Easy access for the owners was even easier access for the thief.
By the time we were at the end of Bourbon and onto the comparative quiet of Canal, he was wearing four watches and had gotten his hands on at least a dozen other goodies I couldn’t see.
I kept telling myself I didn’t care, but I was equal measures impressed and infuriated with him.
Finding the parts of him that reflected Seth was difficult too. Unless he lost his temper, he had none of the righteous flare of the storm god. I’d known him less than three hours, but he wasn’t at all what I’d expected him to be.
Though, to be fair, I thought he’d be a child.
Out on Canal the crowds thinned, and I was able to see farther down the blocks in each direction. Mostly tourists and drunk college kids filled the street, and everyone was in motion, going about their business. I released my hold on Leo, the stolen Rolex jangling loosely on my wrist.
“What had you so spooked back there?” He turned around so he was facing me. “You don’t look like much, but you can push like a fucking bulldozer.”
I was still scanning the streets. “Which way is your apartment?”
He nodded in the opposite direction from the way we’d come. He’d let me lead us in the wrong direction. If he was anyone else, I would have saved Manea the trouble and killed him myself.
“Is this a game to you?”
“No. But since I have no idea what’s going on, you’ll have to forgive me if I have trouble taking you seriously. I mean, you literally appear from out of nowhere in my apartment, tell me my real father is a god, tell me the goddess of ghosts relayed some very personal information to you, and then suggest I leave with you because the goddess of death wants me dead. Like…can you possibly appreciate why I think you might be making this shit up?”
Well, if he put it like that.
“Can you try to trust me for now, and believe me later? Trust that even if you think I’m crazy—which I’m not—that my goal here is to save your life?”
“Isn’t this the plot of Terminator 2?”
“I’m not from the future, you infuriating asshole.”
“No, just sent by the gods.”
I’d never wanted to punch someone so badly in my whole life, and that included the guy who’d called me a dumb bitch three minutes earlier.
“When you meet him, I expect a thorough apology.”
“Sure.”
I was bumped from the side as a drunk girl on too-high heels passed us heading towards the party. I instinctively checked for my wallet after seeing how Leo played his game, only to remember I had nothing of value with me. The rumpled twenties were still in my pocket, untouched.
I glanced behind me, wondering if the girl was working an angle, and I froze.
They were everywhere.
At least four of Manea’s undead were moving through the crowd towards us, oblivious to the people staggering around them and jostling them from all sides. Down Canal, to my right, two more were approaching slowly but steadily, and to my left were two more.
I scanned my surroundings frantically, trying to find the best possible escape route that would get the fewest number of bystanders injured as a result. My gaze landed on an upper balcony, above a bar playing loud hip-hop.
There, with beads draped from his hands and a slight, taunting smirk, was Prescott McMahon, and he was staring right at us.
Chapter Nineteen
I didn’t need Cade with me to be swimming in a sea of bad luck.
Imagine how terrible things might have been if he were here.
I shudder to think.
“Leo, remember how I told you death was coming for you?”