I almost drop it when a male voice materializes in my head. There you are.

My eyes snap up, and with trembling hands, I put the box down. Frantically, I search the bustling crowd for his face. An Asian woman in a pink shirt replaces a drawer of rings, never looking up. A middle-aged female in a grey shirt walks past with her bored teenage daughter right behind her.

Scanning quickly across the space, I see a girl in a light green tank top and bun examining a panel of feather earrings. My heart beats wildly as I scan the place trying to find him.

I’m here now. I’m coming for you.

Walking backwards, I slam into a table of bags, sending them spilling to the ground like cards from a deck. My entire body is shaking and sweating, and my head jerks side-to-side frantically trying to find him.

“Mel?” Through my panic, I hear my friend’s voice calling me, but as she draws closer, the nausea rips through my stomach.

“Oh, god!” I gasp, staggering away. The market is open-air, and in ten steps I’m stumbling onto Decatur Street, holding my mouth.

Elaine is right behind me, her brow lined with concern. “Melissa! Are you okay?” She runs toward me, but Patrick is right behind her. With every step he takes, I’m pushed further up the lane toward Chartres Street. Royal is only another block up, and while we’re a good ten blocks east of our hotel, his presence is enough to send me running all the way.

“Stay back!” I hear Elaine shout, and I know she’s realized what’s happening. The shifter blood has left my system. It’s all crashing down. Not only is my immunity to Patrick gone, but I’m back on his radar.

He’s here in New Orleans, and the idea makes my entire body quake with fear. Elaine is with me, holding my arm, concern lining her pretty face.

“Oh, Lainey,” I gasp, trying not to cry. “He’s here. He’s coming for me.”

She grips my arm tight, her jaw setting. “We’re all here with you now. We won’t let him take you.”

Shaking my head, I look down. “If only it were that simple.”

I know what she doesn’t. Even if I had an army standing guard to fight against him, his blood is in my veins. I can’t resist him. We all want to save me, but he controls me. I can’t resist the pull of my maker.

Derek

The slim woman with a jet-black beehive and velvet-red lips watches me from behind a table. Her eyes are painted with thick, sweeping cat eyeliner, and her skin is white as ivory except for the long sleeves of tattoos down both arms.

“I don’t trust him,” she says, her voice deep, a notch above a purr.

“That makes two of us,” I say through an exhale.

“Where’s Patrick?” she demands.

Stuart paces the warehouse apartment off South Peters, looking up at the enormous windows allowing the grey light of the overcast sky to fill the room. This place used to store cotton.

“My little brother is guarding the target.” He’s frustrated, but Stuart has never been as easy with the subculture as Patrick. “I need you to tell us what you know.”

“What are you doing in New Orleans, Mr. Alexander?” She levels her black eyes on me. “Your region is the East Coast. You’re breaking the rules.”

I watch as she lifts a thin, tattoo-covered arm to light a long black cigarette.

“I’m here on a personal matter,” I say, not backing down.

“The information you want from me isn’t personal.” A stream of blue smoke curls from her lips.

What the fuck is she afraid of? We’d never rat out a witch for helping us.

“Maverick won’t know you helped us if that’s what’s worrying you.” Stuart strides across the large, open studio, stopping directly in front of her.

His enormous frame dwarfs Star’s petite one. She’s a tiny witch, but power ripples off her in waves. We both know not to underestimate her.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” she smiles, narrowing those cat eyes. “I follow the rules.”

“Fuck that.” Stuart throws his hands up and crosses away again.

“Listen,” I say, turning toward her. “As much as anyone, I know the importance of procedure, especially in our line of work.”

“A vampire is nothing to fuck with. They know everything that happens, and their revenge is swift and painful.”

“If you help us find him, we’ll finish him.” My voice is deadly serious, and she studies my face several moments.

“Why do you want him dead so much?”

“He threatens the woman I love.”

Stuart’s eyes snap to mine. It’s a pretty bold statement, considering I’ve only known Melissa a few days. Maybe I mean it, maybe I’m still deciding. It’s what we need to get what we want, and shit. I’m at least committed to finding out if it’s true.

Star pushes out of her chair at this, walking slowly around the open space. “I know about you, Mr. Alexander. I’ve watched your career from afar.” I’d ask her what the fuck, but she doesn’t allow it. “Your wife’s death sent you on a mission. Now, all of a sudden you’re shifting focus?”

It’s my turn to study her for a moment. Her eyes are lit with what seems to be anger. “My career has always been about justice,” I answer carefully. “Nothing has changed, least of all my focus.”

She’s not satisfied, but she is respectful of my position. Witches are crafty, but they appreciate the importance of dedication.

“The new one entered the city from the north.” She walks toward the wall of windows near where Stuart stands. “He arrived shortly after another old one left… or was killed.”

A long pause, and I’m sure I hear the high-pitched shrill of insects while she allows us time to confess. We don’t.

“He arrived last night or this morning,” Stuart says. He doesn’t like playing games, and he’s never been long on patience.

“Last night,” she says, flicking him a glance. It’s clear she prefers the company of his little brother. “The storm preceded his arrival.”

“We wouldn’t ask you to accompany us, but if you could give us an approximate location in the city—”

“He’s where they all go.”

“We’ll track him down.”

They all go to the cemetery, but in New Orleans that could mean one of five disparate places filled with row upon row of aboveground crypts. Still, I’m not in the mood to haggle with this witch anymore, especially if she’s been watching me.

“Good luck, hunter,” she says with a purr. “I’ll be waiting to see your next move.”

Back out on the street, Stuart wastes no time giving me hassle. “What the fuck got you on her radar?”

“Hell if I know,” I grumble, thinking about what we know now.

Melissa’s maker is in the city, no doubt looking for her. I can’t leave her unguarded. Hell, I might be in love with her for all I know, which makes matters worse. It makes me more vulnerable.

“Did you mean what you said back there?” My partner’s voice is the kindest I think I’ve ever heard it. He’s thinking about my declaration of love.

“Maybe.” It’s the best I can do. My feelings for Melissa are strong, but as anyone can tell you, three days isn’t enough to know shit. “She’s special. I want to know her better.”

“What about Sloan?” My mind travels back to my life’s work for the past six years. Finding Alison’s killer, finding justice—it’s what I’ve been working toward so long. Yet, in view of the situation…

“He’s not going anywhere,” I say. He doesn’t even know we’re after him.

Walking along the flagstone pavements of Riverside, we’re west of Canal Street, several blocks from our hotel. Even further from the rest of our group.

“No matter what, helping Melissa is the right thing to do,” I say with sudden conviction. “We’re about justice. She was forced. We have to set her free.”

My partner nods, and we continue walking in silence. Comfortable silence is something Stuart and I have always shared, since our days in the desert, watching the monotonous beige sand for signs of threat. Since the day he carried me out on his back.