Shades of Gray: A Jude Magdalyn Novel Read Online Free

coincidence.”
    “You think?” I shut my eyes, took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Sorry, I know you’re just as freaked out as me. I have no idea how they even know where I am or why they want to know.”
    “Look, we’ll just stop one of the ever present members of the NOPD, and….” Izzy trailed off and I threw my hands in the air, causing water to splash up from my open bottle and land on my face. Swiping it away with my free hand, I shook my head.
    “What can I tell them? ‘Gee, officer, I met these two earlier when I was preparing to swindle them by reading tarot cards, insulted their intelligence and moral character, and now they’re in the Quarter at the same time that I am.’”
    Izzy took a sip of her soda and tapped her left hip with her fingers. “Okay, I can see how explaining this to the police would be more than a little difficult, but—.”
    She let out a little shriek as I pulled her out of the middle of the street and against the wall outside Preservation Hall. I’m sure if it wasn’t for my hand clapped over her mouth she would have cursed me up one side and down the other. As it was, she tried to bite me and stomp my foot until I leaned close and hissed in her ear, “Opposite corner.”
    They couldn’t see us, mostly thanks to the swell of college kids on the sidewalk. Never have I been more thankful for drunken Tulane students than at that moment. God only knows why I was whispering, or trying to get Izzy to be quiet. There was no possible way we could be heard amidst the thunder of Bourbon Street, but there’s something about terrifying situations in general that makes lowered voices and silences seem more appropriate.
    Sir Creep-a-Lot and his female companion had acquired a couple of compatriots, and it was clear they were looking for someone. The way the night and my luck were going, it was a fairly safe bet it was me. It was bad enough when there were just two of them. The new members of the hunting party looked like retired football players, or bodyguards - big and bulky. You can look and tell it’s muscle, not fat, and if it hits you, it’s going to hurt. A lot.
    When Izzy stopped struggling, I let my hand drop. Without another word, I grabbed Izzy’s hand and headed toward the river. We were halfway down the block to Royal Street when I risked a glance over my shoulder. The convenient crowd a moment before split apart and I felt Hart’s eyes lock onto me.
    I broke into a run, Izzy right next to me, taking to the street when the crowds on the sidewalk proved too thick to push through. I knew where I was headed. Common sense would have me turn onto Royal and heading to the police station. Whatever was guiding me had me barreling down St. Peter for Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral.
    I’ve seen the Cathedral more times than I could begin to count. I worked in the open area between it and Jackson Square during the day, reading cards for tourists and locals alike. The ghost tours do a little spiel near the gates of the Square before heading down Pere Antoine Alley where it’s said a ghostly funeral procession sometimes passes during intense storms.
    The one night when we desperately needed a group of people, hell, a swarm of them, not a person was near the Cathedral.
    My shirt was stuck to my back and my breath heaved in my lungs when I stumbled to a stop in front of the Cathedral. My heart sank with recollection. I should have remembered, the gates were locked at night. Short of jumping the fence, there was no way to get on church grounds. I had no idea why it was so paramount for us to be on church grounds, but it was.
    Before I could figure out the next step in my lack-of-a-plan plan, the Creepies came around the corner of St. Peter. Suddenly, jumping the fence seemed like the best idea all night.
    Izzy was bent over, her head between her knees, trying to catch her breath. She isn’t active at her best moments, and running a block and a half full out had left