The Keepers: Declan Page 3

  It smelt of Jenna’s perfume, sparking a short-lived twinge of guilt.

  The sun had set and the streets were busier, everyone preparing for the craziness of New Orleans’s entertainment. And it would only get crazier from here.

  It wasn’t until she’d walked past the iron gates of Jackson Square that she felt the familiar shiver down her spine. She glanced around casually, once again riddled with the sense that someone was following her, and headed for a group of tourists gathered around a lone saxophone player. His music filled the air, pleasant and enticing, but did little to lessen the punch of fear that trickled through her.

  She slipped into the crowd, using it as a shield, and scanned her surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and once again, she wondered if her imagination was at an all-time crazy. Years of taking her cue from her mother had resulted in the constant flickering of her senses.

  She’d hoped to have had all the daggers before tonight’s party. How they were meant to protect her, she wasn’t sure, but it would have made her feel a lot better about what she was about to do.

  First thing in the morning, she’d leave town and head for Rapid Falls. It might be suicide but she needed the daggers. She still had Declan’s key to gain entry into the house. Only this time, she’d be smarter.

  Facing her demons and shedding the secrecy from her life all started with those damn daggers.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kate was on the move again.

  Declan watched as she emerged from the magical shop where she’d spent the day and did a double take at her revamped appearance.

  What the hell?

  With her mountain of dark curls hidden beneath a sleek blonde wig, wide eyes, and flawless skin, she looked a far cry from the cat burglar in his living room. She’d changed into pants and a jacket, the outfit hugging her figure like a second skin, accentuating hips and curves in all the right places. The V-neckline of the jacket plunged between full, ripe breasts that had been a perfect fit in his palms. His abdomen clenched at the memory.

  Dammit.

  She headed past Jackson Square toward Bourbon Street, New Orleans’s most popular tourist attraction, that stretched for miles. Every night, the road was closed to traffic, giving the tourists and locals the freedom to wander the street and take in Bourbon’s whirl of extravagance. Chatter and laughter, along with the music from the clubs and bars, filled the air with a constant hum of noise.

  Declan followed, easily hidden amongst the crowd. Pulling on her mask, Kate stopped outside a busy club, the entrance jammed with people, and disappeared inside.

  A club? What was the little vixen up to now?

  And what was with the wig?

  He scanned the rowdy crowd, clogged with drunks, dancers, street musicians and tourists. Those wanting a more private party had taken to the balconies that overlooked the street. It was a colourful, theatrical mix of people. Wild, untamed. He loved it.

  New Orleans had been the perfect escape when he’d left Rapid Falls two years ago, drowning his guilt after losing his sister, Sarah, to the Brogan brothers. Sienna had cast a spell to desiccate Mason forever. Believing Warrick to be redeemable, they’d only bound his powers.

  But they’d been wrong.

  In retaliation, he’d killed Sarah and bolted.

  Lost to her demons, Sienna had fled town next, freeing Declan from his Keeper duties. Leaving his brothers had been easy. Living with the guilt had been destructive.

  Up until the night of Sarah’s death, he’d heard guilt was a bitch but had never known it. And since then, the bitch hadn’t left him alone.

  But tonight, he wasn’t here to indulge in what New Orleans had to offer – or the memories it muffled. Several shots of whiskey had barely softened the frustration that chewed at his gut. He’d been played. Lied to. Stolen from.

  And had his ass kicked by a woman.

  When they'd met three months ago, Kate was everything he needed. Beautiful smile, an infectious laugh, and womanly curves that offered the perfect diversion from his destructive road. Alcohol, women, self-loathing, grief. God, he’d almost drowned himself in them all.

  But Kate had been a wake-up call. He’d fallen straight into her trap. The whiskey, the easy flow of conversation, endless laughter and the hottest sex he’d ever had.

  Even numb from the whiskey, he remembered her. Clearly. Up until the point she’d climbed out of his bed to pour them a drink. From then on, everything was a blank.

  He’d woken up the following morning with a headache that smacked of more than a hangover; naked and minus his key. And damn, he’d liked that key. Spelled to open any door, it was a nifty gadget.

  A call from Archer had saved Kate’s hide and kept him from tracking her.

  Archer had finally found Sienna – as had Warrick Brogan, seeking vengeance and Mason’s freedom. That alone had been enough for Declan to cut short his two-year sorrow party to return home and defend his witch.

  A calling. His duty. His destiny.

  And they’d kicked ass. Sienna had kicked ass and made him so proud. Mason was still entombed and Warrick had met his creepy-assed makers.

  A victory marred by another death. Sweet, beautiful, kind Rose – Sienna’s grandmother – who sacrificed herself to save her granddaughter. Without that selfless act, they’d have lost Sienna that night. They’d all taken Rose’s death hard.

  Declan inhaled and rerouted his thoughts to Kate – the perfect distraction from the memories. Once he confronted her, he was going to wring her pretty neck himself.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. Keeping a watchful eye on the entrance to the club, Declan headed for the alleyway that offered a quieter place to talk.

  “Hello, brother,” he said, answering the call.

  “Did you find the girl?”

  Trust Archer to get straight to business. “Yes.”

  “You okay?”

  “Tickled pink.”

  “Where are you?”

  “New Orleans.”

  “Declan, now’s not the time to be drinking whiskey and chasing women.”

  Declan rolled his eyes at his brother’s irritated tone. “Whiskey’s a given, brother, and the only woman I’m chasing is the one who stole our daggers.”

  “So why New Orleans?”

  “She came here. I just followed.”

  Following Kate had been easy. She’d moved quickly and silently but her inexperience showed. Thief. At first, Declan had charged full steam ahead but the more he followed, anger turned into intrigue. He’d slipped into stealth mode.

  She was scared.

  The thought shouldn’t alter what he thought of her and he refused to acknowledge that it might. Hell no. She’d stolen from them, dropped a scroll that hinted at a whole lot of crap Declan didn’t feel like dealing with, and run.

  But he needed to know why she’d wanted the daggers so badly. He also wanted to know why she’d hidden her Keeper abilities when they’d first met. Odd that he hadn’t sensed them in her. As for the questions sparked by the scroll, those needed more than a simple explanation.

  “Do you know who she is?” Archer asked.

  Oh, yeah. “I’m working on it.”

  Until he knew exactly what she was after, why she’d pursued him for his key and stolen the daggers, his involvement with Kate was for his knowledge only.

  “So where is she?”

  “About to attend a masked party.”

  “A burglary and a party all in one week? She gets around. Does she know you’ve followed her?”

  “She’s crafty, seems to sense that someone is. And I’m not the only one.” Declan thought of the jittery woman and the familiar faces he’d spotted since he’d set chase. They’d been discreet, searching her out, following her from a distance. They hadn’t harmed her yet but had sparked Declan’s curiosity. If someone else was after her, he wanted to know why.

  “Any idea who they are or what they want with her?”

  “No, but I doubt they h
ave dinner and a movie in mind.”

  “Well find her, Declan.”

  Declan ignored his brother’s agitation. “Trust me, brother, she’s in my sights.” He glanced at the club, the entrance occupied with streams of people coming and going. Some wore masks, others outrageous costumes. Kate would blend in perfectly.

  “We need those daggers so get your ass out of the bourbon.”

  “My ass is where it needs to be. How’s Sienna?”

  “Better. Missing Rose but the scroll has taken her mind off it.”

  “The legend of that scroll is a bedtime story, Archer. That’s all it is.”

  It had to be. A small triangle set within a larger triangle, each point marked with a symbol. Set within the smallest triangle was a blackness that hinted at an ancient legend. According to Sienna, the legend stipulated that a blackness would one day overtake their world. The symbols on the scroll were the keys to defeating it.

  The snag was that none of them knew how to decode it.

  “Maybe, but Sienna’s scouring Rose’s Grimoires anyway.”

  “If you find anything, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  A commotion at the entrance of the club caught Declan’s attention. A man arrived with an entourage. He wore a white suit, a hat, and a cocky grin. His grand entrance and loud welcome signalled popularity.

  The man turned around, his face visible, and everything inside Declan clenched in surprise, followed by a flash of fury.

  Shit.

  “Declan?” Archer prompted.

  Declan blinked, realising he’d said that aloud. “Yeah, I’m here,” he replied, returning the phone to his ear.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Harper Avery,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve followed the woman into a club and he’s just arrived.”

  “Harper? What’s he doing there?”

  Declan caught the immediate hatred that lined his brother’s voice. Harper supported the Brogan brothers – had been Warrick’s right hand man for years. He’d kidnapped Sienna, then Rose. He’d drugged them and vanished into thin air after Warrick’s death.

  “And he’s grinning like he’s won the lottery.”

  “Asshole. We should have killed him when we had the chance,” Archer said, his voice a low growl.

  “Yeah, brother. Hindsight crap won’t change the fact that this woman just stepped into the lion’s den.”

  “What business would she have with Harper?”

  “No idea, but I intend to find out. “

  “Call me when you do.”

  “I will.”

  “And Declan?” Archer added, his tone losing the sharp edge. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “If that’s your way of saying ‘be careful’, then I love you too, brother,” Declan quipped, unable to keep the sarcasm at bay. He blew Archer an exaggerated kiss, hung up the phone, and headed straight for the club.

  It took all of five minutes and a flash of cash to secure himself a hat from a teenage boy with a love of Zorro. Not his choice of accessory but better than a feathery mask.

  Tugging on his hat he went inside and took a seat by the bar, scoured the room for signs of Kate. A woman with a wide smile, wearing a leather outfit, slid into the available space between his legs.

  “You look lonely, handsome,” she said, hooking a finger into the hem of his T-shirt.

  “I’m not.”

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “It’s not a one drink night.”

  She grinned, red lipstick stretching across a pale face. “Oh, you sound like my kind of guy.”

  Declan twisted around and motioned to the barman for a round of drinks. When they arrived within seconds, the youngster was quick to earn himself a hefty tip.

  He rose, disentangling himself from the curvy blonde and holding out a glass. She grinned, accepting the offering. She was pretty, but far from his agenda tonight.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He dipped his head to hers. “Trust me, honey, it’s for your own good.”

  He swiped his drink off the counter and walked away, unable to shrug off the unease that conflicted with the anticipation of facing Kate. Harper was involved and Declan wanted answers – but for now, the pleasure of confronting her overruled that.

  The image of a deer in the headlights came to mind.

  He couldn’t wait.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kate loathed crowds. Especially rowdy ones plied with alcohol.

  The club was packed, everyone disguised with colourful masks. Music blared from the band of musicians on the stage, loud but not unpleasant. After all, New Orleans was well known for the talented musicians who flocked to the city.

  Kate made her way to the side door reserved for members only. A fierce, burly bouncer stood outside the door, his arms crossed. Although he was bald, his frowning face was covered with hair. His expression was even as she approached, except for the hitch in one eyebrow.

  Taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm the stampede of horses inside, Kate flashed a tag that gained her a nod and an open door.

  “You’re late, Jenna,” he grumbled, his words masked in a heavy accent that sent chills down her spine.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she replied, grateful for the mask she wore. She hurried through the door, slipping the tag back into her bag.

  Remembering Jenna, fast asleep in Hazel’s back room, sent Kate's anxiety soaring, but she was quick to reel it in. Jenna had access to the private function behind the bar and Kate needed an in.

  She made her way down the corridor that opened onto a courtyard nestled at the foot of a four-storey building. A private party was in full swing, the crowd dancing to music that blared from box speakers against the walls. Those not on the dance floor had taken to the balconies overlooking the courtyard. Barrels of fire burned everywhere, masking the scene in a glorious glow of orange inferno.

  Kate stepped back as a juggler strolled past and disappeared into the crowd, tossing fire balls with ease. Waitresses wearing simple masks and cocktail dresses moved between the guests, serving beverages and smiling at the passes of the more drunken men. There was a bar in the far corner, the barman rushing to keep up. Apparently, food didn’t feature at this party. Despite the cool air, most of the women wore skimpy dresses.

  And then she saw him.

  Harper Avery.

  His hair was different, shaved, his face a spray of stubble. Despite his silly hat, mask and smirk, there was a harshness to him she recognised. Drink in hand, he scanned the crowd, oblivious to her scrutiny.

  He puffed on a cigar and laughed at something his companion said, the sound swept away by the music. He seemed so casual for the violent man who had attacked them.

  Everything inside Kate urged her to charge at him and demand answers. And punch him. Oh, yes, she was itching to wipe that grin off his face. After her mother’s death, she’d spent the last year running from him.

  No more.

  She wanted revenge. Justice.

  A tingle ran down her spine at the thought.

  Looking over, she recognised his key players with ease. Three men and a woman.

  Rick was older and his boisterous Italian charm masked an underlying callousness. He was grizzled and stocky, his tattooed arms were draped around the woman, Megan. They were dancing to an erotic beat while his fingers toyed with her short black hair. He whispered something in her ear that made her smile, before a commotion at the door separated them.

  The arrival of Harper’s other two warriors, Max and John, instantly parted the dancing crowd. Max’s shaggy brown hair contrasted with the younger, neater John’s. According to Hazel, John was skilled in martial arts. Clutched in their grip was a woman with spiky blonde hair, dark make-up and a fierceness in her eyes that touched Kate.

  The music softened, the excited murmurs died down, and everyone stared at Harper. Their anticipation hung in the air like a thick spice as they waited for their leader to speak.
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br />   He remained seated as his men presented the woman. Tilting his head lazily, he scanned the length of her.

  “This is Lara?” Harper asked, his tone casual but laced with an iciness that sent a chill down Kate’s back.

  “She showed up in the Quarter,” Max replied, swiping at his messy hair with one hand. “She resisted, just like you said she might.”

  A slow smile spread across Harper’s face. “I’m assuming she’s come to her senses?”

  “I will never join you,” Lara said, her tone tight with disgust.

  Harper stood up so abruptly that his chair fell over, crashing to the ground in an elaborate display of temper. He closed the gap between himself and Lara.

  “You refuse?” A fake smile softened the glare in his eyes. “Sweetie. You have no choice.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  He waved a hand at the crowd. “Witches and warlocks. You’ll fit right in.”

  Witches and warlocks? All of them? Keeping to the shadows against the wall, Kate scoped out the room, her entire body prickling.

  “I don’t side with evil,” Lara replied, glowering at him.

  “Pity.” Harper trailed a finger along her chin. “You’re just the type of witch I’m looking for.”

  “I will never join your cause.”

  Harper’s grin faded and his eyes narrowed, all traces of playfulness disappearing. “You sure you won’t join me, dear? There’s a bigger picture here.”

  “Screw your bigger picture. I’m not interested in violence, control or exposure. What’s wrong with you all?” she snapped at the gawking crowd. “The last time our kind came out of the closet, we were hunted down and destroyed.”

  A frown creased Harper's eyebrows.

  Kate’s stomach twisted at the reminder of the witch massacre, a tragic bloodbath that had claimed dozens of harmless witches. The event had marred their existence ever since, reminding them how crucial it was to live in secrecy.

  “You know the agreement we have with the ordinary people who know about us,” Lara said, waving a hand across the room. “If they see you all gathered here, you’ll start a war!”