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E velyn slept most of the following day, waking in the late afternoon to eat cold crawfish pasta straight from the fridge and attempt to sort out her life. If she only had three days to prep for this trade, then she couldn’t afford a night off. There was too much to do.

For one thing, she had to go by the shop to pick up Marge—the sniffers had gotten entirely too close. For another, she needed to find a different copy of the book Denmark wanted her to use in the trade. She held the substitute in her hands, frowning. It was a perfectly fine book, but it didn’t match the one in the photo. Not even close. This one appeared new, whereas the one in the picture had more… rind on it. And she also wanted to visit Granny Lucy’s. She was running low on palo santo.

After tossing the now-empty takeout container in the trash, she grabbed her bag from its hook near the door. Three knocks and four words and three deadbolts later, she was venturing out into the gathering dusk. Mosquitos buzzed around the birdfeeder filled with damp green algae and dark brown water. Honeysuckle sweetened the thick air, dancing with the scent of rain.

Fifteen minutes later, Evelyn let out a sigh of relief at the brightly lit “NO VACANCY” sign buzzing in all its neon glory over the roadside motel-turned-car-shop. The wolves were the best mechanics in town, but they were useless after sundown, regardless of the moon. If they weren’t running through the woods stripped of their clothes and wits, they were drunk as skunks at the neighboring biker bar.

The motel rooms had been gutted and turned into mechanic’s bays. Numbering fourteen in total, they were always full. Today was no exception.

“Hey, baby. It’s about time you came to pick up your girl.”

Eduardo. Wolf asshole, standard model: inhuman strength, prone to violence, terrible flirt, and dumb as shit. She rolled her eyes and stopped just short of the office door, her hand resting on the handle. Without turning, she said, “I told you not to call me baby.”

“Oh, come on, amiga. I’m just trying to be friendly .”

“I don’t like your kind of friendly.” Evelyn turned to face him. “You might be a big bad wolf, pendejo . But you were born of a bruja under a full moon, and she has told me your true name. Remember that.” She watched his dark eyes widen briefly before narrowing into slits, suspicious. Not all wolves were sniffers, but all sniffers were shifters, usually wolves or jackals. Their heightened senses and supernatural sensitivity to the smell of magic made them excellent predators—and made shine-stealing witches their natural prey. When they got a snout full of magic, they were like cats drugged out on catnip, only a thousand times more murderous. Some of them just wanted the high. Some of them wanted to tear you open and climb inside your skin. Evelyn had witnessed Eduardo in shifted form exactly once and that had been more than enough. His nostrils flared, and Evelyn tensed in response. Several seconds ticked by, neither of them breaking eye contact.

The welcome bell jingled behind her, and the tension broke as Eduardo’s eyes darted to the person behind her. He bowed his head. “Ma’am.”

“Go on and get the lady’s bike. You know the one. And don’t dawdle, neither.”

Eduardo slinked off.

“What were you thinking, girl?”

Evelyn followed the older woman into the main office. The old A/C unit in the window rattled and wheezed, but the room was deliciously cool after the intense afternoon heat. “I’ve told him at least twice already. I don’t like it when he calls me baby.”

“So you thought you’d pick a fight with a half-grown wolf on a new moon?”

Dorine Gousille—”Goose” to those who dared—groaned as she hefted herself back onto her stool behind the front counter. She’d stepped down as the alpha of the Cajun Conclave, the largest organized pack in the Southern states, long before Evelyn came to town. Dorine reached down to pull out the ledger, the thick scars on her forearm straining under the stretch. They said she’d ruled with an iron pelt, never hesitating to challenge wolves twice her size if they needed to be knocked down a peg or two. Evelyn fully believed the lore.

“What else was I supposed to do? Let him think he can do whatever he wants?” Evelyn shook her head at the thought. There was more danger in that than a little measured hostility from her to remind him she wasn’t afraid of him.

Dorine slammed the book down on the counter and flipped through the pages, looking for Evelyn’s entry. “Oh, I don’t know, defuse the situation? He’s a wolf. Easily distracted if you know what you’re doing.”

Evelyn leaned her forearms on the counter. “Dorine, please tell me you did not just suggest I try to flirt with that feral cub.”

Dorine scowled at her for all of two seconds before letting out a bark of laughter. “You’re right. That would be worse. I’ve seen you flirt.” She showed Evelyn where to sign the ledger, then handed her the receipt. “But I won’t always be there to make sure he stays in line.”

Evelyn nodded her understanding. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Dorine eyes flickered wolf yellow. “You’d better, sha. You reek of magic.”

Evelyn left the office, her mind racing. If the old wolf could smell the shine on her, then her cleansing ritual wasn’t working. No wonder the sniffers had followed her last night.

Outside, Eduardo was nowhere to be seen. Evelyn swung her leg over her bike and settled onto the seat, using the toe of her boot to pull up the kick stand.

“Hello, Marge, old girl.” She turned the key, then held the clutch before pushing the start button. The motorcycle came to life with a familiar rumble. “Miss me?”

Evelyn zipped down a side street, taking a shortcut in hopes of reaching Granny Lucy’s before the tourists got there. The old hag only opened her storefront after dark on the new moon and then only for a few hours. It used to be that only those in the know would queue up outside to speak with the wizened woman, but that was no longer the case. Some tourist blog or other had outed her as a spooky native with wild stories, and so the out-of-towners flocked in. The blog had left out the bit about darkness and new moons, so maybe she would get lucky and there wouldn’t be too many today.

Evelyn couldn’t afford to haggle with time or money tonight.

The asphalt gave way to cobblestones, the old road worn smooth by time and tires. There was a shift when you reached the older parts of New Orleans, where the spirits lingered by choice and the monsters were real, more or less. A gray old man’s shimmering image waved at her from a half-broken store window, and she waved back. She’d tried for almost a year to get Hank Dowdson to move on, but he refused. Eventually, she’d stopped trying. She didn’t believe in forced crossovers for harmless ghosts who missed their wives. Or perhaps he didn’t miss her and that’s why he wanted to stay here. She’d long gone over to the other side, after all.

The scent of rain and honeysuckle faded the deeper she rode into the commercial district, replaced by the stench of mud and rot and people.

The front of Granny Lucy’s shop was empty and dark. Evelyn checked the sky—still too light for her to open her doors for the evening. Fair enough. She took up residence just to the side of the door, the paint peeling and faded by the sun. Crossing her arms over her chest made her look unfriendly. Or at least she hoped it did. Leave me alone, she thought. I’m not interesting or nice. Stay away. She pushed the thought out from her core, shaping it into a barrier around her, willing strangers to keep their distance.

She didn’t know if it actually did anything when she projected thoughts this way, but it made her feel better. Shuffling steps behind her made her turn in anticipation just as Granny Lucy unlocked the door, her intricate system of knocks and whispers far beyond Evelyn’s humble home wards.

“Oh, it’s you. Come in, come in.” Her voice sounded like crackling bark, but she offered Evelyn a toothless grin and motioned her inside. “I’ve been waiting for someone. Guess that’s you. What brings you?”

Evelyn looked around the shop, checking to see if anything was different or new. Not that she could spot off-hand. “I’m low on palo santo.” She helped herself to several bundles of the fragrant wood. “And I need black obsidian powder, if you have any.”

“Always. I wouldn’t stick around here for long without it myself. Powerful stuff. How much you want?” Evelyn swore she could hear the old woman creak as she moved back behind the counter, yet she moved with a quick confidence that belied her age.

“Three ounces, if you can spare it.”

Granny Lucy nodded. “I can spare it.” She pulled a jar down from a high shelf and began scooping the inky powder into a smaller jar. Once it was full, she shoved a cork unceremoniously into the top and slid it across the counter toward Evelyn. “What else?”

“I need something for cleansing.”

Granny’s eyes bore into hers. “What kind of cleansing?” She scurried around the counter to peer up at Evelyn, her dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the shop. “Oh, I see. You’ve got magic residue on you.”

Evelyn’s heart stopped beating. “You can see it?”

Granny scoffed and waved a dismissive claw. “Of course not. Just a turn of phrase. But I can feel it on you sure enough. Sniffers been giving you grief, have they?”

Evelyn’s heart started up again and with it her breath. “They have. Dorine says I reek of it.”

“Dangerous business.” The old woman clutched at her wrist, whispering a few words, tapping at the veins along her inner arm with one yellowed nail. “You’ve tried cleansing it already, but it didn’t work. Hm.”

She held still, letting Granny work. There was no one she’d rather look her over than the oldest witch in Jackson Square. After a few more moments of whispers and tapping, Granny released her.

“It’s done. You’re clean. For now. But if you go around touching things you shouldn’t, it’ll be back and worse.”

“I understand. Thank you, Granny. What do I owe you?” Evelyn reached into her bag to pull out her wallet, but the old woman stopped her.

“This one is on me. The black powder and holy wood, too. When the spirits tell me to wait for someone, I’ve learned to listen. Next time you come, bring me some of that tea you like. Then we’ll call it square.”

She bowed her head in gratitude. “Thank you, Granny. You honor me.”

Granny Lucy scoffed again, but a smile tugged at the edges of her wrinkled lips. “Nonsense. Get out of here before I change my mind. Bringing unbridled magic in here like it’s nothing. Like I won’t feel it and know what you’ve been up to. You’re worse than Bartholomew, and that’s saying something.”

Evelyn looked around for the fat cat, finding him curled into a perfect ball on a cushion by the door. It was saying something, alright—equal parts compliment and insult.

Her next stop was somewhere new but filled with old—a used bookshop that the internet insisted carried books of an ancient and unusual nature, which was exactly what she needed to find.

She almost missed it. Tucked into a crevice that was more alley than road, the cramped door crammed between a building and what must’ve once been an iron fire escape now rotted into mangled nothingness.

There was no bell over the door, but the man standing behind the business counter was welcome enough. Tall and lean, he stood with one shoulder casually leaned against the nearest bookcase. The man was pure deliciousness, and Evelyn didn’t have to be a vampire to want a taste.

“Can I help you?” Smooth baritone wrapped in an English accent. Her night was definitely looking up.

“I certainly hope so,” she said, stepping the rest of the way inside. The door slammed shut behind her, making her jump and him smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that was absolutely bewitching. It wasn’t fair how good a few years could look on a man. “I’m looking for a book.”

“I did assume, given your current location.”

“Right. So I actually already have a copy of it, but it’s the wrong one. Or, rather, it looks wrong.” Evelyn took another step closer, wondering when she’d be able to smell his cologne. Because a man this attractive was never unscented. It was against the rules.

“I see. I think perhaps you’d better show me what you’ve got then.” He remained leaned against the wall, so casual yet so sexy, waiting for her to approach. She didn’t mind at all closing the distance. Her pleasure, really.

She fumbled with the iron clasps on her bag, hardly noticing the way his striking blue eyes narrowed ever so briefly before his expression returned to its neutral yet handsome state. She withdrew the dummy book, perfectly shineless and new. She set it on the counter. Now that she stood within three feet of him, his cologne reached her nose. Leather, tobacco, vanilla, a hint of spice she couldn’t place. It was the kind of scent that made you want to lean in and breathe deep, savoring the heady combination of fragrance and skin.

She shook her head to clear it, returning her focus to the task at hand. She had a job to do, dammit.

He finally moved from his position and reached for the book. It looked even smaller in his long-fingered hands, strong yet nimble and with just the right amount of veiny goodness.

Is this what it felt like to be a vampire? Because goddess help her, she wanted to eat him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“Hmm,” he murmured, a delicate scowl creasing the skin between his brows. “I do believe I have what you’re looking for. Same edition but a bit more… well-loved, we’ll say.”

Evelyn nodded to show she agreed but also because she didn’t trust her voice at the moment. Her throat had gone dry and not with fear.

He arched a single eyebrow in her direction. “Wait here, please.” When he moved from behind the counter, she finally got the full view: dark gray slacks well fitted around the important bits (they were all important bits, to be honest), a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a matching dark gray waistcoat. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone, giving him a rakish air and showing off just a hint of neck cleavage.

She had lost her mind. That was the only possible answer. Sure, it had been a minute since her last relationship (or non-relationship relations), but that was no excuse. She’d been around a hot guy before. Hell, she’d run into Valen just last night and had managed not to drool on his shoes. Externally, at least.

His cologne returned before he did, signaling his proximity to every cell in her very attuned body. To eat or be eaten. Or both. That was all she could think about.

“I found it. Will this do?” His hand brushed hers as he handed her the book, sending goosebumps up her arm and down her spine.

“Yes,” she said without looking. “I’ll take it. How much?”

His grin told her she wasn’t hiding her arousal very well, but it was too late to do anything about it. “It’s an old one, fairly rare, but it’s been here a while with little interest. Shall we say $200?”

She would’ve agreed to twice that if it had earned her another grin or maybe even an eyebrow arch. Or both at the same time but then she might die. Better not to be greedy.

“That seems more than fair.” Despite her quaking fingers, she managed to pull two hundred-dollar bills out of her wallet and hand them to the devastating shop owner.

“Do you need a receipt?” His voice was lowered and dripping with sex. The quaking moved from her hands to her now-molten core. She shook her head and swallowed, hard.

“No, I’m good. Thank you.” She accepted her original book back from him and tucked them both into her bag. “Nice place you have here. I don’t know how I didn’t know about it before. I love old books.”

“We have that in common. Among other things, I would wager.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Maybe so. Anyway, thanks for your help. You’ve really saved the night here, more than you know.”

“Any time.” He’d returned to the casual yet sexy lean against the bookshelf behind the counter. She thought she saw his eyes flick to her bag again, but maybe not.

She had one foot out the door when his smooth voice washed over her, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. “I’m Henry, by the way. What’s your name?”

True names are dangerous things. Much like words, they hold more power than most people realize. Name magic was some of the oldest and most powerful in existence with the potential to give the practitioner pretty much unlimited power over someone, should they want that sort of thing. And if she’d still had both feet firmly planted within his store, maybe she would have given Henry her true one. She liked to think not, but she hadn’t been very good at thinking just a moment ago.

“Evelyn,” she said, giving the name she’d adopted that held no power for her or anyone else. His eyes narrowed again, and this time she was certain she hadn’t imagined it. But one more breath saw her back on the sidewalk and free from whatever powerful magic was cast on that store.

Henry was many things, but she would wager “human” wasn’t one of them.