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Then I look toward the dark windows overlooking Saint Street.

“He is here.”

Wren nods.

“He’s in New Orleans.”

I take a slow breath.

The crimson flecks in my vision begin to burn.

Three thousand years ago, Nemesis discovered what happens when someone threatens the innocent beneath my protection.

Tonight, a mortal man named Grant Mercer is about to discover the same thing.

Chapter 8

Wren

“Promise me you won’t kill him.”

Vidar looks personally offended.

“I have made no such plans.”

“Vidar.”

“Not detailed ones.”

I plant my hands on my hips.

He sighs.

“Very well. I will not harm him unless you are in immediate danger.”

“Thank you.”

“But if he touches you…”

“Then I’ll handle it.”

His magenta eyes narrow.

“You’re testing the limits of my patience, little flower.”

I rise onto my toes and kiss his cheek.

“Good thing you’ve had three thousand years to practice.”

His mouth twitches.

“An excellent argument.”

By closing time, I’ve almost convinced myself Grant won’t show up.

I lock the flower shop and turn toward Saint Street.

“Hello, Wren.”