Page 15 of Holy Shift (New Orleans Nocturnes #8)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Squawk! Pete snapped his head toward the door, his heart rate kicking into a sprint. Rabbits were prey animals. Under normal circumstances, his instinct would’ve chosen flight or freeze, but not this time. When Destiny was in danger, fight was the only option.

He took off toward the door, slipping in a blob of cake mush and catching himself on the counter before he lost his footing. Righting himself, he grabbed a bread knife and plowed through the door, ready to skewer Helga and make goose kabobs with her carcass.

No one threatened his angel.

He darted past the counter and spun in a circle. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and the front door stood ajar. Destiny was nowhere in sight.

His sprinting heart clawed its way into his throat as he flung open the bathroom door. Empty. He checked behind the counter and opened the cupboards. Nothing.

“Destiny?” He jogged out the front door, past the picket fence, shielding his eyes against the midday sun. A group of women laughed as they exited the restaurant next door, and a tall man in jeans and a black t-shirt walked a Yorkie across the street.

But no Destiny.

His stomach turned, souring, bitter bile creeping up the back of his throat as he made his way back inside. Max sat on the countertop, frowning at a white napkin clutched in his hands.

“It was Helga,” Pete said. “Where did she take her?”

“I don’t know, sir.” He offered the napkin. “I do hope angels are truly immortal.”

Pete took the napkin, his heart dropping as the red smear registered. No, it couldn’t be blood. It was strawberry sauce. It had to be. Helga the goose-pire did not bite his angel. No way had she taken her away to drain her.

This was Pete’s fault. He’d done a sweep of the entire downstairs, but Helga had obviously found a hiding place he hadn’t looked into. Fluff me. “Where did you get this?”

“There were a few drops on the floor, so I wiped them up. There’s also a bit of spatter on the wall.” Max pointed to the array of red spots dripping down the pale blue paint. “It looks like she bit into an artery.”

Pete’s stomach lurched again, his mind conjuring images from a bad B horror movie. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to chase away the intruding thoughts.

“I have to find her. She’s not immortal. Not right now.” He marched to the door and yanked it open.

“Where are you going, sir?” Max climbed down from the counter and followed.

“Next door. Helga isn’t the only one who can collude with the creatures here.” He strode across the lawn toward Mike and Crimson’s place and climbed the back steps. Without thinking about the lock, he flung the kitchen door open and hurried inside. The setup was the same as Destiny’s, with a door in the back corner covering a staircase that led to the living area upstairs.

“Whoa. No animals in the kitchen,” a man in a black apron said.

Max scurried toward Pete and clutched the leg of his pants, so he bent down and scooped him into his arms. “It’s okay. He’s a fae. Is Crimson upstairs?”

A woman with red hair secured in a tight bun gave the man a quizzical look. “Did he say fae?”

Mike cleared his throat and strode toward them. “He said ‘ESA.’ That’s his emotional support raccoon.” He opened the stairway door and gestured for Pete to enter. When they made it upstairs and out of the staff’s earshot, he said, “I’ve got humans in the kitchen. Careful what you say down there.”

“Sorry.” He set his new—or apparently old—raccoon friend on the floor. “Destiny’s been kidnapped. A vampire goose. I have to save her.”

“What’s going on?” Crimson padded barefoot to the kitchen, drying her hair with a fluffy towel. “Who’s this little guy? He’s cute.”

“My name is Max. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He held out his paw.

“Oh, you’re a fae.” Crimson shook his paw and straightened. “Does that mean Pete got his memories back?”

“No, ma’am. I’m afraid not.” Max wrung his paws.

“Bummer,” Crimson said. “What’s this about Destiny being kidnapped?”

She took a bowl from a cabinet and filled it with water as Pete explained the incident in the bakery and how Max had come to warn him. A crystal pendulum hung from a hook above the window, and she stood on her tippy toes to take it down.

“But it’s the middle of a sunny day.” Mike frowned, his eyes calculating.

“She’s a goddess-touched fae goose with no human form,” Pete said. “It seems her lack of humanity made her invincible to UV rays.”

“Well, if she’s in this realm, I’ll find her.” Crimson held the pendulum above the water bowl and closed her eyes, whispering a prayer before swinging the chain in wide circles. Frown lines creased her forehead.

Pete’s hands curled into tight fists, and Max scrambled onto a stool to see the witch work her magic. Mike rubbed his palm on his pants, extinguishing the pale red glow that had formed on his skin.

Seconds turned into minutes, and Pete reminded himself to breathe. Helga the golden goose. Why did she sound so familiar to him? Surely, they weren’t friends in the past. He would never associate with someone who would abuse the elfen like Max had described. And what had the raccoon called her? The poultry thorn in his side?

“She’s hidden well,” Crimson finally said. “I’ve asked my guides for help finding them both, but angels and fae are elusive. Since they aren’t native to this realm, they aren’t grounded here.”

All the blood from his upper body plummeted to his feet, making his head spin. If the high priestess of the most magical city on Earth couldn’t find his angel, he was screwed, and not in the battery-powered bunny way.

“Max, you know Helga,” he said. “Think. Where would she take her?”

He shrugged. “You know her better than I do, sir. You’ve always had beef.”

“Beef?” He furrowed his brow. What beef could he possibly have with a goose?

“Yes, sir. As I said, she’s always been jealous that Eostre chose you.”

He groaned and knocked the heel of his hand against his head, trying to jar the memories loose. “That’s really what this is about? Jealousy?”

“‘An act of hubris is all it takes to bring about the end of days.’ That was the third line from the prophecy.” Crimson swung the pendulum again. “She sounds like the epitome of excessive pride.”

“‘Balance dies when birds lie.’” Pete’s nostrils flared as he blew out a slow breath. “Helga lied to Eostre. She offered help when she meant to take over the whole operation.”

Crimson nodded. “You’ve forgotten your past. Destiny is awry.”

“Oh, dear.” Max shrunk inward. “The fifth line.”

Pete counted the lines on his fingers as he recited the prophecy Eostre had told to them. “The fifth line is just about Fate willing it. We already knew Fate was playing us like a game of checkers.”

Max frowned, his eyes perplexed. “That’s the sixth line.”

Crimson ticked them off on her fingers. “No, it’s definitely the fifth.”

Max covered his snoot with his paws. “She didn’t tell you all of it.”

“Okay.” Pete crossed his arms. “Then what’s the real fifth line?”

The raccoon shook his head and covered his eyes.

“Max…?” Pete gripped his wrists and gently tugged his paws away from his face. “What’s the fifth line?”

His lower jaw trembled. “I can’t.”

Pete rested his hands on his hips. “You can, and you will. Right now.”

“Yes, sir.” Max nodded. “Please remember I’m only the messenger.”

“We promise not to shoot you,” Mike said.

Max drew in a shaky breath. “The fifth line is ‘A sacrifice, giving up one life, can stop the war and end our strife.’” He covered his eyes again.

Pete’s stomach turned in one direction, his heart in another, until it felt like his innards were swirling in a blender with extra sharp blades. Destiny would not be the sacrifice. The entire fae realm could fall into hell and churn in the tarpits for eternity before he would allow them to take Destiny’s life.

“Oh, dear, indeed.” Crimson returned to scrying, and Mike’s palm glowed red again.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said.

Mike fisted his hand. “I’m a Devil’s Advocate. I can locate her, but you’d have to pay a price.”

“Unless you want your furry bunny balls hanging from Satan’s rearview mirror, you’ll stay as far away from my beloved demon’s glowing hand as possible. Trust me.” She closed her eyes and whispered another prayer.

“Satan stopped collecting testicles ages ago.” Mike rolled his eyes as if he expected her to know that. “Now he’s keeping people’s sanity in jars on a bathroom shelf. He’s got thousands.”

“How big is his bathroom?” Pete asked, taking a step away from the demon.

“Massive,” Mike said.

“Oh! I think I’m getting something,” Crimson said. “They’re in this realm for sure. I… Dammit, I lost it.” She opened her eyes. “Looks like it’s time for a wild goose chase.”