“I told you, it—”
“I was talking to your partner,” Ava snapped.
Ty growled softly but let Zane answer, mumbling under his breath as he paced away.
Zane glanced between them. He could see the possibility of chemistry there. A lot of flash and bang . . . much like himself and Ty. Had Ty ever been in a relationship that hadn’t either begun or ended with open animosity?
“We found it in a standard search,” Zane said, wondering how familiar she was with law enforcement procedures.
“Bullshit.” She put her nose closer to the mossy substance on the cloth. “Probably found it having sex.”
Zane snorted. He wasn’t getting any threatening vibe off her, and he kind of liked how direct she was.
She cocked her head at Zane as if sizing him up. Then she turned the other way, to Ty. He was watching her from several feet away, hands in his pockets.
“What was it?” she asked him. “Migraine? Stomach bug?”
“Kidney stone.”
She snorted and nodded. Zane narrowed his eyes, not happy that she’d known something had been wrong with Ty. He pressed his lips together tightly. He didn’t like putting any stock in this voodoo stuff, but he seemed to be the only one. And he had to admit, it was pretty coincidental that Ty had been struck down with a kidney stone on the same night he’d slept over a hoodoo bad luck magnet.
“I don’t recognize the work,” she said stiffly after examining the bag and its contents.
“You’re lying,” Ty hissed.
She smacked her hand against the table.
“Is it your father’s?”
She didn’t answer, still staring at the tabletop.
Ty got in her face and lowered his voice. “Is it Shine’s?”
She jerked her head away and closed her eyes.
“Who is Shine?” Zane ventured to ask.
Ty straightened, looking grim. “Ava’s brother.”
She frowned. “It’s more refined than his work usually is. And its purpose is . . .” She shook her head. “This level of skill is beyond me, and I would say it’s beyond Shine, but I haven’t spoken to him in a year. I don’t know where he’s been or what he’s been into.”
Ty grunted, stepped forward, and placed the second alligator tooth on the corner of the cloth, along with the roll of parchment with his alias on it. “I kept that out.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. She picked up the paper and studied the calligraphy. “That does make things clearer. It seems it was meant to do you great harm. How many people here want to kill you? Because with this in your pocket, they will all find you.”
“You tell me,” Ty said gruffly. He was standing at her shoulder, large and grim next to her.
She met his eyes and straightened her shoulders. “I didn’t tell anyone who you really were. Not even my dad.”
Ty didn’t look surprised. More relieved.
But Zane wasn’t all that taken aback. “If she’d told anyone, it would have cast doubt on her as well, just by association. Especially since you were . . . close.”
Ty nodded and moved to sit in one of the chairs beside her. Ava was doggedly staring at the red felt bag. “So . . . my cover?”
“Is still intact,” she told him grudgingly. “Although I told everyone you left me for the Russian whore, so you’re still an ass.”
Ty grunted at Zane. “She means she told everyone I ran from the hurricane.”
Zane snorted and didn’t try to hide his smile as he walked toward the wall to peer at the pictures. He supposed he ought to feel more awkward being here with Ty, who he wanted to throttle, and his former almost-fiancée, who had tried to kill him. Especially since he was now positive he had actually met them both years ago and been asked to join them after a show.
Zane grew warmer with the knowledge. The man he’d seen in New Orleans had been the little spark of interest he’d needed for his first encounter with a man. It had been Ty all along. Zane sniffed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t even sure what to do with that realization, especially since every time he thought of Ty, the anger and betrayal threatened to overwhelm him.
Ty and Ava were talking about the ingredients of the gris-gris as Zane studied the pictures. The one Ty had been staring at earlier was large, with a simple wooden frame, and beneath it the date and event were written on a piece of tape. Easter, 2004. Seven years ago. The picture was of a man sitting in a chair, tipping it back, feet on the table as he grinned. A crowd of people in festive masks danced in the small confines of the bar in the background of the photo, their motions blurred and surreal. The man sitting was the only thing in focus. He wore a bowler hat and a vest. He held a thin cigar near his face, the frozen smoke curling up over his hand.
It was the man Zane remembered, there in black and white. And after a long moment of staring, Zane knew that he was looking at a picture of a younger, wirier Ty. His hair was different, longer. He had a Van Dyke beard. His face seemed gaunt in a way. He truly was a chameleon. But it was still Ty.
“I don’t know, Ty, there have to be half a dozen people who’d want to make you miserable,” Ava sneered as Zane turned back to them.
Ty flopped a hand. “Can you reverse it?”
“No. Only one who can reverse it is the one who put it on you. Or you.”
“Well, how do I reverse it, then?”
“I don’t know.”
Ty sat back and ran both hands over his face.
“I’ll see if I can’t find out, though, okay? This curse on you will spread to those around you. Anyone who comes in contact with you now is in danger, including me.”
“What, like it’s contagious?” Zane couldn’t keep the amusement or the cynicism out of his voice. But Ty and Ava both looked grim.
“This is like a black spot on his soul,” Ava whispered. “It will spread to everyone he cares for, everyone his soul has touched.”
Ty slumped and banged his forehead on the table.
The three rooms above La Fée Verte had once been rented out to travelers, back in the early days of the city, and though most of the old buildings in the neighborhood had been converted into condos and apartments, the layout of La Fée Verte’s rooms was very much unchanged from one hundred years ago. They all had small kitchenettes and just enough space for a double bed, a wardrobe, and a chair. They shared a washroom at the end of the hall, and adjoined a smaller room that served as an office for the bar below.