“Quite,” Bones replied, not letting his eyes stray from Ralmiel’s. “My friend just forgot his manners, interrupting our dinner.”

“I was going to wait for you outside,” Ralmiel said, settling back in his chair expansively, “but when I saw your chér amie, I decided to conclude our business tomorrow. After I learn more about la belle here.”

“I don’t like being spoken about as if I’m not even here,” Becca said, with a sharp glare at Ralmiel.

The waiter came with the check. Bones dropped several bills onto it without counting them, not tearing his attention from Ralmiel for a fraction longer than needed.

“Join us outside?” Bones asked, with an arched brow.

Ralmiel nodded. “Of course.”

Becca got her purse, still giving them wary glances. “Do you two need a minute alone to talk?”

No, Bones thought coolly. But I’d like a minute alone to kill him. He picked up his whiskey glass, noting with satisfaction that it was near full, and rose from the table.

“We’re fine, luv. Be finished up shortly.”

Bones and Ralmiel kept their attention on each other’s every move as they walked outside. The tension was thick enough to slice. Almost casually, Bones took a sip of his whiskey. Next to them, a group of smokers waited to get into the restaurant.

“What’s your plan, mate?” Bones asked. “Going to skulk after me and wait for your best chance?”

Ralmiel smirked. “Non, mon ami. I’m going to follow her home and then skulk around after you.”

Becca gasped. Bones just smiled. “I think not.”

Then he flung his whiskey on Ralmiel, using the lighter from the smoker nearest him to send Ralmiel up in flames.

Ralmiel screamed, swatting at the fire that covered the front of him. Several bystanders yelled as well. Bones didn’t wait to admire his handiwork. He yanked Becca with him through the crowd, ignoring her horrified sputtering. Once he found an alley, he propelled himself up in the night, covering both of them with his coat. Less chance of being noticed, since his coat was black against the night’s sky.

Ralmiel wouldn’t be following anyone, not in his condition.

Becca’s scream at being airborne was cut off by Bones clapping a hand over her mouth. He didn’t bother with the rooftops this time, but flew over the Quarter and beyond. He glanced back a few times, but there was no flying form chasing him. It would be too much to hope that Ralmiel hadn’t managed to douse the fire and was dead, but at least now he wouldn’t know where Becca lived.

She kicked and squirmed the entire way, making terrified grunting sounds against his hand. When they reached her neighborhood, Bones glanced around, saw no one loitering about, and set them on the ground by her front door.

“Shh, you’re fine, Becca,” he said, lasering her with his gaze. “I drove you home after dinner, and nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

She smiled at him, the fear melting away on her face.

“Thanks for a lovely evening,” she said.

Bones sighed, again regretting the necessity of using her. When this is over, he promised her silently, you’re getting a large donation in your bank account. It’s the bloody least I can do.

“No, luv, thank you,” he replied, brushing his lips across hers.

He’d intended it to be only a brief kiss, but she opened her mouth and twined her tongue with his, the scent of desire wafting from her.

Bones kissed her with more intensity, letting his hands slide to her waist. She gasped, and then groaned when his hips rubbed against hers.

Money isn’t all I can give her, Bones reflected. Becca didn’t want him to leave her at her door tonight. Her heartbeat and scent were screaming that to him.

She pulled away long enough to whisper, “Come inside.”

Again, it was the least he could do.

The float rounded the first street corner to the clamor of cheers. It was a mock-up of an opera stage, with a faux upper balcony and a piano in the forefront. Becca, barely recognizable in curled wig, theater makeup, and a long, Victorian dress, beamed at the crowd. Seated at the piano, Bones ran his hands over the keys while the float’s speakers blared out the familiar score from Phantom of the Opera.

More cheers came from the street’s onlookers, especially when Bones stood up and bowed. He wore a black tuxedo, with that trademark half-face mask obscuring his features, and a dark wig on his head. The other actors on the float mimed a musical rehearsal as Bones stalked toward Becca with the exaggerated seductiveness—and menace—of the Phantom.

It hadn’t been hard to switch himself and Becca with the original couple for this float. Just a few flashes from his eyes, and those people were happily drinking rum instead of playing Christine and the Phantom. None of the other actors argued, either. There were days when it was good to be a vampire.

Perched as she was on the fake balcony of the float, Becca had a bird’s-eye view of the people up and down the streets. This parade went all through the Quarter, and in their costumes, even Ralmiel would be hard-pressed to recognize either of them. Becca was as anonymous as Bones could make her, having no idea that, subconsciously, she was scanning faces in the crowd looking for Delphine.

After lip-synching a snippet from “Music of the Night” with Becca, Bones jumped down and walked around the outside of the float. This kept Becca’s attention where it should be; away from him, and on the faces upturned at her. If that deviated from the scheduled act for the float, so be it. It was only three days until Fat Tuesday. Soon the LaLauries would finish their murderous scavenging and leave the city. There were more important things at stake than following a parade script.

It was after eleven at night, which meant the crowds were at their peak. The parade was halfway down Bourbon Street when Becca suddenly stopped waving and flinging beads. Her eyes took on a glazed look as the directive Bones had instilled in her a week ago kicked in and bore results.

“The woman from that night. There she is.”

Becca didn’t even seem to be aware that she’d spoken. Bones swung his gaze in the direction Becca was staring, cursing the crush of people around him. There was a sea of faces, half of them female, and every third of those with dark hair. He jumped up to where Becca was, muttering, “Show me.”

Becca ignored everything around her, fixated on the directive Bones had compelled in her before: find the woman from that night. With a stiff gesture, she pointed into the crowd. Bones searched the faces ahead of them, looking for that faint, telltale luminance of undead flesh.

A woman about ten meters ahead turned around. Her hair was black and curly, her smile was wide, and her beautiful features were set off by pale, perfect skin.

Delphine.

Delphine noticed him, too. At first her eyes flicked over him disinterestedly, but then she paused. Narrowed her gaze. And turned around and began walking away.

“Stay here,” Bones ordered Becca, reaching inside his coat to pull out a large, curved knife. The crowd gasped, thinking it was part of the act. He ignored them as he jumped down, roughly shoving people out of his path.

Her dark head slipped below the crowd as she ducked and vanished from his sight. Bones increased his pace, almost throwing people to the side. Soon the police would notice the disturbance, but he didn’t care. His attention was focused on one goal. Don’t let Delphine escape.

He glimpsed her again, darting quickly through people with her head lowered. Delphine glanced over her shoulder, and their eyes met once more. She smiled, lovely and evil. Then she punched the person closest to her and ran.

Bones gave up pretending to be human. He chased after Delphine with all his supernatural speed. In the next moment, he was upon the young man Delphine had struck. The man was on his knees, blood pouring out between hands clutched to his stomach. She’d punched him hard enough to tear right through the bloke’s guts. It was a mortal injury—unless Bones stopped to save him.