Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem #2)(32)

I stared after her for a second, wanting to follow. Wanting to see Darius and Moss for myself, wanting to help. They’d set me up in a bad way, but it wasn’t in me to hold a grudge. In the end, they’d stepped up to protect me. I couldn’t argue with that.

But Marie was right. For some reason, something in my magic had set off that really old vampire, and if she had survived, I would just set her off again.

I sighed and slouched, bone-tired, before starting off down the street, no direction in mind. I needed to call Callie and Dizzy. I shouldn’t stay with them long term, maybe, but one more night wouldn’t kill me.

A lump formed in my throat. I should also probably call Reagan and tell her what had happened. She’d want to know.

I brushed my side and a sickening realization dawned. I’d left my handbag in the house, which meant I didn’t have my phone or money for a cab.

I stopped up short. I was in the French Quarter, where all manner of things went on, looking like I’d just walked out of Thunderdome, without a car, a place to go, or money. Most importantly, like Reagan had pointed out the other day, without any street smarts.

“Shhhii—” I ducked my head, cutting the swear short. Karma had clearly gotten me into this mess somehow, and I didn’t want to make it worse by defying my mother. Sounded stupid, but there was no denying she’d kept me safe for twenty-four years.

Then again, she’d rarely allowed me to leave the house.

“Okay, Penny, think.” I bit my lip and looked back toward Darius’s house. A few more lights from surrounding houses had clicked on.

There was probably no way I could just pop back over, tiptoe around the mess, and grab my forgotten handbag…

I turned in the opposite direction, racking my brain for a way out of this mess. If any of the mages from the party the other night lived in the area, I didn’t remember. The only other species I knew that hung out here that might be friendly were…the shifters.

That guy Red had called me when I’d first come, after all. He’d said to call if I needed anything.

He hung out in the bars up near the river. That was where I needed to head.

Fifteen or so minutes later, I was hurrying through the mostly quiet streets, my cheap shoes squeaking dramatically. Before I reached the stretch of bars, the street opened up, the lane splitting around a grassy island area that housed a few groups of loiterers, still awake despite the hour and chatting on makeshift chairs or the ground.

I clutched my sweater a little tighter over my chest, looking straight ahead so as not to make eye contact with someone who might think I was open for business. Granted, ladies of the night probably wore nicer-looking, or certainly more revealing, apparel, but these guys probably fell in the “beggars can’t be choosers” camp.

“Hey, pretty lady,” someone called from across the street. A few hoarse chuckles followed.

I grimaced, looking sideways at a flare of light. A man cupped a lighter to his glass pipe. The flame was sucked through the barrel of the pipe, illuminating his unibrow and dirty forehead.

“I’m just minding my own business,” I said softly, picking up the pace. My shoes protested.

“Hey,” some guy shouted, his voice ringing across the quiet early morning. “I said hey!”

The someone’s-watching-me itch from earlier flared to life with a vengeance, so furious that I stutter-stepped to a stop and couldn’t help looking. A couple guys in the grassy island glanced over, without any real interest. Across the street, in a weed-choked area beneath a large, leafy tree, movement flickered, catching my eye. The shape stilled almost immediately, covered in heavy shadow, but I could just make out the form of a stocky character looking my way, watching me. The way his body was braced against the tree, sitting but not at rest, rose my hackles.

He wasn’t like the others in this area, lounging with a bottle or his drug of choice—he was here for a purpose.

Was that purpose me?

Butterflies of anticipation filled my stomach, and the pressure of danger pressed on my chest.

Gritting my teeth, I turned away and started to walk—no, swagger. Predators liked to chase. They liked to hunt. If I acted nonchalant, maybe the watcher would have second thoughts.

Sensitive to the sounds around me, I put distance between myself and the collection of people behind me.

Breathing got a little easier with every step, and I slowed as I approached the bar where Red usually hung out. I just hoped he was there. Based on the mostly quiet street, the odds weren’t entirely favorable. The bars were clearly closed.

I drifted close to the wall and into the shadows, hunching to make myself smaller. I peeked around the corner like a creep, listening hard. Shifters kept late hours. The bar was closed, but maybe the partygoers hadn’t all gone home. The two big guys loitering outside would support that theory. If they were shifters, they’d likely know Red and let me inside. Or they’d call him.

If not, I needed to come up with another plan. And quick. The itch between my shoulder blades had diminished, but if the Guild was in this area, they’d be roaming around. Any one of them might seize the chance to try and grab me. Given how weak I felt after the display at Darius’s house, that could be disastrous.

Straining, I pointed my ear in their direction, but it was soon apparent that they were either quiet or mute. I couldn’t hear a single word.

Blowing out a breath, I racked my brain for a fix to the problem, and almost immediately (albeit belatedly) remembered the concealment spell I’d created in the Guild compound.