City of night secrets an.., p.1
City of Night (Secrets & Sin Book 1), page 1
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Thank You!
Acknowledgments
About Linsey
Copyright
1
Cora
* * *
My car broke down two blocks from my new place.
In the pouring rain.
I thumped my head against the steering wheel. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
There was no one to hear me, but that didn’t stop me from talking to myself. I was almost insane with exhaustion, so what was a little rambling? I’d been running from my old life for over twenty-four hours, and I was almost to my destination.
Almost.
But two blocks felt like two miles right now.
I looked out the window at the darkened city. Raindrops plunked into puddles that gleamed golden under the streetlamp. Three-story buildings lined the streets, their fronts decorated with wrought iron balconies dripping with flowers. Rain battered against the blooms, making them droop heavily in the dim light.
I could wait for the rain to let up, but would it? New Orleans didn’t screw around with weather, and after what I’d been through to get away from my old life, a little rain was nothing.
Hell, I could consider it a bath.
Decision made, I grabbed the ratty duffel bag that contained my only possessions and climbed out of the car. I’d managed to pull into one of the few empty parking spaces along the side of the street, which was a small blessing. I was unnaturally strong, but I was way too tired to push my car anywhere. The thing was in such bad shape that I might not even come back for it.
I didn’t spare it a glance as I walked away, head bent against the pounding rain. I’d memorized the address of the place that my erstwhile mother had left me—7 Rue de la Mer in the French Quarter—and checked the street signs.
I found the road easily enough but couldn’t find number seven. Now that I was out on the street, I could see that each building was painted a different color. I’d never seen a street so beautiful. At the moment, though, I couldn’t have cared less. I just wanted to get inside.
But I couldn’t find the damned address.
Why the hell was it so difficult?
I felt a telltale prickle at the back of my neck and stilled. Someone was watching me. The well-honed instinct had saved my life many times before, and I wouldn’t ignore it now just because I’d left behind my life as a mercenary.
My movements felt fluid and familiar as I spun in a circle, drawing my dagger from the ether. The hilt was comfortable in my hand as my gaze landed on the figure across the street. She leaned against the wall underneath a protective overhang that kept her dry, smoking a cigarette that billowed gray-blue in the light of the streetlamp.
My shoulders relaxed, and I returned my knife to the ether.
She was just a kid. Sixteen or seventeen at the most. I’d been deadly at that age, so I wouldn’t underestimate her, but it was clear she wasn’t a threat to me.
I recognized something in her, though, like I was looking in a mirror at the girl I’d been ten years ago. Her clothes were all black, and her long hair hung over her shoulders in gleaming waves of ebony. The boredom on her face was even familiar, as was the hunted look.
Yeah, I recognized her.
She was me. She was every girl abandoned by their family—either due to sad circumstance or shitty choice. And in a strange way, I could feel her presence. It was the oddest thing, like we were two points of light floating in space, and I could feel her.
I shivered.
“What are you looking at?” she called from across the street. The challenge in her voice made it clear she wasn’t afraid of anything.
Why the hell was I worried about her?
I couldn’t take care of myself, much less someone else. I’d survived when I was her age, and she would, too.
“Do you know where I can find 7 Rue de la Mer?” I asked.
She nodded toward my right. “Two doors down. Blue house.”
“Thanks.” I turned to look down the street, feeling an insane impulse to ask her if she wanted to come inside when I found the place. But when I looked back, she was gone.
Good. Because that would have been crazy.
I turned and walked down the street, finding the blue building without trouble. There was no number on it, but there was a sign that said Mauve’s Best Books.
I frowned.
A bookstore?
I hadn’t expected that.
The seer hadn’t told me much about what my mother had left me, but I had nothing else in the world. When it came time to run from my old life, I’d come here.
But a bookstore? How could a woman who’d sold her only daughter own something as nice as a bookstore?
It pissed me off.
Everything seemed to piss me off these days, as if my life were finally getting the better of me.
Maybe dear old mom had a drink in there somewhere. I could certainly use it. Or ten pounds of chocolate. It wouldn’t be as good as whiskey, but it could get the job done in a pinch.
Before anyone looked out their window and noticed I was loitering too long, I reached for the doorknob and twisted. A protection charm buzzed against my hand, but the lock gave way.
“Huh.” Something had gone right.
Weird. The seer had assured me I’d be able to enter, but I hadn’t expected it to be so easy.
I pushed open the door and stepped into the darkened interior. As I shut the rain out, the scent of books immediately filled my nose. I inhaled deeply. Despite a life spent in dive bars hunting whoever my owner told me to hunt, I loved books. Hell, probably because of that life, I loved books.
I might not look like the book-nerd type, but I was. Or at least I wanted to be.
An idea popped into my head.
Books would be my new life.
I hadn’t known what I’d do when I got to New Orleans besides hide out and get some answers about my past and my magic, but I now had a better idea.
Which made me nervous because it felt like things were going too well.
I blinked into the gloom, trying to determine what the place looked like. The shadows were deep and dark, making it nearly impossible to see anything other than the outlines of the shelves and several squashy armchairs. I reached for a light switch.
Before I could touch it, something flew toward me and nailed me on the forehead. Pain exploded, and I stumbled backward. A book thumped to the ground at my feet.
“What the hell?” I rubbed my head, blinking as the pain faded.
Another book hit me in the shoulder, so hard that it felt like it’d been thrown by a giant. My arm went dead from the pain.
Instinct took over, and I lunged toward the right, hiding behind one of the armchairs. More books shot through the air, bouncing off the chair and the wall behind me.
Seriously? “Whoever is throwing the books, you’d better stop, or you’ll regret it.”
A feminine laugh echoed back at me, and I growled.
I dropped my duffle bag and drew my karambit from the ether. It was a type of curved blade from Indonesia, and I favored it because it had a ring at the end of the hilt that I could slip my forefinger through. The ring kept me from dropping it, and the shape allowed me to punch and then cut—the perfect weapon.
Whoever was there, I’d find them. I hadn’t expected to have to use my skills so soon—if I’d had my way, I’d never use them again. But things rarely went my way.
I drew in a deep breath and cleared my head, allowing my senses to focus on the room around me. Everything became clearer—the sounds, the sights. These gifts were the product of practice instead of magic, and I was damned good at hunting.
Silently, I crept from behind the chair, moving toward the wall, where I used another chair for cover. The books had stopped flying and the woman had stopped laughing, but I listened for her breath.
I heard nothing.
What the hell?
I peeked out from behind the chair, but the only thing I saw was a faint white glow behind one of the bookshelves.
Of course.
I couldn’t hear her breathe because she was a damned ghost.
Obviously, the bookshop was too good to be true. My mother wouldn’t leave me a gift like that. Fate wouldn’t allow it. My luck ran more toward haunted bookstores and vicious ghosts.
Too bad for the ghost that my karambit was enchanted to banish her kind. It had cost me a pretty penny, but in my line of work, it was necessary. I had the rare ability to see ghosts even when they didn’t want to be seen, which made me perfect for the job when one needed to be sent to the underworld.
“Come out, come out!” the ghost sang. There was an element of humor to her voice that suggested she was enjoying the hunt.
Part of me en joyed it as well, even though I wanted to leave my old life behind.
Now that I knew where she was, I could get her. Silently, I crept from my spot and stuck close to the walls. I’d always been able to move with freakish stealth, a skill that I’d made stronger once I’d begun my life as a mercenary. I was the best at what I did, and I’d use that now.
“Where are you, damn it?” The ghost’s frustrated voice made me grin.
I was nearly to her, and she didn’t even realize it.
I crept around the corner of a bookshelf and got my first good glimpse of her. She wore a cute dress and strappy sandals, along with sunglasses propped on top of her wild curls.
I frowned. She was about my age, and from the style of her clothes, it looked like she hadn’t been killed that long ago. Even stranger, she looked more like a girl who should be at an outdoor music festival instead of haunting my mother’s bookstore.
My hesitation cost me, though.
She spotted me and grinned widely, then hurled a book at me. I ducked back behind the bookshelf to avoid the hit, then charged her. She was fast enough to throw another book, and it nailed me in the hip. I winced but managed to dodge the next one she threw.
As she was grabbing a third, I put on a burst of speed and sprinted by her, grabbing her by the arm and pressing my blade to her throat.
Her eyes widened. “What the hell?”
I grinned. “Yeah. I can touch you.”
Most people couldn’t touch ghosts, but I could.
“Damn it.” She sulked, then dropped her book. “That’s no fun.”
“Neither were the books you threw at me.”
She shrugged. “Didn’t know if you were the old bitch who owns this place.”
Old bitch?
Hmm. Now that was interesting.
I didn’t want to banish her. I had no idea where ghosts went when I killed them with my blade, but I assumed it was the underworld. That made it murder, even though they were already dead. I was taking the choice from them, after all.
And my new life was all about not murdering people. That was the main reason I’d left my old life behind. I could kill with a touch—a gift that I despised—and my old owner had forced me to use it way more than I’d wanted to. Despite the punishments that he’d inflicted upon me, I’d stuck to a strict code—kill only those who were truly evil. This ghost was a jerk with a mean throw, but that didn’t merit her a trip to the underworld.
I released her and stepped back, drawing in a deep breath. “I guess we’ll just have to get along, then. Why are you here?”
The ghost grinned, an unexpectedly cheerful smile. “Get along?”
“Yeah. Not like friends or anything, but I’m going to be living in the apartment upstairs.” Fates, I hoped it had a comfortable bed. “Speaking of, it’s been a hell of a day. I need a drink. Did my mother keep anything up there?”
The ghost scowled. “Your mother?”
“Yeah. Did she keep anything around the house to take the edge off?”
“Don’t know. She killed me, so I didn’t like her.”
“You and me both, pal. Didn’t like her, that is.”
“You didn’t like her, either?”
“Never met her. She sold me off after I was born.” Sympathy gleamed in the ghost’s eyes, and I wanted it to go away. So I changed the subject. “Why did she kill you?”
“I don’t know. Can’t remember anything from that night.” She grinned and conjured a glass, then raised it. “To hating your mother, whom I haunted until the day she died.”
I liked the sound of that. But I also needed a drink. “I’m headed upstairs. See you later.”
“Don’t you want to chat?” Her voice followed me through the shop. “Not that I like you, but I’m bored.”
“No.” Chatting was what friends did, and I didn’t do friends. Especially not with a mean ghost who had been killed by my mother. That would be way too complicated. We’d have stuff in common.
I shuddered.
As I made my way to the back of the bookshop, the shelves cut out the light from the street, and the shadows deepened. I felt along the wall until I found the light switch and flicked it on.
Nothing happened.
“Damn it.” So, I had to get power. Which meant I had to get money.
At least it was springtime. It was hot, but not deadly.
The stairs were easier to find than the light switch had been, and I followed them up to the apartment on the second floor. Tall windows set into exposed brick walls let in light from the street. I was able to make out the shapes of furniture and the kitchen in the far corner.
“Bingo.” I strode toward it and began searching through the cabinets. When I finally found an old bottle of whiskey, I grinned. My mother hadn’t been good for much in my life, but she was good for this.
I took the bottle to the bedroom, unscrewing it and swigging as I walked. It burned on the way down, a comforting fire that meant I wouldn’t have to face my demons tonight. A few more gulps got me where I wanted to go, and I crashed onto the bed.
When I heard the scream from the street, I thought it was part of my usual dreams.
2
Cora
* * *
I staggered out of bed the next morning, groggy and in desperate need of caffeine. The sight of the whiskey bottle on the bedside table made me wince. I usually tried to avoid drinking my demons away, but sometimes my weakness got the better of me.
In the bright light of day, the bedroom was surprisingly pretty. More exposed brick walls inset with tall windows. The furniture was old and mismatched but quirky.
I liked it.
And that made me feel weird.
This was my mother’s stuff. The same mother who had sold me to an orphanage that raised magical kids who would become indentured servants to the worst of the criminal underworld.
For the longest time, I’d hoped it was a misunderstanding. I’d snooped and prodded for information until I was finally confident of what had happened—and massively disappointed. It hadn’t been a mistake. She just hadn’t wanted me. Hell, she might have even used the money to start the bookstore down below.
Nope.
I wasn’t going down that depressing rabbit hole. I was here to start a new life. I’d faced way worse than a mother who didn’t want me. Now that I was free of the misery of my past, I was going to enjoy myself.
Except for the fact that the shower was ice cold. At least I had water, though. I didn’t know why it hadn’t been turned off like the power, but I was grateful. It helped to wash away some of the exhaustion. It was weird as hell to use my mother’s shampoo, but my life was full of weird things. This was hardly the worst of it.
At the first opportunity, I’d get rid of her shit and get some of my own.
I found a change of clothes in my duffel bag and dragged on the jeans and T-shirt. Without electricity, I was going to have to go out to find coffee. Fortunately, NOLA was known for chicory coffee and I wanted to try it.
I made my way to the living room, which I hadn’t seen well last night. The couch was a plush green monstrosity, but that wasn’t what drew my attention. There was a shadowy black lump on one of the cushions.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked.
A small head peeked from a pile of fluff, red eyes blazing. The creature had a cat’s face, but its fur was somehow more shadowy than real. The little beast hissed at me, then put its head back down to resume sleeping.
Damn it, my mother had had a pet. Some kind of demon cat or something, with my luck.
“Not dealing with that until I have my coffee,” I muttered.
“And you still need to go visit the demon lord of New Orleans.” The ghost’s voice sounded from behind me, and I turned with a groan.
She sat on the kitchen counter, her transparent legs swinging as she grinned at me.
“The demon lord, really?” I asked. “Does he have a name?”
“Talan. But you shouldn’t call him that. He owns this part of the city, and we might be on the outskirts of his territory, but you still need to go check in with him.”
