Rook leans across the scared Formica table, “You actually think I’m afraid of you?” She spears him with a steely glare, praying he can’t feel her shaking in her boots.

“You should be, I could break your fragile little neck,” he answers, matching her stare.

“Death doesn’t frighten me, and neither do you.” She pushes her unruly curls out of her eyes before sliding out of the booth.

Jeziah snatches her wrist, stopping her short. With warning in her glare, she looks down at his hand then into his eyes, “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, you’re the foolish girl that snitches for The Directive,” he scoffs, tightening his grip on her wrist. “A lowly human, in way over your head.”

Rook jerks her hand away from him, “Don’t try me, vamp, or you’ll find out just how lowly I am.” She turns toward the door, addressing the bartender, “See you next time, Seamus, Jeziah’s picking up my tab.”

“Sure thing, always a pleasure,” Seamus answers, absently polishing a glass.

She flits out the door to the safety of the sunlight. She slings her backpack over her shoulder and struts down the sidewalk, stopping at her favorite taco cart. “Julio! What’s free today?” She pumps her brow playfully.

“Nothing is ever free.” Julio pulls his lips to the side, “But for you, I have one vegetarian taco already made.”

“Aren’t you a sweetie!” She takes it and sniffs the package, knowing full well there’s no food inside. “Mm, my favorite. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here,” Julio tips his head toward her, laughing. “One day you’ll pay for a meal.”

She continues down the sidewalk and darts into the alley. “Yes, but not today,” she says, unwrapping the tinfoil from the wad of money. She slides a twenty-dollar bill out, stuffs it in her pocket and shoves the taco money into her bag.

Rook continues through the alley and comes out on the next street over in Bywater to pop into the corner store for a snack. “No beignets today, Percy?” She smiles sweetly, putting the twenty on the counter.

“You’d have to be here before noon for that.” Percy smiles. “Just the hot dog?”

“Yup, this will do,” she says, pushing the bill toward him.

“On the house...those have been sitting on the roller for hours anyway.” He pushes the bill back toward her.

Rook winks and shoves the twenty back into her jeans, “Just the way I like ‘em.”

The bell rings as she opens the door to carry on down the street.

A feeling of uneasiness comes over her, putting her on alert. She pats her pocket to make sure she has her knife.

“You know, you’d do well to be a little more discreet,” a creamy voice sounds from behind her.

“Hello, Samuel.” She takes a bite of her hot dog, and continues speaking with her mouth full, “Don’t talk to me about discretion, I heard you coming from a mile away.”

Rook never breaks her pace or her penchant for sarcasm, “Besides, while we’re talking about discretion, do you really think you should be seen speaking with me on the street like this? Out in the open? In the daylight no less?”

Samuel laughs, “A mile?”

“Figure of speech,” she shrugs, taking another bite. “The point is, you’ve never been able to sneak up on me. I’d say I expected more from a shifter, but you’re so damn big there’s no way for you to keep quiet.”

Samuel feigns offense, “I sneak up on lots of people.”

“Like Jeziah?” She flashes a look upward, trying not to make eye contact with anyone unless she has to. She knows Samuel is hot is hell, but one hundred percent off limits. He’s a supernatural, she doesn’t want that kind of complication in her life. Besides, he’s Directive and she doesn’t like cops.

“I want to know who tipped him off.” Samuel growls, balling his fists.

“Easy peasy.” Rook tosses the wrapper from her hot dog in a trashcan they’re passing by.

“If it’s so easy, why don’t you get me the info?” he says with an edge of irritation.

“I already have it.” She makes a quick left turn.

“Then who was it? It was Bryson, wasn’t it? I knew that son-of-a-bitch was dirty.” Samuel shakes his head.

“No, asshole, it was you,” she says, picking up her pace slightly.

Samuel grabs Rook by the shoulders and pushes her up against the brick building, “Don’t play with me, human.”

Rook fortifies herself, glancing at his hands on her shoulders then glowers up at him with grit in her tone, “Get your paws off me.”

“I’m tired of your games, Rook.” Samuel releases her, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Everyone else may think you’re cute, but I don’t. This is serious. We’ve got a group of vamps running blood slaves through my city and it has to stop.”

Rook pulls her lips to the side, “The blood slave trade or the fact that they’re coming through your city?” She makes quotie fingers.

Samuel stops and thinks for a moment, and catches the rare seriousness in her tone, “Both.”

“Good, then know when I say it was you that tipped him off, I’m telling the truth,” she says, leaning back against the wall. “I was there, I saw the boat pull up to the dock. Jeziah was about to open hull and then he turned around and looked right in your direction. He could smell you.” She rolls her eyes, “I could hear you coming and as you like to remind me on a regular basis, I’m just a human.”

“There’s no way.” He turns away from her, running his fingers through his long blond hair.

“Think about it, if he had been tipped off, the boat never would’ve made it to the dock. You were there, you saw it.”

Samuel gives her theory some thought, “So what do we do?”

“Stay far enough away and let them get everyone off the boat. Bust them after they get them loaded into the next transport. Or bust them before they get to the dock,” she says as though it’s simple.

“Do you know when the next shipment is coming in?” he asks.

“It’ll be a while.” She looks down at the ground, “Word is they’re running them through Biloxi now.”

“Fuck!” Samuel balls his fists at his side, pacing.

“If you want to get them so bad, go to Biloxi.” Rook starts walking away.

“I’m not done with you,” he calls after her.

“Then you’d better start walking, I’ve got someplace to be,” she says over her shoulder.

“I can’t bust them in Biloxi.” Frustration riddles his tone.

“If you want to stop it so bad, call your buddies in Biloxi,” she says simply.

Samuel lets out a low growl.

“Ah, I see,” she turns, looking up at him with a knowing smile. “This is about you busting Jeziah.”

“Yes, I want that fucker put away. I want to see the look on his face when I put his ass down.”

“Then stop being a pussy and just kill him.” She pops a piece of gum into her mouth and offers Samuel a piece. “Gum?”

He waves his hand no, “I can’t just kill him.”

“Why not?”

“That’s now how it works, I like my job.” He shrugs.

“Well, the problem is, Jeziah isn’t at the top of that food chain,” Rook says, deep in thought. “You can kill him and honestly, no one would notice. The vamps would have a replacement in minutes.”

“That’s true,” Samuel admits.

“So, call Biloxi, tell them blood slaves are coming in and at least get it shut down at that port.” She stops and looks him hard in the eye, “It’s the right thing to do.”

Samuel looks down in defeat, “You’re right.”

“I know I’m right.” She smiles, “Now go do your thing and I’m going to do mine.”

“I don’t suppose you have any info on who is at the top.”

“Not yet, but I’m getting closer,” she says thoughtfully. “I have some ideas, I’ll let you know when I have something concrete.”

“What about the Purists?” He lowers his voice.

“That I don’t know anything about. So far as I know it’s a myth,” she says quickly. “I gotta go.”

“You are going,” he points out.

“I’ve got to go where I don’t want you going with me.” She pins him with a look.

“When will I hear from you again?” he asks.

“Give me a couple of days,” she says, walking away from him.

“Hey, Rook.”

“Yeah?” She turns around, walking backward.

“Be careful.” His tone is full of worry.

“I can take care of myself,” she says, turning back around. “You take care of yourself, Jeziah ain’t no joke.”

“Neither am I,” he grunts.

“You’re a big puppy.” She waves with a laugh. “But if you ever put me up against a wall like that again, I’ll gut you.”

Rook pushes the red door open to Vivienne’s, “Hey, beautiful!”

“What are you doing here?” Vivienne comes from behind the counter, dodging the herbs hanging from the ceiling. “Smelling of werewolf.” She eyes her suspiciously.

“I have a five o’clock appointment.” Confusion clouds her expression, “Did you forget?”

“I don’t forget, you don’t have an appointment.” Vivienne pulls her lips to the side.

Rook pulls her calendar out of her bag, “Someone named Cara Lysle, past life regression.”

“Rook, you can’t keep meeting clients here,” Vivienne’s scolds with her Cajun accent.

“When did this happen? I thought we had an arrangement.” Rook drops her bag on a table in the corner, “I provide a service, you get a cut of the fee. Simple.”

“Yes, but you’re getting a little too tangled up in The Directive for my comfort, not to mention pissing off vampires is unwise.”

Rook inhales a deep breath, “Please, are you really afraid of the vamps or The Directive?”

“Yes. I’ve survived here as long as I have, by keeping a low profile. You’re drawing attention here, and not the good kind.”

“Okay, okay.” Rook tries not to panic. “What about staying here? Can I still sleep in the back?”

“You’ve got tonight and that’s it.” Vivienne sets a sage smudge on fire. Her expression darkens as she waves the burning herbs around the shop. “There’s a darkness that’s beginning to surround you. I think you’re getting far too deep in this, bad things are coming. You should leave New Orleans.”

Rook is taken aback by the fear in Vivienne’s tone, “Did you have a vision...about me?”

“It’s just a feeling and not a good one. I care about you and I want you to be safe, but I can’t save you.”

“Can’t you just cast some of your voodoo and keep me safe?” Rook pleads, pushing back fear tickling the edge of her nerves. She’s not sure whether Vivienne’s being dramatic or if it’s real.

“No. dear, I can’t. There are some things in this world that can only be avoided by action, not magic.” Vivienne looks down to hide the shame in her eyes, “I’ve seen many young human girls just like you think they would be safe from this world, but you aren’t. You’re playing with the kind of fire I can’t put out.”

“So, what do I do? Just leave? Run away?” Anger pushes her voice to an upper register, the very thought of running away and leaving the vamps to continue their blood slave trade makes her sick to her stomach.

“Go back home, go to where you came from. You don’t belong here.” Vivienne throws the curtain aside and heads for the back room.

Rook sits hard in the chair, mulling Vivienne’s words in her mind. Anger continues to flare at the suggestion that she’s just a just a human girl. There’s more to her than that. She can feel it and knows it from her dreams. She gets up from the table and goes to the back room, “Vivienne, you and I both know I’m not just a human girl. I’m different and I do belong here.”

“You have a talent for past life regressions, but that’s about it, dear. That’s not going to keep you alive and neither can I.”

“I’m not asking for your protection, I’m just asking for a place to work and sleep,” she pleads, but her hope diminishes watching as Vivienne shakes her head.

“You’re young and intrepid.” Vivienne smiles kindly and cups Rook’s cheek in her hand, “Trust me, I’m doing you a favor by sending you home, Iris.”

Rook sucks in a sharp breath, stepping away from her touch, “What did you call me?”

“Iris, your real name.” Vivienne presses her lips into a tight line, “You’ve forgotten who you are, that’s proof enough that it’s time to go.” Vivienne takes Rook’s hand into hers, placing her other hand over it. “You’re in danger here.”

“So many are, and no one wants to do anything, except maybe Samuel. How can you just sit by and watch as all of this happens, while people are being kidnapped and sold like cattle? This isn’t okay.” Rook’s temper is getting the best of her, she’s trying to control it, but it’s not easy. Before she says something she’ll regret, she opts to take a walk.

She spins on her heel and heads to the front to get her backpack, ignoring Vivienne’s calling after her. She storms out the door, slamming it for effect before stalking across the cemetery, muttering to herself.

Vivienne watches her stalk across the cemetery, shaking her head, “Go home, child, before it’s too late for you.”

Rook’s thoughts wander back home, where she was miserable. She never fit in there, she’s just not made for that life. But is she made for this one?