May thrust her arms, elbow deep, into the foliage and dragged out the hissing Hell Cat. She tucked it under her arm and headed back into the workshop.

The bridge erupted in flames, lighting the night sky. Fire arced across the river, an ember searing a line across Buford’s cheek. Flares shot from the explosion, sprouting wings and soared skyward, lighting the clouds an angry red.

Ava stuffed the last of her almond croissant into her mouth and washed it down with a swig of lukewarm latte. The problem with time travel was, you simply couldn't step into a Starbucks in 2023 for a coffee and expect to get back to medieval Europe without it going cold.

Shadows encompassed the cool crypt. Bisset approached lichen-coated sarcophagi, grit scraping under her hard-soled shoes. Corpse dust glowed in the sunlight from the open door.

"Is that a challenge?" PJ smirked as he peered through the windshield of an Oldsmobile Cutlass while Buford inspected the interior.

"No!"

The youngest goblin prince climbed the stonework of St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans’s French Quarter, on a sultry summer evening. From his perch high above the street artists, he waited and watched.

A sister and brother stared intently at the poster on the library checkout desk while their mother perused the shelves, accumulating books. Patrons bustled about, attempting to keep quiet while the siblings studied the poster, eyes darting up to Jenna. People said she was just a librarian, but Jenna had a sense for people.

A white pall covered the casket topped by a cascade of lavender bouquets. The vestments and minister's stole were all white with purple embroidery. Emilia scoffed from behind her black veil. She sat on the back row behind two ladies, in broad-brimmed hats. One leaned toward the other, mercifully blocking her view.

On magnificent ebony wings, I descended to land amongst a glistening, writhing swarm of banana slugs. My human servant plucked them one at a time to and shoved them into a satchel from which they eagerly squirmed back out. She looked to me beseechingly.

"About time you showed up, Old Crow."

The firelight dimmed in my study. Tendrils of shadows swirled, smelling crisp as starlight. The century old boards creaked around my wing-backed chair. "Show yourself?"

Cypress trees fringed with Spanish moss towered over the narrow road weaving into the bayou. Their shadows crept over Xavier's . . . car. . . he'd been told she wouldn't come if she didn't see you, and her eyesight was failing.

Iron balconies blocked centuries-old New Orleans storefronts from the cruel noonday sun. Slim fingers tipped with chipped claws reached from cracks between the bricks. Sweaty tourists ducked through tall French doors left open to the humidity, the seeking fingers invisible to them.

Buford stood over the flattened hellcat that’d taken up residence in the mechanic’s shop. Its shaggy gray fur didn’t rise or fall with breath. The tippity-tap of brass hooves announced PJ, the resident satyr’s arrival . . . “I’m not really surprised that you murdered him.”

The neon lights from the jazz clubs painted the brick walls red, green, and gold. The Mardi Gras revelers staggered behind the last parade, none seeing the daemon silhouetted in the window. Midnight chimed, and he held his breath until the twelfth bell before counting another day passed.

Arrayed over the rocky peak, the night sky put on an audacious show for us. The crescent moon peered over the treetops. Stars pulsed in time with my heartbeat. And if I stood still enough, I could trace the path of the planets before vertigo threatened to overtake me. Not that I’d admit it to Calliope . . .

The city had a fae feeling to it this morning, unreal and ethereal, a place where wishes were possible.

I created blown glass flowers for her to enchant and exchange at court for favors. The glass blossoms chimed as Narcissa gathered the glittering bouquet, leaving one delicate violet behind. I reached for it.

Her younger but substantially taller brother had convinced her to go to the pub to celebrate . . . Although he'd done all the celebrating while she'd done all the paying. Turning the corner, Coralline stumbled to a stop. . . A blue, radiant vortex swirled on the wall opposite her flat. . . As if it'd been waiting just for them.

He stomped through the rivulet of water rising in the gutter, and I followed. At the end of the street, he boarded a pirate ship and held out his hand to help me aboard. We set the sails, making for the open sea.