Rusted Veins: A Sabina Kane Novella Read Online Free PDF Page B

wide open and a warm glow from inside invited passersby to duck in and explore. And there was plenty to see. Every inch of wall space was filled with masks and shelves full of colorful bottles and gourd rattles and crosses and skulls. The air smelled of dust and dried herbs and something dark and spicy I couldn’t begin to identify. When we walked in, a little silver bell rang near the back of the store, where a curtain separated the selling floor from the offices in the back. To the right of that was a staircase that led to the sleeping quarters upstairs and Zen’s workshop.
    Zen came out from behind the curtain. When she saw us standing there, she whispered something to the girl behind the counter and walked over to join us. Her braided black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a long, loose gown covered in a batik print. On another woman the dress would have looked frumpy, but she managed to make it look both elegant and earthy. Her face was tense and she didn’t waste breath with pleasantries. “Brooks is upstairs.” Then she turned on her heel and made her way up the steps, expecting us to follow.
    She led us to the second-floor workroom, where she made all of her tinctures, poultices, and gris-gris bags. Drying chicken feet hung alongside bundles of sage and other herbs dried from long lines attached to the ceiling. A long wooden table, glossy and dark with age, bisected the room. Brooks stood on the side opposite the door when we all filed in. In front of him was a thick, leather-bound book, which he closed when we entered. “Where y’at?” His tone lacked the jovial Southern charm it normally contained.
    Giguhl leapt off my shoulder onto the table and went to his friend. “How you doing?” He plopped his furless butt right next to the diary. I noticed Zen’s eyebrows rise, but she didn’t protest the cat tainting her sacred workspace.
    Brooks shrugged and pushed his thick black frames higher on his nose. “Worried.”
    “Is that Cadence’s diary?” I asked, ready to get down to business.
    “Yeah. I hate to invade her privacy, but it’s all we have to go on.”
    “Did you find anything?” Giguhl prompted.
    Brooks nodded. “She had several diaries in her apartment, going back years. This one covers the last four years.”
    Adam tensed beside me. A quick look in his direction and I realized he was staring at the book in question as if it were a snake. That’s when it hit me that the same diary that could help us find her might also contain secrets about her and Adam that he might not want me to know.
    Part of me, the side ruled by the demon of bad choices, wanted to grab it and flip back to the time when she and Adam were together. But my more practical angelic side reminded me that picking that particular scab would only lead to unnecessary pain. The old me would have told the angel to take a hike and tackle the Changeling for the diary, but the new me, the one who enjoyed happiness and peace in my life, grabbed her man’s hand and squeezed. This was awkward for me, but it had to be hellish for Adam.
    He squeezed back and forced a smile before releasing my hand. “So what did you find out?”
    Brooks didn’t quite meet Adam’s gaze. A sure sign he’d read the pages my bad-choices-side wanted to read so much. “For the last couple of weeks, her entries have mentioned the same name repeatedly.”
    “Well?” Giguhl asked.
    “Damascus White.”
    Oh shit , I thought. “Damascus White, as in the leader of the New Orleans vampire coven?”
    Brooks nodded and held up the book. “The weird thing is that even though she’s pretty detailed with her entries, whenever she mentions Damascus, she’s very sketchy.” He opened the diary and read from it. “This entry is dated a week ago. ‘Damascus called again. He won’t take no for an answer.’”
    Adam and I exchanged a look. “Why would the leader of the vampire coven be asking out a mage?” I asked.
    “You’re assuming a lot,”