Charmed in the Big Easy by Delilah Devlin;Paisley Smith

Author:Delilah Devlin;Paisley Smith
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc.
Published: 2012-06-05T04:00:00+00:00

THE MAMBO’S DOOR

By Delilah Devlin

Dedication

Thanks go to S.K. Whiteside, my NOLA expert on the ground.

It’s nice to have friends in all the right places.

Chapter One

A drunk on the sidewalk bumped past Ingrid Kassel.

Instinctively, she turned her head and issued a hiss, baring teeth. Not that she had fangs to back up the warning, but her temper simmered at a slow, angry boil and her reactions weren’t entirely her own. A single taste of blood had ignited a hunger for more, it seemed, and the loss of control pissed her off.

If this was what it felt like to be a vampire, it was a damn good thing she was a witch.

Ever since Magda, the coven’s priestess, had given her Elena Csintalan’s blood to drink to lend her strength for her quest, Ingrid had fought to retain a sense of self.

The moment the viscous fluid had slid down her throat the ground had swayed, shifting under her feet. Magda had urged her to drink more—more than she’d given MeLeah—her vivid eyes glinting with excitement.

With a dizzy shake of her head, Ingrid’s sight had changed—shadowy corners resolving into stark relief. Her sense of smell had refined so that now she could still detect the sour odor of cheap whiskey emanating from the skin of the drunk even though he’d shuffled around the corner. A feeling of invulnerability, of superhero strength, burned through her blood, hardening her muscles. She felt ready to test her newfound but temporary powers on the first person who looked at her crosswise.

And that just wasn’t her. Or if it was, she’d been really good at being a quiet, dutiful girl for so long that she’d convinced herself she wasn’t a grumpy badass.

Ingrid checked her watch and cursed. She was late. She’d stopped by her one-room apartment to dress in a long-sleeved black tee, dark jeans and running shoes. She’d clipped her blonde hair into a messy bun and stuck a black ball cap on her head to cover it.

All so she could blend in to the darkness. As if she were dressing up for a second-story job. Like Tom Cruise ready to zip down a wire.

Then she’d decided to pick up some supplies. The trip to the convenience store had taken longer than it should have because every drunk in the city had been in line to buy hooch for the night.

MeLeah was likely already heading back to Magda with her charged relic. If Ingrid didn’t hurry, the magickal energy from MeLeah’s talisman would dissipate and the spell wouldn’t work. Why they couldn’t have accomplished their tasks together was a mystery, but there was a lot she didn’t understand about the murky underworld she’d entered a year ago.

Most of the time, she simply banked her irritation with things she didn’t comprehend and saved her questions, reminding herself that she was still a fledgling witch and the others expected her to learn the craft in measured layers.

However, even without the vampire booster shot she’d drunk, she wasn’t a patient person.

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