Chapter 3 Three

I needed a drink. No-I needed advice, perspective, and then a drink. After my encounter with Lucien, my thoughts were spinning like a Bourbon Street tourist after too many hurricanes. The Midnight Veil wasn't on any tourist maps. Nestled between a tattoo parlor and an antique bookshop on a narrow side street in the French Quarter, its neon sign flickered only on certain nights, visible only to those with supernatural sight. Tonight, the violet glow beckoned me like a lighthouse. Inside, the club pulsed with an otherworldly energy that immediately soothed my frayed nerves.

The clientele was a who's-who of New Orleans' supernatural underground, a pair of werewolves shooting pool in the corner, a cluster of fae sipping drinks that sparkled and smoked, and at least three vampires I could sense without even looking. I made my way straight to the bar where Zoe Sullivan was mixing something that changed color every few seconds. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail tonight, the tips dyed teal to match her eyes, a telltale sign of her siren heritage. "You look like you've either seen a ghost or kissed a vampire," Zoe said by way of greeting, sliding the color-changing concoction to a waiting customer. "Since I know you see ghosts regularly and don't bat an eye, I'm betting on option two." I slumped onto a barstool. "Is it that obvious?" "Honey, your aura is fluctuating between scarlet and midnight blue. It's practically screaming 'supernatural romance crisis.'" She grabbed a bottle of her special reserve, tequila infused with herbs that calmed magical energy, and poured us each a shot. "Spill." I knocked back the shot, welcoming the burn that briefly overwhelmed my internal chaos. "Remember that vampire I told you about? The one who came to my shop?" "The ridiculously hot one with the accent who you insisted was just a client?" Zoe's silver bangles jingled as she leaned forward. "Please tell me you didn't do something stupid like invite him back after hours." "Not exactly," I hedged. "He sort of... invited himself." "Of course he did." Zoe rolled her eyes. "That's Vampire 101. They can't cross thresholds without permission, but they're experts at making you want to invite them in." "It wasn't like that," I protested, then paused. "Okay, maybe it was exactly like that. But Zoe, he knows things about my family, about the Thorne line, that even Gran never told me." I gave her the condensed version: the ancient curse, my apparent ancestral connection to it, and the magical reaction when Lucien and I touched. I left out the part about the kiss that had nearly set my shop on fire. Some details were too raw, too new to share yet, even with my best friend. Zoe listened with uncharacteristic silence, her expression growing more concerned with every word. "Isadora," she said finally, her voice gentle in a way that instantly made me nervous, "you know how much I support your chaotic life choices. Hell, I've been your wingwoman for most of them. But vampires aren't like the warlocks and witches you usually date. They play by different rules." "I know the risks-" "Do you?" she interrupted. "Because from where I'm standing, you're considering breaking a seven-hundred-year-old curse that might upend the entire supernatural power structure of New Orleans. All for a vampire you met two days ago who makes your magic go sparkly." Put that way, it did sound ridiculous. I opened my mouth to defend myself when a smooth voice cut in from behind me. "Zoe's right. Though I'd question her phrasing." I turned to find Lucas Montgomery standing there, his dark hair swept back from sharp features that managed to look both aristocratic and approachable. Unlike most vampires, who dressed like they were auditioning for an Anne Rice adaptation, Lucas favored tailored suits in modern cuts. Tonight's was navy blue with a subtle pattern that caught the light. "Lucas," I said, trying to mask my surprise. "What brings New Orleans' most respectable vampire to the Veil tonight?" His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I was meeting with the owner about hosting a charity event next month. Plus, Zoe makes the best blood-infused Old Fashioned in the Quarter." Zoe snorted but began mixing his drink without being asked. I noticed her movements were more precise than usual, her casual grace taking on a performative quality. Interesting. "And now I find you here, discussing curse-breaking with the prince's newest... acquaintance." Lucas took the seat beside me, close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne. "Forgive the intrusion, but I couldn't help overhearing. Vampire hearing and all that." "How convenient," I muttered. Lucas accepted his drink from Zoe with a nod of thanks. "Isadora, I've known Lucien Alvador for over a century. While I respect him as our prince, there are things you should know before you get any deeper into... whatever this is." "Such as?" I kept my tone neutral, though irritation flickered beneath my calm exterior. I didn't need another supernatural being telling me what was best for me. "Such as the fact that Lucien has been searching for a Thorne witch for decades. Such as the real reason the curse affects him more severely than other vampires." Lucas took a sip of his drink, watching me over the rim of his glass. "Such as what happened to the last witch who tried to help him." A chill ran down my spine. "And you know all this how?" "I serve on the vampire council. It's my job to know the prince's business." Something flashed across Lucas's face, a brief conflict that vanished so quickly I might have imagined it. "Lucien is... complicated. His motivations aren't always what they seem." "Says the vampire who mysteriously appears right when we're talking about him," I pointed out. Lucas smiled thinly. "Fair point. I'm not claiming altruism. The stability of the vampire community affects my interests too." Zoe placed another shot in front of me. "Lucas might be a pain in the ass with questionable timing, but he's generally not wrong about vampire politics." She cast him a look I couldn't quite interpret. "Unfortunately." "Look," Lucas said, his voice softening, "I'm not telling you to stay away from Lucien. That would be hypocritical, considering...." He stopped abruptly, glancing at Zoe, who became suddenly fascinated with wiping down the already-clean bar. "I'm just suggesting caution. The prince has survived centuries by being several steps ahead of everyone else." Before I could respond, the hairs on my neck stood up, a warning from my witch's senses. I turned toward the door where three vampires had entered, their auras dark and hungry in a way that made my skin crawl. Their eyes scanned the room before landing on me with predatory focus. "Friends of yours?" I asked Lucas quietly. His jaw tightened. "Hardly. Rogues who've been causing trouble lately." He set down his glass. "I should have a word with them." "No need," Zoe said, nodding toward the back. "They're leaving." Sure enough, the trio was retreating through the door they'd just entered, their expressions shifting from hunger to something like fear. I caught a glimpse of what had spooked them, a tall figure in the shadows outside, just visible through the window. Lucien. "Well," Lucas said dryly, "it seems the prince is keeping a close eye on his investments." I bristled at the implication. "I'm not his investment." "We're all someone's investment in this city," Lucas replied, standing. "The question is whether the return is worth the cost." He laid a bill on the bar that was far too large for a single drink. "Think about what I said, Isadora. And Zoe...." His expression softened fractionally. "Take care." After he left, Zoe and I sat in silence for a moment. "There's something you're not telling me about you and Lucas," I said finally. She shrugged, but I caught the tension in her shoulders. "Ancient history. Like, literally ancient, we're talking Prohibition era." She topped off my drink. "The more important question is what you're going to do about your vampire prince and his curse." "He's not my vampire prince," I protested automatically. "Honey, he just scared off three rogues without even entering the bar. He's either stalking you or protecting you, and with vampires, it's usually both." Zoe squeezed my hand. "Just promise me you'll be careful. I can't rescue you from a vampire stronghold, my voice doesn't work on them like it does on humans." I promised, though we both knew my version of "careful" often involved walking right into the danger I should be avoiding. An hour later, I said goodnight to Zoe and headed out through the back exit that led to a quieter street. The night air was thick with humidity, carrying the scents of jasmine and aged stone that made the Quarter feel timeless. I sensed them before I saw them, the same three vampires from the bar, waiting in the alley ahead. Without Lucien's shadowy presence to deter them, they'd grown bold again. "Lost, little witch?" the tallest one called, his New Orleans drawl at odds with the predatory gleam in his eyes. "French Quarter can be dangerous after dark." I summoned my magic, feeling it rise like electricity in my fingertips. "I know my way around. And I'm not in the mood for company." They laughed, spreading out to block my path. "We insist," said another, this one with a scar cutting through his eyebrow. "Our employer is very interested in meeting a Thorne witch." So this wasn't random. Someone had sent them specifically for me. "Your employer should work on his recruitment techniques," I said, backing up slowly. The protection amulet at my throat grew warm, activating in response to the threat, but it wouldn't hold off three vampires for long. "Now, gentlemen," came a familiar accented voice from behind me, "is that any way to treat the lady I've been looking forward to seeing all day?" Lucien stepped past me, placing himself between me and the rogues. He wore the same charcoal gray as before, but now the elegant cut of his clothes seemed to emphasize the lethal grace with which he moved. "This doesn't concern you, Alvador," Scar said, though I noticed he'd taken a step back. "A witch under my protection, accosted in my territory?" Lucien's voice remained conversational, but I felt the air around us cool by several degrees. "I'd say that very much concerns me." What happened next occurred too quickly for human eyes to track. There was a blur of movement, the sound of something solid hitting stone, and suddenly Scar was pinned against the wall, Lucien's hand around his throat. "Who sent you?" Lucien asked quietly. "No one! We just thought-" "You didn't think." Lucien tightened his grip. "And now you'll deliver a message. The Thorne witch is under my personal protection. Anyone who touches her answers to me. Understood?" All three nodded frantically. When Lucien released him, Scar slid down the wall, hand at his throat. "Go," Lucien said, and they vanished into the night. He turned to me then, his burgundy eyes searching my face. "Are you hurt?" "Only my pride," I admitted. "I should have sensed the ambush." "They've been following you since you left your shop." His mouth tightened. "I've been... concerned since our conversation last night. It seems I was right to be." I should have been angry at the implied surveillance, but the fact that three vampires had been stalking me without my knowledge overrode my indignation. "You think someone knows about the curse research." "Or suspects." He offered his arm in an oddly old-fashioned gesture. "May I see you home? I promise to behave as a perfect gentleman, despite evidence to the contrary from our last meeting." The reference to our kiss brought heat to my cheeks. "I can take care of myself." "Of that, I have no doubt," he said seriously. "But I'd rest easier knowing you were safely home." Against my better judgment, a recurring theme where Lucien was concerned, I took his arm. The now-familiar spark of magic danced between us at the contact, more subdued than during our kiss but still unmistakable. We walked in silence for a block before I spoke. "Lucas Montgomery approached me tonight. He had some interesting things to say about you." "Lucas is loyal to the old guard," Lucien said carefully. "He sees change as a threat to stability." "Is he wrong?" Lucien considered this as we turned onto a quieter street. "Change is always destabilizing initially. The question is whether what follows is worth the disruption." He glanced down at me. "What else did Lucas say?" "That you've been looking for a Thorne witch for decades. That the curse affects you differently than other vampires." I hesitated. "And something about what happened to the last witch who tried to help you." His expression darkened. "That's a conversation better had in private, not on a public street." "Is that what awaits me if I keep these candles burning? More danger and cryptic warnings from other vampires?" We'd reached my building, a converted warehouse with my shop on the ground floor and my apartment above. I released his arm and turned to face him, trying to ignore how the streetlight caught the angles of his face. "I won't lie to you, Isadora," Lucien said, his voice low. "Helping me means challenging centuries of supernatural politics. It means making powerful enemies." He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away before his fingers brushed my cheek. Blue sparks followed his touch. "But it also means discovering what this is between us. What it could become." The magic hummed between us, a tangible thing that called to something deep inside me. I thought of Gran's warnings about vampires, of Lucas's cryptic cautions, of Zoe's concerned face. Then I thought of the kiss that had lit my entire shop with blue flame. "Goodnight, Lucien," I said, stepping back before I could do something foolish like invite him upstairs. "I need to think." He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Until tomorrow, then. Or not. The choice is entirely yours." As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, I couldn't help looking back. He remained on the sidewalk, a still figure watching to ensure I entered safely. Only when I waved from my window did he finally turn and disappear into the night, leaving me alone with decisions that suddenly felt much bigger than a simple candle flame.