Howl of the Wolf (7 page)

Mordecai was training most of his troops, but Agmar was in charge of Hades’ elite guard. These were the demons he would take with him when the invasion of the world began. He trusted them at his back in a way he could not trust Mordecai. These demons feared him. The serpent did not.

But that would change. And soon.

Satisfied all was as it should be, Hades continued on to his private quarters, reviewing his plans all the way there.

Chapter Four

A renewed sense of hope filled Sabrina as she made her way home late the next afternoon. Although she’d thought she’d never be able to close her eyes after what had happened in her apartment last evening, she’d slept like a baby—once she’d managed to get to sleep. It had taken her several hours after her friends left before she’d even begun to relax. Every noise, from the creaking of the building to the swish of the wind outside her window had her breaking out in a cold sweat.

Maybe the worst was over.

And maybe she had some swampland she could sell to a northern land developer. She was lying to herself and she knew it. She had the sense that whatever was out there was simply biding its time. Waiting. Watching.

“Shake it off,” she muttered. She’d had a great day in the Square, selling several more paintings and art cards, as well as doing several charcoal sketches that had immediately been purchased by the tourists who’d watched her draw them. She’d had an excellent month so far and had sold far more canvases than she’d anticipated. It would soon be time to hit the art shop for more supplies.

Her easel, stool and remaining paintings seemed extra heavy today and she hitched them over her shoulders. She wished she lived a bit closer, or could at least afford a car. Maybe she should look into a rolling cart of some kind. Not a bad idea. She’d made extra money this month and could afford it. A cart would allow her to carry more paintings with her to sell in the Square, and she could write off the cost as a business expense.

Pleased with the idea, she mulled over the possibilities as she continued her journey toward home. Her cell phone rang, interrupting her musings, and she sighed before setting down her belongings and digging through her tote. The phone was in here somewhere. She pulled it out, glanced at the call display and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. How are you doing?” It was the fifth time Tilly had called her today, but Sabrina appreciated her friend’s concern.

“Doing good. Had a great day.” She shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun, loving the warmth upon her skin. “Heading home to get cleaned up and changed before I hit the café.” She was doing tarot readings at Café Ledet again tonight. Then her schedule would ease off slightly. All her evenings between Friday and Sunday were left open for serious painting time as well as time with her friends. Her life was full and busy, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Don’t forget to eat something.”

“Yes, Mother,” she replied wryly. Tilly’s deep, full laughter filled her ears.

“Okay,” Tilly responded. “I’ll take the hint and try not to nag, at least not too much.”

Sabrina sobered. “I appreciate your concern and your help. I’ll be at the café in a couple of hours.”

“Why don’t you take the evening off and rest?” Tilly suggested. “You don’t have any booked appointments, just drop-ins. I can call one of the other women to take your place.”

An evening alone at home. Normally, she’d be thrilled with the idea, but after what had happened there last night, not so much. But it would allow her to start work on a new painting, maybe even watch some television or read a book. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done either of those last two things.

“I think I’ll do that, Tilly.”

“I know I said I wouldn’t nag, but stop somewhere and pick up something to eat.”

“I will,” she promised. “I’ll call you later.” She said goodbye and tucked her phone back into her tote. Gathering her waning strength, she hoisted her belongings onto her shoulder and trudged toward home.

She loved walking Decatur Street. There was always so much to see, to hear and to smell. There were people everywhere, wearing all different kinds of clothing. Folks from all walks of life, from the very poor to the ultra-rich were all drawn to this city. The languages ranged from English to Cajun and everything in-between, various dialects and accents giving the sound a musical quality. And speaking of music, it poured out of the various bars and restaurants she passed, some of it classy and low, while some of it was loud and toe tapping. And the smells. The smells made her mouth water and her stomach growl.

She’d promised Tilly she’d pick up something to eat, but she didn’t have enough arms to carry everything. It would be easier to call in an order to her favorite takeout and have them deliver.

Now that she’d made the decision, she was excited about taking an evening off. Maybe Jessica would come over and join her. They’d spent most of the day together, selling their goods in Jackson Square, but Jessica was usually up for a girl’s night.

And she was putting off being alone. Her smile faded as she began to realize just how frightened she was to go home. And that pissed her off. She was no coward, and no otherworldly entity was going to drive her out of her own home.

She was Esmeralda LeGrande’s granddaughter. She wasn’t one to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble. That apartment was her home, her sanctuary. Hers.

The pep talk did her good and put a slight skip in her step. She kept her pace as fast as she could. She was already sweating in the heat and was looking forward to a cool bath when she got home. She usually took showers but didn’t think she could close the shower curtain when she was there alone. Still, a bath would be nice. A soak in a tub of tepid water would cool her heated skin and make her feel fresh and invigorated.

She almost made it past her favorite shop, really she did. It wasn’t her fault she stopped, not really. Jules’ Treasures was part-antique store, part-thrift shop, and he always had interesting things for sale. He always placed some of them on the sidewalk out front to tempt her and other unsuspecting passersby.

“You don’t need anything.” Her brain might have been listening, but her feet weren’t. They slowed, gradually coming to a halt in front of an interesting display of old carnival memorabilia.

“Just got them in today.” Jules Montrose leaned against the doorjamb of his shop and smiled at her, his teeth gleaming, his dark skin smooth and unlined in spite of his age. Sabrina really had no idea how old he was, but he was a dear friend of Granny Esmeralda.

She set her belongings down and leaned them against the building. “Tell me about all this stuff.” More than the things themselves, she loved the stories behind them, the lives entwined with the material possessions. And Jules always had a story.

He smoothed a hand down his crisp blue shirt and his smile widened. He knew he had her hooked. “Well, these here signs are from a genuine traveling carnival, the kind that used to travel all over the country, heck all over the world back at the turn of the last century.” His eyes took on a faraway appearance, as though he was lost in the past. “I remember this one myself. Went to it back in the late fifties, or maybe it was the early sixties.” He frowned. “Doesn’t matter much, I suppose. The theme parks pretty much put them out of business by the late seventies, early eighties. Might still be a few small ones going around, but they’re nothing the size the old ones were.”

Sabrina perched on the window ledge beneath the awning. She pointed to a sign about eight feet long and three feet high. “Shade’s Carnival.” She said the name aloud, trying to visualize how the sign would have looked in its prime. The paint was chipped and the light bulbs were missing from most of the sign, but it was easy enough for her to imagine it lit up, drawing folks toward the fair grounds.

Jules nodded. “That’s right.” He pointed to a smaller sign, which listed the prices for the rides—three tickets for a turn on the Ferris wheel and two for a turn in the funhouse. “From the price of a ticket, I’d say this might have been one of the last big shows still touring the country.”

Another sign caught her eye. Like the rest, it was weather worn, the blue, red and gold painting chipped and peeling. This one advertised a man who could eat fire and swallow swords, a knife-thrower, magic tricks, a contortionist and a fortuneteller. Very cool. She wished she could have visited the carnival and seen some of the acts.

Jules cleared his throat, drawing her attention away from the sign. She knew what that meant and it wasn’t going to be good for her wallet. Still, she had to ask. “What else have you got?”

He rubbed his large hands together and motioned her inside. “Got something I set aside for you to see before I put it out on display. Knew you’d be interested.”

Sabrina could feel her bank account shrinking even as she gathered her belongings and trudged into the shop behind Jules. Whenever he said those words it cost her money. Of course, he knew what she liked. She had a respectable collection of framed vintage postcards and prints and some really nice antique tarot decks that Jules had found for her.

The inside of the store was much darker than the outside and she blinked to adjust to the dimmer light. “Just leave your things behind the counter and follow me,” Jules instructed.

Anticipation made her blood hum. Not something small if he wasn’t keeping it tucked behind the counter for her. She dumped her belongings as instructed and wound her way through the warren of items, sidestepping a slightly battered leather trunk that had great potential as a coffee table, swerving around a chair that had to be at least one hundred years old, and squeezing past a rather large mahogany hutch that would take up half her dining area.

“This way,” Jules called. He was already through the door that led to his backroom.

Butterflies lurched in her stomach. The backroom was like the doorway to a magical kingdom, the wardrobe into Narnia, the rabbit hole to Wonderland. She’d only been allowed back here a few times in her life and each time had been an adventure. There was stuff piled everywhere, and only Jules knew what it all was and where it was located. Nothing was listed on a computer. Everything was organized in Jules’ brain. He could put his hands on anything at a moment’s notice and tell you the provenance of the item.

She halted in the doorway, a sudden fear descending on her. Her blood hummed and she knew, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever Jules was about to show her would change her life forever. She tried to shake off the sensation but couldn’t. Her intuition was screaming at her, louder than it ever had.

Sabrina gripped the doorframe. “Well, what is it?”

Jules flicked on a light that illuminated a dark corner of the storage room. The gasp caught in her throat. She blinked, unable to believe her eyes. Her hand fell away from the doorjamb and her feet moved forward. Hand extended, she reached for the wolf.

He was massive, much larger than any real wolf. And she knew in her heart the wolf had to be male. He was much too large to be a female.

The wolf was magnificent. Primal. Elemental. There weren’t any other words that could describe him. His flanks seemed to ripple, as though he was caught in mid-stride. His mouth was open in a silent snarl, exposing razor-sharp fangs. This was no softened version of the wolf, but a depiction of him at his most primitive and powerful.

“Where did you get him?” Sabrina was almost afraid to touch him. Afraid he wouldn’t be real.

“This incredible creature was part of a carousel ride that belonged to the carnival. Guess the ride fell into disrepair over the years and they sold off the rest of the animals. All that was left was this guy.”

Her fingers grazed the wolf’s flanks. She yanked her hand away, surprised at how the tips of her fingers tingled. For a brief second, he’d felt as though he was more flesh and bone than wood and paint.

“Can you turn on another light?” She really wanted to have a better look at him. The dim light and the layer of dust covering him prevented her from seeing him very well.

“This is as good as it gets. Almost all the lights blew this morning. It was the damndest thing.” Jules shrugged. “One of my cousin’s boys is an electrician and he’s coming in tomorrow to check things out.” He shrugged. “Old wiring probably needs replacing.”

Oh well, it didn’t matter how well she could see the wolf, she knew she wanted him. “How much?” Not that it mattered. She had to have him, supposing she lived off rice and beans for the next five years.

She glanced at Jules and found him scratching his head. “Don’t rightly know, Sabrina. Never had anything like him before.”

“When has that ever stopped you?”

Her wry reply made him laugh, and he grinned. “You got that right, little girl. But this time is different.”

A shiver raced down her spine. She glanced at the wolf, unable to deny the wave of longing that went through her. She
had
to have him. He’d fit perfectly in the corner of her living room and could watch over her and protect her.

The fanciful thought made her smile in spite of the ball of dread curling in her belly. The wolf was her guardian, her protector, and she had a permanent reminder inked on her back. Her tattoo tingled and she resisted the urge to touch it.

“Different how?”

Jules rubbed a hand over his short, graying hair. “I had a dream about your granny last night.”

That caught her attention, and she reluctantly left the wolf and hurried to Jules. “What was it about?”

Jules pulled out an eighteenth century English chair and sat. He motioned to her to do the same. The chair she found was orange hard plastic and obviously dated from the late sixties or early seventies. She pulled the chair close enough so their knees were almost touching.

His face was troubled, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual. “Esme was telling me that the wolf belonged to you. She was also worried about you, girl.”

Sabrina swallowed back emotion. She missed her granny so much and wished she could talk to her. She was also jealous of Jules’ dream. Why couldn’t she dream about her granny instead of mysterious lovers and scary, disembodied voices? “Did she say why she was worried?”