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but kept her face carefully neutral.
    â€œWhy would you ask that?” He was all cop now, not a trace of future brother-in-law in sight.
    Caitlin put on her most innocent, spacey, younger sister frown. “I had a very bad Tarot reading this morning.” Well, it was true, wasn’t it? “I came to you because I thought you might know, and if you didn’t, I thought maybe you should know.”
    Jagger studied her, and she knew he was perplexed. That’s fine, be perplexed. But he knew she was aKeeper, and he would not be inclined to dismiss her premonitions and readings; keeping watch on the town was her job, by ancient decree, just as much as it was Fiona’s. Caitlin decided to push just a little bit harder. She let her lip tremble appealingly. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.” She turned toward the door to go.
    Behind her, Jagger said, “As a matter of fact, there’s been a string of drug deaths. It looks like a bad batch of meth.”
    Caitlin turned slowly, and this time she studied his face. It was clear that wasn’t the whole story. “But…” she prompted.
    â€œBut…” His eyes fixed hers intently, and for a moment she felt guilty for manipulating him. “There’s something off about the lab reports, and it’s been bothering me.”
    â€œHmm. Drugs. I didn’t see anything about drugs in the cards.” She frowned in concentration, while inside she remembered the Devil card, which had been in the center of the spread. Of all the cards, it was the strongest indicator of addiction, of dangerous substances. But she wasn’t about to say that.
    â€œI did get the Illusion card,” she pondered aloud. “It was prominent in the spread. Illusion often means addiction. Alcohol. Drugs.” She was improvising for Jagger’s benefit—she’d already gotten all she needed to know.
    â€œWell…as long as you’re on top of it, I won’t worry too much,” she concluded brightly. “I’ll see you back at the compound, I guess.”
    As she turned to go, Jagger said her name with such quiet force that she had to turn. “Cait.”
    He looked into her face, and she had to stop herself from squirming. “Please keep me informed—if you get any more signs.”
    â€œOh, I will,” she assured him sweetly. “You’ll be the first to know.”
    Not, she added silently as she headed for the door.
    In the hall outside, she could barely contain her elation. She had a real clue now with the drug deaths.
    I can do this. I can figure it out on my own. I don’t need anyone at all.
    Because if whatever was going on had anything to do with drugs, she knew exactly where to go to find out.

Chapter 4
    B ourbon Street.
    New Orleans’ most famous tourist attraction, the sleazy, noisy, rowdy, free-for-all strip that stretched fourteen blocks from Canal Street almost to Esplanade. It was closed to automobile traffic every night of the week so tourists and revelers could walk unimpeded down the rough pavement, taking in the street performers, dodging—or inviting—the bead-throwing partiers on the balconies above, dropping in through the wide-open doors of every music club, strip club, bar, souvenir shop, voodoo shop and sex toy shop along the way. Bourbon was a wild and woolly, nonstop circus of decadence and indulgence.
    Caitlin hated it.
    There were so many pleasures in New Orleans, sensual and otherwise, that were so much more complicated and rewarding than boorish Bourbon…although it did serve the purpose of keeping the more obnoxious visitors to NOLA confined in one easily avoidable part of the city.
    What fewer people knew was that Bourbon was where many of the city’s shapeshifters naturally gravitated. More obviously, it was also the drug capital of the Quarter.
    Before venturing up to Bourbon, Caitlin waited for dark, since the shifters she