Shades of Gray: A Jude Magdalyn Novel Read Online Free Page B

back, Hart. One would think you would have learned such a lesson over two hundred years ago.”
    The woman, who’d been silent until now, spoke from behind Hart and to the left. “They have us surrounded. Leave the girl for later. You cannot complete your plan if you are a pile of ash.”
    At that particular moment the woman with the ball of fire closed her hand. Instantly, my left palm began to burn. Hart and I let out a yell as my hand seared through the fabric of his pants. In a panic, he hurled me away from him, sending me sprawling on the ground between the two groups. I turned over and scuttled backward, crablike. Elegant, no, but it kept Hart in my sight which was good enough for me.
    The fiery burning in my hand was gone as suddenly as it had come and when I raised my hand to check for blisters, I blinked. Nothing but smooth skin. I shook my head and looked away from Hart long enough to catch the older woman’s eye. “How did you, I—.”
    “Questions best kept for later, Jude Magdalyn Henries. One event at a time.”
    Apparently everybody knew my name, even though I was learning the players in bits and pieces. Nodding slowly, I turned my eyes back to Hart and pushed to my feet. I walked backward until I felt a hand grip my left. I didn’t have to look to know it was Williams. I couldn’t explain it but I was out of the crossfire and safe as I could be at the moment. Good for me.
    Hart seethed. His female companion all but dragged him back to St. Peter, through the row of men at their backs while their guard had died. The row of men, I assumed they belonged to Williams, let them pass, but didn’t take their eyes off them. Neither did I, yet it still seemed like the pair vanished between one breath and the next.
    The group breathed out a collective sigh and I heard a voice whisper a quick Hail Mary. Slowly, the sounds of the Quarter filtered back in and I remembered to take a breath of my own. Or what would have been a breath if Williams hadn’t chosen that moment to speak and my breath became a squeak.
    “I assume you have questions. Let’s see to your friend. Gillian and I will do our best to answer them.”
    I turned my head to stare at him. Up close, he was even more mouthwatering, but strangely enough, it wasn’t the foremost thought on my mind. “Oh, you can bet your ass I’ve got questions. And somebody sure as hell better have answers.”
     

Chapter Three
     
    The cup I poured the stiff black coffee into was white, a voodoo doll silhouetted on it with the words “Even if the marriage wasn’t magic, the divorce can be” emblazoned below it. A client had given it to me for Christmas and I got such a kick out of it I used it for an instant pick-me-up whenever I felt stressed or annoyed. It usually worked.
    Taking care of Izzy hadn’t been as easy as Williams made it out to be. It had been a downright pain in the ass. It was a good thing I loved her or I would have been seriously pissed. I’d seen the exact same things, had actually had said things touching me, or being shot at me, or exploding out of my hand, and I was perfectly fine. Which, I guess, was a sign something was really wrong with me. Either way, I wasn’t having hysterics.
    It took half a bottle of Cuervo and a few mumbled words from the fire-wielding woman, Gillian, before Izzy fell asleep or passed out. Honestly? I didn’t care which. I was assured when she woke in the morning she’d remember everything she’d seen as nothing more than the result of large quantities of alcohol. Lucky her.
    The Frenchmen District was still alive and kicking when we climbed the stairs to my third floor studio. Any other night, I would have stopped in at one of the clubs along the way, thrown back a few and listened to the jazz being played. Instead, I was cramming way too many people into a small space.
    Some people make the mistake of thinking a studio is like a loft apartment. Sometimes it is, but often it isn’t. Loft apartments always