And with that thought, Nick felt that familiar weird fissure of preternatural power emanating in the air between them.
It was definitely Acheron’s essence.
But as soon as he felt it, it was gone and he was back in this “normal” realm.
“Nick?” Ash put his hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You all right?”
No. His head swam viciously, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse. Everything around him was wobbling, like he was watching the world through water. Pain radiated through his entire being and settled hard in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at his hand that no longer appeared human at all. His skin bubbled then turned translucent.
Terrified of someone else seeing it, he clenched his fist tight and hid it under his shirttail. Great. All I need is to turn into a human jellyfish right in front of everyone.
That would not be a fun explanation to have to make. He’d rather back over his mom’s favorite houseplant.
And still that wobbling persisted. Something was seriously wrong with him, and he needed to find real help. Someone who could tell him what was going on and which reality was his.…
This world? Or the one he thought he knew?
What if everything in my life until now has been a dream? Or worse. What if it wasn’t?
Licking his lips, Nick met Ash’s befuddled stare. “I, um … feel sick. I … I need to head out. See that doctor you told me about.” He handed his backpack to Caleb then started for the door.
“You can’t leave campus!” Caleb hissed.
Nick snorted at Caleb’s panic. “Stop me.” He opened the door and went straight for the street. Yeah, he might get into trouble later, but right now he didn’t care. Forget this normal crap. He had to have answers.
From someone.
Sprinting over to Royal, he went to Bubba’s store, the Triple B. But instead of the computer and gun store Bubba owned, it was now a beauty salon.…
Everything in it was pink and white. Girly. Bubba would die to see this. His precious sanctum had been defiled by rollers and hand lotions. Hairpieces.
Celebrity gossip rags, instead of zombie survival classes.
There was no sign of the store where Nick had spent the last few years learning about computers, lunatic conspiracy theories, and pending government-sanctioned zombie attacks. How to protect himself from the undead, undesirables, and unknown. Strange, but he really missed that Bubba and Mark. Heck, he even missed the stench of Mark’s duck-urine zombie-deterrent deodorant.
Grief-stricken and disoriented, Nick headed down the street to where Liza’s doll store had been in business since long before his birth. Just like Bubba’s, it was gone. Instead of glass shelves filled with handmade porcelain and vinyl dolls—some that doubled as stabbing weapons—it was another ubiquitous antique store.
This isn’t right. He wanted to cry at the absence of the people he knew and cared about. Crazy and eccentric though they were, they were his family. He couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing them again.
What had happened to Ms. Liza?
His senses reeling, Nick made his way to Canal to grab a streetcar so that he could head over to Kyrian’s house in the Garden District. Bubba had said Nick had a job.
Maybe, just maybe, he still worked for Kyrian. Maybe this part of his life hadn’t changed. Please give me something to hold on to. Desperately, he clung to that hope. Something had to make sense. Something had to be the same.
Right?
Stepping off the streetcar, Nick wasn’t sure what to expect, especially after all he’d seen so far. But if Kyrian was still here in this reality, he’d have to be a Dark-Hunter … wouldn’t he?
Just don’t be an attorney. Or something equally banal. Not like what had been done to Acheron. Nick wasn’t sure he could handle that kind of shock again.
He slowed as he walked past a faded blue antebellum mansion. The windows were open and someone was playing a piano. Even though he was Catholic, he knew the popular Southern Baptist hymn that was often a favorite among the street musicians who sang in the Quarter. It was one Tyree’s grandma would often hum whenever she shelled beans on her front porch when he was a kid.
And when the unknown older woman’s voice began the strains of “Will the Circle Be Unbroken,” a chill went straight down his spine.
There’s a better home a’waiting …
In the sky, Lord, in the sky.
Back in Nick’s world, the demonspawn version of Caleb had told him to listen to the signs that the universe sent him. They were warnings and guides.
Could this be one of them?
Did it mean that this was his new home and that he’d be stuck here forever?
Too scared to contemplate what it could mean for him, he crossed the street and made his way to Kyrian’s. It wasn’t until he reached the driveway that he remembered he hadn’t had to take the streetcar, after all. He could have just driven his Jeep over. But then he’d done without a license all this time … it was hard to remember he didn’t have to walk anymore.
And maybe that was a sign, too. His life, and his body, were changing faster than he could keep track of.
Nick paused halfway up the driveway as he realized another fact. There was no locked gate to prevent someone from entering the property. That didn’t bode well. Kyrian wouldn’t be so lackadaisical. Not with his safety, and definitely not with all the things that hunted him.
Crap.
Cold and fearful of what he’d find, Nick climbed the white stairs and approached the familiar door. Please let Rosa answer … please.
Tears misted in his eyes as every instinct told him to run. To not discover what was on the other side of that portal.
But he had to know. One way or another. And Gautiers weren’t cowards in any sense of that word. Whatever fate threw at them, they faced it with a straight spine, and full on.
Prepared for the worst, Nick forced himself to knock.
An older woman in some kind of purple designer jumpsuit, holding a small gold Pomeranian, answered it. “Yes?”
“Um…” Nick swallowed hard, hoping this was Ms. Rosa’s alternate form in this world.
Acheron and Caleb were now geeks. Madaug was cool.
It could happen to Rosa, too.
“Is Mr. Hunter home?”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. There’s no one here by that name.”
Her words hit him like a fist as he felt his hope deflate. He hadn’t realized until then that he’d been holding his breath, praying to see some semblance of his old life in front of him.
Dang it all.
“Sorry I disturbed you, ma’am. I must have been given the wrong address.” Feeling even sicker than before, Nick turned around. He’d just reached the steps when the woman’s voice stopped him.
“Now that you mention it … I do believe we purchased this home from someone named Hunter.”
Hopeful, he looked back at her. “Kyrian?”
“Yes! That was it. I remember ’cause it was so unusual.”
Kyrian had lived here. That was a good sign. “Do you know where he went?”
Grief darkened her eyes as she stroked the dog’s head. “Up to Jesus, baby. Sorry. We purchased the house as part of an estate sale after that poor man was murdered down in the Quarter … but that was … goodness … twenty-five, thirty years ago. Long before you were born. How do you know him?”
Nick blinked back the tears that suddenly stung his throat. “He was family to me.”
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Do I need to call your mama for you? Or someone else? Are you all right?”
Nick nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine. My mama don’t need to know I was here. Sorry I disturbed you.” Completely dazed, he headed back to the street as her words sank into his heart with talons.
Kyrian dead.
Did that mean that Kyrian had been a Dark-Hunter? That he’d been killed in action while trying to protect humans? Or had he been normal and living in this time period, too?
Gah, trying to unravel this made his head feel like it was going to explode.
I am too young for this. He should be at home playing ungodly amounts of Nintendo. Hanging out with his friends, talking about girls and manga. Or doing whatever it was that normal kids did.
“Ow! Hey! Hello? I’m standing here.”
He jumped at the outraged cry as he realized he’d been so lost in thought that he’d accidentally bumped into someone on the street corner. “Sorry.” He looked up into a familiar pair of blue eyes and a face he knew real well, even though the hair was brown and a frizzy mess of curls instead of the dyed black he was used to on her. “Tabitha?”
With an exasperated sound, she rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you’re not one of Tabby’s zoo crew. Though to be honest, they don’t usually get us confused.” She held her hand out to him. “I’m her sister Selena. You are?”
“Nick.” He shook her hand as hope sprung up new again inside him. Please, God. Give me this one bit … “Tabby still stalking the undead?”
“Oh God … you really do know her.”
Laughing in relief at something familiar, he noted Selena’s unorthodox appearance. She had on an embroidered purple skirt and white tank top with a fringed brown leather jacket. Not to mention the purple and pink Tarot Card Reader price list poster tucked under her arm. “You’re psychic?”
She arched a brow at him. “Obviously, you’re not. Observant either, for that matter. Strike two for you.”
For once, he ignored her sarcasm. He was too grateful to have someone “normal” and familiar around him. And right now, getting some real answers was much more important than firing back an equally nasty retort. “Do you believe in past lives and alternate universes and stuff?”
“Of course I do. It pays my rent.”
She was making it harder and harder to hold his smart aleck in. “No, I’m serious.”
Selena pinned him with a stern frown. “So am I. I’m not one of the fakes on the street. I honestly believe in what I do. I know for a fact that it’s all real.”
“Then could you help me?”
“Help you what?”
“Find my way home.”
CHAPTER 2
Pursing her lips in sympathy, Selena patted Nick on his shoulder. “Sure, kid. Where do you live?”
Nick shook his head. “Not like that. You said you believe in alternate realities, right?”
“Yeah.”
He braced himself to sound like the absolute flaming moron lunatic he was. Just don’t call the cops on me. He had no desire to repeat that nightmare. “I’m not from here, okay? I went to sleep in my world or dimension or whatever it’s called, and I woke up here in this one. And no offense, this one is…” He bit back the word weird, because it wasn’t weird. It was normal. But for him, normal was the strangest kind of weird imaginable. “I don’t belong here and I want to go home. Please help me return to my world.”
She took a step back. Not that he blamed her. If someone had said that to him, he’d have been running for safety in the opposite direction after the third word out of their mouth. Said a lot for her that she was only staring at him.
Nick started to close the gap between them, then stopped himself. If he did that, she might bolt. “Look. I know I sound crazy, okay? But in my world, your sister Tabitha has a boyfriend named Eric St. James. She graduated from St. Mary’s, and your aunt Ana owns a Voodoo shop named Erzulie’s on the corner of Royal and St. Ann. Your sister, Tiyana, who’s named after her, works there, too.” He clapped his hands as he remembered another detail he hoped was still right. “And Tabitha has a twin named Amanda, and um … what’s her name … your other sister’s a midwife who did an internship with a woman named Menyara Chartier—my godmother. And your aunt Kalila, who isn’t really your aunt, but your mom’s best friend from childhood, does the Haunted History vampire and Voodoo tours in the Quarter. I’ve handed out flyers for her and Sid. And you have another blood-related aunt who owns Pandora’s Box on Bourbon Street. Tabitha works there sometimes, and in your aunt Zenobia’s jewelry store on Royal.”
Selena burst out laughing then sobered. “Wait a minute … you’re really not lying. You believe everything you just said to me.”
“It’s the truth … at least it is where I come from.”
She reached out and cupped his cheek before she pulled him against her and held him close. Nick wasn’t sure why she was sexually harassing him, but he didn’t fight her hug. Instead, he held his breath, praying she believed him.
After several really long, uncomfortable minutes, she let him go. Stroking his cheek in a motherly fashion, she nodded. “All right. We need to find out about your home and see about returning you to it.”
Really? That was it? He’d expected a little more fanfare or argument. “You believe me?”