Extraits

** Extrait offert par Sherrilyn Kenyon **

Chapter 2

Jo had just finished packing her gear into her rusted-out 1964 Ford Falcon that used to be red, but now was more primer gray than anything else, when her cell phone began ringing. Answering it, she went to the driver’s side and tossed her purse in.

“Hey, coz. Quick change of plans. We’re not meeting at Karma’s. Rather, we got an emergency call in for the Gardette-LePretre Mansion on Dauphine.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. That weird old place where the sultan and his harem were slaughtered?”

“That’s the one. See you there … oh, and the man’s paying us through the nose. Your bonus just had a baby! Mazel tov!”

Hoping this wasn’t an additional sign of a pending Apocalypse, Jo hung up and got into the car. Well, she’d always had a morbid fascination about the place that was only a couple of blocks from her family’s Voodoo store,

Erzulie’s. When they’d been kids, their aunt Kalila had regaled them with scary stories about that old mansion and the horrors that had taken place there almost two hundred years ago.

Yeah.

But she couldn’t quite suppress the sadness at the thought of driving past the store where her cousin Tiyana had died. Since that horrible night, she’d done her best to avoid the entire street. She could only imagine how much worse it had to be for Selena and her sisters, especially Tabitha, who now owned it.

Out of all the mixed nuts in the Devereaux bowl, Tiyana had been one of Jo’s favorites. Though she’d never believed in any of what her father called their otherworldly crap, Jo used to stop by and nab the special oils and soaps that T and their aunt Ana made for Erzulie’s.

Don’t think about it.

It was hard not to. The one lesson Jo had learned was just how fast life changed. One minute you were walking along in a little cocoon of copasetic numbness. And the next … bam! Your world went skidding off the rails, leaving your heart in little bloody chunks on the sidewalk, that made you wonder how you’d ever be able to put it back together again.

It really ought to be illegal for life to do that without any warning.

Disgusted, she turned the ignition key. Her car sputtered to life with a death rattle and a great belch of black smoke that fanned out for a full block. Yeah, it was embarrassing, but she had to give the old Falcon credit.

At age fifty, it had more life in it than she did at present.

Pushing everything out of her mind except the Prince song on the radio, she headed over to Dauphine, where Selena and Karma were already waiting, along with four women she’d never met before.

Jo pulled up behind Selena’s Jeep and parked on the street. After an extremely long and humiliating round of yeah-I-turned-my-car-off-and-it’s-still-running,–don’t-know-if-it’ll-ever-stop-so-bite-my-heinie-and-be-glad-it’s-not-you, she got out and gathered her bags. As she neared the others, she couldn’t help noticing the expressions on everyone’s face that said they had a bet going to see how long she’d last.

Sidling up to Selena, she grinned. “Put me down for eight.”

“Eight what?”

“How long I’ll last before I run screaming for home.”

Karma laughed.

The rest looked confused.

With a dismissive snort, Selena gestured toward the petite blonde on her right. “Jo, meet our fearless leader and primary exorcist, Mama Lisa. She’s the one who does the Voices Carry Internet radio show on Wednesday nights.”

Jo knew the show well. It was the only one Karma listened to that she could stand.

Holding her hand out, Jo inclined her head to the woman with friendly eyes and a beautiful smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Next, Selena indicated the two brown-haired women who looked enough alike to be related. “Sister Jordan and her real sister, Sarah.”

They exchanged pleasantries.

“And last, but never least, Mistress Mercy.”

Plump and adorable, she flashed a set of deep dimples. “Hi, Jo. Hope you don’t scare easily. We’ve got a doozy today.”

Jo winked at her. “Looking forward to it.”

“You’re not scared?” Lisa asked doubtfully.

“You’ve met Karma, right? Imagine sharing summer bathrooms and beds with her. She’s a pig. Nothing scares me more than her midnight bathtub rituals.”

They all laughed. Even Karma.

“All right, Ms. Unflappable.” Karma grabbed the bag from Jo’s shoulder. “Get ready for scary!” She made a fake bwa-ha-ha laugh as she left.

Jo passed a less-than-impressed stare at Selena. “I feel like I’m stuck at the lake house with her again … help me.”

Shaking her head, Selena grabbed the tripod and carried it in. Jo followed them, but hesitated in the foyer. Not because she was scared, but because it was absolutely lovely. While the outside of the house was classical Greek

Revival, complete with ornate wrought-iron balcony—the whole nine yards—the inside was completely modern and contemporary.

Polished woods. Ceiling fans. Beautiful coffered ceilings. Exquisite.

Jo tried not to gape in awe. “I thought this was apartments.”

Selena set the tripod down. “It was. A year ago August, it was bought and converted to a single home. Nine bedrooms, ten baths. Over seven thousand square feet of utter evil.”

“Doesn’t look evil. Looks really nice.”

“Thank you.”

Jo turned at the sound of the man’s deep voice. Dressed in a green golf shirt, he was middle-aged and held the air of a man in charge.

“Cal,” Lisa said in greeting. “Thanks for letting us do this.”

“No, thank you for coming. After last week, my wife has refused to return. She’s already calling to have the place relisted. Wish she’d done that before the last remodeling bill. But what can you do? Cheaper than divorce lawyers, I guess.”

Selena pulled out a spiral-bound vinyl notebook that had cute little monsters on the cover, and a feathered flamingo pen. So much for looking professional. “What exactly’s been going on?”

“Honestly, nothing at first. We were here for almost a year with no occurrences whatsoever. Like everyone else, we thought the stories about the place being haunted were bogus. And then…”

Selena looked up. “What?”

“We came in one night from dinner out and there was a strange odor. I can’t even describe how foul it was. We thought maybe a sewer line had backed up or something.”

Lisa paused next to the hall console table. “Something was out of place right here.” She waved her hand over the bowl of marble balls.

Cal nodded. “Someone had put a single red rose there.”

“There was a scream upstairs,” Jordan whispered, as she repeated whatever she thought had happened. “Your wife ran back to the car to call the police while you went to the fourth floor to investigate it.” She looked back at him. “But you found nothing. The room was completely empty.”

Scowling, he nodded again. “How do you know that?”

“They’re very sensitive.” Karma turned back to Jo. “Shouldn’t you be filming this?”

“Sorry.” Jo put her camera bag on the ground and pulled out the Digital

Camcorder. Steadying it on her shoulder, she turned it on, then frowned as she flicked at the switch. “How odd.”

“What?” Selena asked.

“I took the battery off the charger right before I came over and it’s empty now.” Jo changed it out, only to learn that both backups were dead, too.

Selena made a note. “Everyone, quick. Check your phones.”

One by one, they reported the same thing. “Completely drained.”

“Oooo,” Karma breathed. “We have activity already.” With the eagerness of a kid at Christmas, she looked back at Cal. “Have you seen an apparition?”

“A light-haired man. Young.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs. Antique hall mirror that’s now in a closet. It came with the house. I took it off the wall after my wife started having nightmares about it, a month ago.”

“Let’s see it and…” Lisa’s voice trailed off as she opened a door on her left and wandered into the bedroom there. She drew up short.

As did the others.

One by one, they each turned to stare at the owner.

“You really like antiques, huh?” Selena asked.

He shrugged. “I’m a historian. They’re artifacts I collect. Mostly from eBay, and friends who are anthropologists and archaeologists.”

Karma turned to Selena. “What’s the time period?”

“Babylonian. Lot of Babylonian.”

Cal nodded. “Akkadia and Sumer are my primary focus. Is that a problem?”

Karma shook her head. “You know Dr. Parthenopaeus?”

“Tory? Yeah. I’ve known her for years.”

“What about Dr. Julian Alexander?” Selena asked.

“Him, too.”

“Should we call them?” Karma whispered to her sister.

“I’m not sure. Yet. Let’s look around a little more.” Selena tucked her pen into her notebook. “Show us this mirror.”

Jo followed the others as they headed up the stairs. She was trying not to be psyched out by it all, but the thing with the batteries was really strange. Over and over, she tried to think of a logical reason for it.

She couldn’t. Nothing should cause a total discharge of power. Of all items.

That was peculiar.

Cal led them into another bedroom and opened a walk-in closet door.

“You feel that?” Jordan shivered.

Her sister nodded. “There’s something here with us.”

“Sheets,” Jo said. “Pottery. Lots and lots of rugs and art.”

They passed her an irritated glare that said her bonus might be shrinking.

Cal and Lisa brought the mirror out. Over seven feet tall, it was an impressive antique that reminded her of hundreds of such that she’d seen in the antique stores that lined Royal Street. For whatever reason, Jo had always been fascinated by mirrors, especially old ones. So much so, that she’d lined her whole room in them as a girl. Something that apparently ran in her blood, since her mother had confessed to her that she’d been the same way as a girl.

“So how many years of bad luck if you break that?” Jo was trying to lighten the mood.

All it did was tick off her companions.

“Pretend to be serious,” Mercy said with an irritable glare. “We are professionals here.”

Reminding herself that her bonus had a baby if she didn’t blow this, Jo stepped back. “Sorry.”

Bored out of her mind while they studied it and blocked it from her inspection, she glanced around the room, which had an awesome view of the

St. Louis Cathedral down the street.

Without conscious thought, she moved to the window that reflected back into the room. She saw a shadow pass over it.

Are you the one.…

She turned at the whisper. No one was there. The others were still gathered around the mirror, comparing notes and speculating oddities.

Hmmm …

Yeah, I’m losing it.

They used to do this when she was a kid. They’d act all oooo and ahhh, especially around mirrors, and see things until they’d convinced her she saw them, too.

But she knew better.

The Devereauxes were the strangest of the strange. Starting with Aunt Rocky and moving through all nine of her wacked-out, freakfest daughters.

For that matter, Jo’s mom wasn’t exactly normal. The Floras had a long line of eccentric, yet mostly lovable quacks. Even their Romanichal grandmother had a vein in her foot that she swore only protruded whenever a flood was coming. You could bet the bank on it.

But one good thing about them—family picnics and reunions were never boring.

“You coming, Jo?”

She turned at Selena’s question and realized that everyone had vacated the room while she stood daydreaming. “Right behind you.”

As she followed them around, she had to admit there was something rather creepy about the place. Bright and pathologically clean, it was unsettling.

Really, no one should have a house this immaculate while they were actually living in it.

Yeah, the house oozed oddity.

Her gaze went to Karma.

And there it is. The source of all freakiness. Jo bit back a laugh at the thought.

Ignoring them while they prattled about stuff she didn’t know nor want to learn about, she drifted toward the back door that let out into a small courtyard. She froze as she came across the most incredible mural she’d ever seen. Made out of what appeared to be panels of antique mirrors that reflected into the house, they were covered with metal pieces, fashioned to look like 3-D trees, with the back door cut in the center of them. It gave the illusion of walking into a mystical orchard.

I need this in my apartment.…

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She turned at the sound of Cal’s voice. “Yes, it is. Was it here when you bought the house?”

“No. A friend of my wife’s is an artist. He does a lot of the murals you see in these older homes.”

“I can see why.” She smiled at him. “You have the most amazing home. I know you and your wife are very proud.”

At the same time he opened his mouth to speak, Lisa called for his attention. He left her to attend them.

Alone, Jo moved closer to the metal trees to study the artistry. That took more patience than she’d ever had. But the artist in her was greatly intrigued by it.

As she gently fingered the enameled edges, her gaze went to the old, stained mirrors that had been meticulously joined together and placed for effect.

Yeah, she definitely wanted to do this with some of the ones she’d collected over the years.

A shadow light moved behind a pane.

Scowling, she turned to see if someone was behind her.

The room was empty.

Don’t be stupid. And don’t let them in your head. Not unless you plan to charge them rent. You could use the money.

Laughing at her thoughts, she went to the door, intending to investigate the courtyard where the renter of the property was said to have been buried alive during the massacre that had taken place in the home.

But as she started through the door, she tripped on the edge of the rug. Jo reached out to catch herself against the wall. Only instead of touching the mirrored panels, she went through them.

Completely.

** Extrait offert par Sherrilyn Kenyon **

Chapter 1

New Orleans, Louisiana

September 18, 2014

“You know, Selena, there’s a fine line between important to me, and dead to me. And you’re currently stomping all over it.”

Standing in the hallway, next to a stack of boxes, Selena Laurens laughed at her cousin’s surly tone. “That’s all right, Jo- Jo. Just remember with our Cajun- Romani blood, even if I’m dead to you, in either realm, you’ll still be able to hear me. I will haunt you forever.”

Josette Landry cringed at a childhood nickname that had always made her feel like a yappy Pomeranian. Normally, she’d correct Selena’s usage, but at this point, she was too tired and soul- sick to bother. “Look, the only thing I want to summon right now is a trip to Baskin- Robbins. So unless you’ve got a quart of creamy goodness in your purse, stop talking and start driving.” Jo gently tugged Selena toward the door and ignored the bells that jingled from the hem of Selena’s silver and purple broomstick skirt. A self- proclaimed fortune- teller, her cousin bought into the weirdness of their gypsy heritage lock, stock, and both flaming barrels.

Jo paused as she swept a glance from the top of Selena’s long, curly brown hair, white peasant blouse, and loud, statement moon necklace to her Birkenstock sandals.

Take that back. Selena didn’t buy into it, she rolled around in the bad ste reo type like a happy piglet in a mud factory.

Selena snorted. “Drowning your problems in Rock ’n Pop Swirl sherbet isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Forget sherbet. This day calls for Strawberry Cheesecake with fudge sauce . . . triple scoops. Now mush!”

“You’ll hate yourself in the morning.”

“I hate myself right now. At least let me hate my life with the happy memory of yummy, frozen happiness in my bulging belly.”

“Fine,” Selena groused. “I’ll even pay for it.”

“Of course you will.” Jo pulled her tattered messenger bag over her shoulder. “I’m broke.”

Selena snorted again as she dug her huge, fluffy key ring out of her hippie wicker handbag. “You’re not right, are you?”

“I’m genetically linked to your branch of the family. Of course I’m not all right. I’ll never be all right.”

Shaking her head, Selena waited while Jo locked her apartment door, though why she bothered, she had no idea. The only thing of value was her three dogs. And if the burglars were toting Beggin’ Strips, they’d happily abandon her without a fight. Evil drooling canine snots.

Jo caught a glimpse of the boxes she’d been packing through the window and winced. If her lifelong run of bad luck didn’t change soon, she would be out on the street and she’d be forced to turn her beloved dogs over to a shelter.

Or worse, her older sister.

How could it have come to this? This was not supposed to be her life. She’d never been irresponsible. While other kids went out drinking and partying, she’d stayed home and studied hard. Graduated at the top of her class. She’d scrimped and saved, and had lost her entire nest egg on lawyer fees when she’d divorced her husband for refusing to work. The reason being that if Barry Riggio was working, he wouldn’t have time to screw other women in their bed, while Jo slaved away at two jobs to support them!

Yeah. She’d never felt more betrayed or hurt. I won’t ever trust another man again.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, corporate downsizing had cost her her day job, and she’d lost her night job six weeks ago after the factory had burned down from a freak electrical fire. Overwhelmed by the failure of her life and ambitions, Jo turned toward the street and headed for the curb where Selena’s Jeep was parked. If only Selena’s husband and his law firm handled divorces, it might have saved her something. But Bill’s specialty was corporate and criminal law, not family law. And while his attorney friend had given her a discounted rate, it’d still taken every dime of her savings to offload the cheating freeloader.

“What am I going to do, Lainie?”

Selena opened the car door for her. “Breathe, honey. This too shall pass. In the meantime I can—”

“I will not take a loan from you. Ever!”

“Will you take a job?”

Jo waited until Selena got into the Jeep on the other side before she responded. “I can’t read tea leaves or palms. And if you put me in your store, be warned, I’m not sure I can leash my sarcasm.”

“Yeah, I know you and retail are a bad combination. Your uncle Jacob is still railing at family get- togethers about the one day you spent working in his garage.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic . . . I only worked there for two hours before Aunt Paulina gave me the heave- ho.”

Selena burst out laughing. “My point exactly. Anyway, as I value my customer base and respect them highly, I have no intention of putting you behind a counter where you’ll singlehandedly drive my business into the gutter. What I have for you, Ms. Snark ’Ems, is to do what you do best. Work as a camerawoman.”

Jo perked up immediately. “Oh? Really?”

Selena nodded as she navigated through traffi c. “There’s only one small catch.”

“Ah, gah, I knew it! It’s for a porn site, isn’t it?”

“No!” Selena screwed her face up, then appeared to consider it. “Although, knowing you, you’d probably prefer the porn over this assignment.”

A sick feeling settled in Jo’s stomach as she realized it had to be something paranormal, and dumber than dumb’s widow’s doorknob. “What?”

“I have some friends . . .”

“No! I’ve met your friends. I’d rather work at Tabitha’s triple- X-rated store, sorting glittered pasties and edible thongs.”

“I can arrange that, too. Just remember, you have to learn the difference between K-Y and—”

“Stop! Right there! I don’t want to know about your sister’s depravity. I’m still scarred from the story she told of finding someone’s dentures in the back thong drawer.”

“You’re such a prude.”

“Me and Amanda. The sole bastions of nonlunacy in along line of certifiable nutsos.”

Selena paused at a light to glare at her. “Do you want me to tell you about the job or not?”

“Fine,” Jo conceded reluctantly. “I’ll listen, and at least I can jump out of the car from here and walk back.”

Selena snorted. “My friends are trying to get their own cable show.”

Jo suddenly regretted her snottiness. “That actually sounds promising. What kind of show?”

“Hell’s Calling. The Women of Demonology and Possession.”

“Hello, detour back to the No-way-in-hell-will-I-do-this exit ramp.”

“Fine.” Selena turned left. “Just out of curiosity, I know it’s been almost fi ve months, but have you told your parents yet about the divorce, and your foreclosure notice?”

“I hate you, Selena.”

“No, you don’t. You love me with the passion of a thousand paparazzi after an Emma Stone exclusive.”

Jo blew her cousin a raspberry. “You keep believing those lies.”

“Not lies. I’m psychic. I know.”

Amused and disgusted, Jo rolled her eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, Selena was right. She loved and adored her quacky older cousin more than anything. Lunacy and all. “How much does this job pay? And when would they want me to start?”

“If they could find a reliable, unflappable cameraperson, they’d start tomorrow. But everyone they’ve brought onsite has fled screaming in fifteen minutes or less.”

Wow, that was impressive. Even for Selena’s group of special weirdos. “Are they that hard to work with?”

“No. They’re actually quite lovely. . . . The place they’re investigating is that haunted.”

This time, Jo gave in and burst out laughing. “You’re not serious?”

“Swear it.”

“And where are they investigating? The LaLaurie mansion?”

Selena shook her head. “Karma’s house.”

It figured. In their long familial line of peculiar characters and those willing to believe in fl ying fairies, alien possessions, and Santa Claus, Karma Devereaux was Queen Lunatica . . . the woman had even nicknamed her own son E.T. and the kid’s real name was Ian.

“Lainie, if I roll my eyes any farther back in my head, I’ll probably swallow them.”

Selena reached over and playfully Gibbs-slapped her.

“Hey!”

“You needed it. Besides, that cynicism will serve us well. We need someone who doesn’t spook onsite with the camera.”

“Yes, well, having survived many a sleepover and family reunion with you bunch of loons, I’m immune to most anything. Aunt Xilla not included.”

“Good. I’ll call everyone and tell them to be at Karma’s by eleven tomorrow. Will that work for you?”

“Maybe.” Jo narrowed her gaze on Selena as she pulled up to Baskin-Robbins. “You still haven’t told me how much I’ll make for this misbegotten journey to the Armpit of Hades, AKA Karma’s.”

“Three hundred and fifty a day, plus meals.”

Jo gaped. “You’re joshing me.”

“Nope. That’s what we’ve had to go up to, to entice anyone to the job. But we have yet to pay anyone more than twenty bucks for their fifteen-minute appearance, and most have told us to keep our money because they’re afraid it’s cursed or haunted, too.”

Jo scoffed at the paranoia. “What a bunch of superstitious pansies. . . .” But that might be a good thing for her. “You think I can get four hundred a day?”

“At this point? Probably.” Selena reached for her phone.

“I’ll text Mama Lisa and find out.”

“All right. You get me that, and you have a fearless photographer, camerawoman, gofer, janitor . . . what ever.”

“Would you be willing to spend the night there, too?”

“No,” Jo said emphatically.

Selena looked up from the phone with an arched brow. “I thought you weren’t afraid.”

“Not afraid of ghosts or demons. I’m terrifi ed of Karma. No offense, your sister’s crazy.”

“Yes, she is. Honestly, she scares me, too.” Selena’s smile widened. “Mama Lisa agrees to your price. She said that if you’ll actually make it through three days of fi lming, there’s a thousand- dollar bonus for you.”

Jo was almost ecstatic. Until the reality fairy came and slapped her. Suddenly terrified, she started searching the sky above them.

“What’s that look mean?” Selena asked as she, too, searched the heavens.

“Things are going too good.” She slid her gaze back to her cousin. “I’m waiting for lightning to strike me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a perfectly sunny day.”

“Yeah, and hell’s just a hot tub. I’m telling you, Lainie, something real bad’s going to happen. I know it.”

’Cause from the moment of her first breath, she’d been cursed. And nothing ever worked out for her.

###

Hey, Ma?”

Karma Devereaux sighed heavily as she heard her son’s call from the hallway upstairs. She stepped out of her living room to look up at the landing. “I’m a little busy, Boo. What do you need?”

As her twelve-year-old leaned over the balustrade to look down at her, his dark curls were a mess around his head as if he’d been out in a wind. Something strange, since it’d been a warm day with little breeze. “You know this freaky- creepy weird vase up here that has that moon rune writing on it? The one you told me to never touch?”

The blood left her face. “You didn’t touch it, did you?”

“Nope. But Rug made another break for freedom and when I cornered him in the room I’m not supposed to be in, I saw it on the fl oor, broken. And I swear to all that is holy, neither me nor the hamster did it. It looks like it’s been done.”

Terrified for her son, Karma ran up the stairs as fast as she could. “Did you touch anything?”

E.T. held up the hamster cuddled in his hands. “Just Rug.”

“Put him in his cage.” She waited for her son to leave before she entered the room cautiously. Dread consumed her, and as soon as she saw the broken vase, she knew why. That hadn’t fallen on the floor and broken by accident.

Something had caused it to shatter.

And that explained why there’d been so much activity in her house lately. Why everyone new ran screaming for the door.

One of the oldest, deadliest beings in the universe had been set loose.

Sick to her stomach, she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed the number of last resort.

Zeke answered on the first ring. “Pest Control by Zeke Jacobson. What’s eating your soul today?”

“You’re really not funny.”

He ignored her droll tone. “Karma? That you?”

“Yeah. We got a problem, buddy, and I need the cavalry.”

“What’d you do now?”

“I swear I didn’t do this. I’m really not sure how this happened, but . . . Valac escaped.”

“Please tell me that when you say that, you mean he’s slamming at your doors and wants out to play. Not that he’s out, out, as in out.”

“He gone. High-tailed. Skedaddled. I didn’t even know he’d broken loose. No idea when he took off.”

“Was he summoned?”

She toed at the vase. “Yeah,” she breathed. “But how did they get to him past my protection?”

“No idea. But they had to be strong and fierce in their own right. Given that, I’ve got to call out the heavy artillery.”

“You are the heavy artillery, Zeke. Isn’t that the whole point of a Necrodemian? You kill the big evil.”

“Yes and no. There are roughly one hundred known demons who are beyond our abilities to battle and kill. Those who have origins so powerful and old that they have been sealed away and are supposed to stay there. For this level of demon, we need nuclear-devastation capabilities. Only one of his ilk can battle him and put him back in his bottle without dying in the process.”

“Wait. You’re not proposing we summon a stronger, more evil demon to capture him?”

Zeke was about to draw Thorn into a horrific mess. More than anyone, Karma knew what a bad idea that was. The last thing Thorn needed was temptation. Everyday, he was slipping toward the realm of his father, she could feel it every time they talked. But Zeke was right. What choice did they have?

“Yeah, we don’t call the Hellchasers out often. They’re like rabid dogs, and we’re usually fighting them as well as the gruesomes. However, it’s the only option in this case. Unless you want Valac free to roam, and I don’t think that’s a good idea, especially with Halloween coming. Just hang tight, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Karma hung up the phone as she scanned the room where she ware housed and cleansed some of the scariest relics and items in the paranormal realm. She’d never wanted to keep Valac, but when her sister Tiyana had died, she’d inherited his guardianship. Tiyana had made her promise that should anything happen to her, Karma wouldn’t entrust his container to anyone else. Not for any reason.

Now . . .

Please don’t let this be the worst mistake of my life.

“Life wasn’t easy. It wasn’t supposed to be. Yet with the right person, even the worst journey was tolerable. More than that, it could be fun. It wasn’t about learning to suffer through the storm to make it to the daylight. Life was about running through the rain and laughing even while it soaked you to the bone. Dodging the lightning strikes and daring it to come for you.”

1- New Orleans, Louisiana - September 18, 2014

“You know, Selena, there’s a fine line between important to me, and dead to me. And you’re currently stomping all over it.”

Standing in the hallway, next to a stack of boxes, Selena Laurens laughed at her cousin’s surly tone. “That’s all right, Jo-Jo. Just remember with our Cajun-Romani blood, even if I’m dead to you, in either realm, you’ll still be able to hear me. I will haunt you forever.”

Josette Landry cringed at a childhood nickname that had always made her feel like a yappy Pomeranian. Normally, she’d correct Selena’s usage, but at this point, she was too tired and soul-sick to bother. “Look, the only thing I want to summon right now is a trip to Baskin-Robbins. So unless you’ve got a quart of creamy goodness in your purse, stop talking and start driving.” Jo gently tugged Selena toward the door and ignored the bells that jingled from the hem of Selena’s silver and purple broomstick skirt. A self-proclaimed fortune-teller, her cousin bought into the weirdness of their gypsy heritage lock, stock, and both flaming barrels.

Jo paused as she swept a glance from the top of Selena’s long, curly brown hair, white peasant blouse, and loud, statement moon necklace to her Birkenstock sandals.

Take that back. Selena didn’t buy into it, she rolled around in the bad stereotype like a happy piglet in a mud factory.

Selena snorted. “Drowning your problems in Rock ’n Pop Swirl sherbet isn’t going to solve anything.”