Chapter 13

Yeah, Marie was scary, all right. If I hadn't fought and bled beside Tate and the others for years, I would reconsider asking Marie for help. If she agreed, she wouldn't want to be compensated by money. No, she'd want something far more valuable.

I met Bones's gaze. The look in his dark brown eyes said he expected this to be every bit as dangerous as I did, yet there was no lessening of resolve on his lean, hard features.

"They're my people, raised by my blood or sworn to it, and no Master leaves his people behind when there's a chance to save them."

I wasn't Master of a line, but I agreed with every word. No real friend would leave their friends behind to die, either.

"Looks like we're going to New Orleans," I said softly.

Tyler let out an exasperated noise. "Can we quit talking about it and do it already?" The lights of New Orleans glittered like crystals against the dark waters surrounding the long bridge that led us into the city. Finally, we were here. It had been almost a day drive considering that we had to swing by our Blue Ridge home to pick up my cat. We couldn't fly into New Orleans because of the garlic-and-marijuana satchels we packed in case Marie sicced her spectral spies on us. As for renting an RV instead of taking our car, well, this wasn't the first time I'd gone on a road trip with Dexter. The dog's farts could be considered chemical warfare, and the extra space gave me somewhere to run.

We'd just turned into the French Quarter when Tyler let out a blissful sigh.

"There they are."

I glanced out the window. Ghosts covered the French Quarter more plentifully than plastic beads during Mardi Gras. They floated through throngs of tourists, hung out on rooftops, in bars, and, of course, drifted through the city's famous cemeteries. The most remarkable thing about them was how many were sentient. Most ghosts tended to be repeats of a moment in time, unable to think, just endlessly acting out the same incident. Not surprisingly, a lot of those incidents related to their deaths. Death was a momentous event for everyone.

But the ethereal residents of the Crescent City were different. Most of them were as lively as the people who were unaware of their presence. A few were pranksters. The young man who tripped and fell face-first into a pretty girl's cl**vage had no idea he'd been pushed by a ghost who chortled at the slap the chagrined boy received. Farther up the sidewalk, a pair of ghosts amused themselves by tipping revelers' glasses upward so that expected sips turned into face-soaking splashes.