d already been down this road with them. No wonder he was annoyed.

“I’m just not sure…” I trailed off. Channing never took my advice. He was practically allergic to it. That was how we’d wound up in this exact place. “Where are you staying?”

“I’ve got some couches I can crash on,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

But worrying about Channing was one of my primary skills. “Channing, I—”

Lach stood, putting down a large rocks glass. “Shaw, Cate. Can I have a word with you both?”

“Sure,” Shaw said slowly, rising to follow as Lach opened the door that led to the floor’s lobby area.

“We’ll be right back,” I said to Channing, but he only nodded and went to pour himself another drink.

I bit back a reminder that he was nineteen. Underage . Something told me I was going to have to start picking my battles where my brother was concerned. And if I had to choose between putting my foot down over a whiskey or over a vampire, I already knew where I would land.

As soon as the door closed behind me, Lach dropped an arm around Shaw’s shoulder in a way that was anything but friendly. “He’s going to stay right here where we can keep an eye on him.”

“Here?” Shaw repeated with a blink. “What do you mean by here?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I asked, but Lach continued to glare at his brother.

“Your wing has plenty of rooms.” Lach delivered a meaningful look.

Shaw shook his head. “I don’t know—”

“Channing almost got himself killed, and now you’re introducing him to vampires.”

I coughed, and Lach’s gaze flashed to mine. “Yes?”

He was definitely a little testy. I raised one brow—my own reminder that I wasn’t the person he wanted to challenge at the moment. “I believe you brought vampires into the equation when you woke him up from the coma.”

His face softened slightly. Being reminded of what led us to this moment was enough to temper his annoyance with his brother. “And now, thanks to Shaw, he’s socializing with vampires,” he corrected himself before he turned to his brother. “Are you trying to get him killed for good? And why are you spending so much time with vampires anyway?”

Or maybe Lach’s annoyance just couldn’t be tempered right now. Something he was going to need to work on.

“They accept me. I don’t feel like an outsider.”

Lach’s forehead creased, and I braced for another fight. But he remained silent.

Maybe he was tired of this argument, too.

Shaw shrugged out of his brother’s embrace and took a smooth step toward the elevator. “And if you want Channing to stay here, that’s fine.” He looked from his brother to me and back. “I’m sure he’d like to keep an eye on things as well.”

Like me. Because every time Channing got worried about me, he did something thoughtless bordering on suicidal. Any minute, innuendos would give way to action, claws would come out, and then things would get really ugly.

“Enough.” I took a step forward, pointing a finger at each of them. “Channing is going to stay here, because it’s the safest choice given the circumstances. But that’s not going to be a problem, because we’re all adults, right?”

Lach pressed his lips into a tight line, but he cast doubtful eyes at Shaw.

I groaned. “You’re both ancient, but you’re still behaving like macho teenagers out to prove something. You’re brothers. Act like it.”

“We’re ancient?” A smile twitched on Shaw’s face. “Honestly, I don’t care if he stays with me. It will be nice to have someone cool around.”

If looks could kill, Lach’s eyes might have bored right through his brother’s skull. “I’m entrusting Channing’s safety to you. Keep him out of trouble.”

“Always.” But the grin on Shaw’s face made me cringe. He turned back to me. “I guess that’s a no on joining us this evening.”

“Probably.” I wrinkled my nose. “You’ll have more fun without us.”

Because I had no doubt if I accepted their invitation, my glowering, irritated mate would come along, too.

He tilted his head. “If you change your mind…”

Shaw headed toward his rooms.

“I don’t like this,” I muttered, staring after him.

Lach hooked an arm around my waist and dragged me back into his own quarters. “I could find somewhere safer for Channing.”

“Where? We already tried jail.” But the lightness of my words didn’t match my mood.

“Send him to hang with Fiona and Romy. He can’t get in much trouble with them,” he suggested, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“You underestimate him.” I tipped my face back and searched his eyes. “You were right. It’s best if we keep him close. I’d rather know where he is than have him out there now that he knows the truth. If we don’t, he’s going to fall in with someone worse than vampires.”

“What if he didn’t know?” Lach asked softly.

I frowned. “It’s not like we can just erase his memory.”

He crooked his head meaningfully.

We could do exactly that. I’d seen it happen. All it would take was one more favor from a vampire, and Channing could be compelled to forget everything he knew about the Gages, the Otherworld, and magical New Orleans.

“Think about it,” Lach continued. “He forgets, and we get him out of town, away from all of this.”

I stared at him, uncertainty digging a pit in my stomach. “Could you do that to your family?”

“I would if I could.” Sadness tainted the resolution in his voice. “If I could have them compelled and get them away from all of this, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

I could tell he meant it. And maybe he was right. Maybe it was selfish to keep Channing around, but wanting him in my life wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“You’re forgetting something.” I pulled out of his arms, shaking my head. “Oberon knows who Channing is. If we send him away, what’s to stop Oberon from going after him to…?”

I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.

To get to me.

I had something Oberon wanted, and I’d fucked up his plans by escaping. If Channing left New Orleans, I had no doubt that Oberon would go after him.

“Then we keep them close,” he said, and I knew he was talking about everyone we loved—all the people who would be dragged into Oberon’s war—if it came to it.

Lach reached for me, and I returned gratefully to his arms. We were both responsible for the mess we’d made, and whether we cleaned it up or waded through it, we’d be doing it together. He held me closely as we let the weight of our choices settle over us until finally, he broke the silence. “So, what’s in the bag?”

I bit back a grin. “Our costumes.”

“The way you said that makes me nervous,” he admitted, and my mouth split into a wider smile.

I grabbed his collar and hauled him in for a kiss. “Don’t you trust me?”

“In theory.” He reached for the bag, but I shooed his hand away. “You really aren’t going to tell me?”

And risk him backing out? “Hell no.”

“I bet I can get it out of you.”

“And how are you going to do that, Gage?”

His hands crept up my rib cage. “You forget I’m fluent in torture.”

I shrieked as he tickled me. “Stop!”

He did instantly, his teasing expression now strained as he backed away, putting distance between our bodies. I’d triggered his protective instinct, but I wasn’t ready to win. Part of me didn’t want to win at all.

I planted a hand on my hip and leveled a challenge. “Is that all you’ve got?”

He must have understood the assignment, because I was off my feet and over his shoulder a second later. I batted playfully at his back as he carried me toward our bedroom, the costumes forgotten.

For now.

“Oh, princess,” he said, “you have no idea how persuasive I can be.”