Rook walks down the steps of the tiny bed and breakfast to make her pick up from Julio and say goodbye to Seamus. He looked out for her while she was here, she appreciated that. She turns the corner onto Piety Street and stops in her tracks when she doesn’t see Julio manning the taco cart. Her intuition tells her run, but her curiosity and need for the money won’t let her. Her awareness is on high alert looking around at the absence of people on the street. It was early, but nearly noon and usually by this time of day shop owners had already dragged their stand-up signs out onto the sidewalk.

She continues by the taco cart without making eye contact with the vendor. She makes a quick turn into the bar, she’s sure there’s something wrong. The early regulars are not in their bar stools and there’s a single man dressed in a suit sitting in one of the booths.

Seamus sees her, and disappointment mixed with something else clouds his expression. He continues drying glasses and placing them in the racks under the bar.

Rook slides onto one of the stools and pins Seamus with a questioning look. “Good morning.”

Seamus leans forward with disapproval, “I thought you were smarter than this.”

She says in nearly a whisper, “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to my favorite bartender.”

His lip curls upward, “You should’ve sent a card.”

“What’s going on?” she hisses, resisting the urge to look at the man in the booth, “Who’s the stiff?”

“You are,” a deep oily voice sounds in her ear.

Seamus steps away from his post, leaving her alone with the man.

Rook makes a half turn with her lips pursed, “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Not yet, but you will.” A cruel smile sets his features, “Won’t you join me? We’ve got business to discuss.”

Rook hides her fear, she doesn’t want him to have one tiny inkling that she’s shaken in the least. “Business? Now you’re talking my language. What do you have in mind?”

“Perhaps this conversation will be better in private.” His expression never changes.

She turns and looks toward the booth, “Over there.” She picks up her backpack and starts for the booth.

“I was thinking you could come with and we could discuss what I have in mind.”

“No, we can talk here.” She continues toward the booth.

“I’m sorry, did you think that was a suggestion?” He raises his brow.

“I really don’t care if it was a suggestion, I’m not going anywhere with you.” She shrugs, “If you want to talk business, we do it here. If not, I’ve got somewhere to be.”

He remains silent and unmoving as an answer.

“Okay, I guess whatever business you wanted to discuss wasn’t that important.” She slings her pack over her shoulder and starts for the door. “I’ll catch you next time, Seamus.”

Seamus watches nervously as she disappears through the door.

Rook steps out on the street, hoping the sunlight will serve as some protection, although she’s certain that vamp was a day-walker. Her brain goes in overdrive. I should’ve gotten his name, I should have a cell phone to call Samuel, or anyone for that matter.

Rook tries to devise a plan for getting out of New Orleans alive. Jeziah dying by her hand is going to have consequences from the vamps. They don’t care that he died trying to kill her, some of them are just that twisted. “Fucking vamps,” she says under her breath, seeing three of them standing on each street corner.

The streets are still empty except for them. She turns down an alley and feels a tiny bit of relief when she sees there’s no one there. She goes from a fast walk to a jog, hoping for some safety on the next street. She can duck into Percy’s, he may not be willing to help her, but he’ll let her use the phone.

The street isn’t bustling, but it isn’t eerily still. She jaywalks across to the convenience store and rushes through the door.

“Rook,” Percy says, “You’re a little early, I’m afraid all the hot dogs are fresh.” He laughs.

“I need to use your phone,” she says in a panic, leaning across the counter.

“Well, sure, just come on in the back.” He hobbles out from behind the counter, picking up his cane along the way. “I know I should get one of those fancy portable phones, but honestly anyone I want to talk to comes to see me.” He chuckles.

He leads her through the back door to a small office with a metal desk covered in papers, flats of bottled water stacked in the corner and old calendars lining the walls with various notes scrawled everywhere.

She turns to him, “Thank you.”

“There’s the phone, let me know if you need anything.” He steps back out of the office and closes the door.

She picks up the dingy beige handset and presses it to her ear, there’s no dial tone. She presses the button on the phone a few times, “Come on.”

She stills at the realization she’s been duped, she turns around to try the door.

Locked.

“Shit.” She looks around for a way to escape, her only option a tiny window with bars on the other side. “Shit again.”

Think, how are you getting out of this? She throws her head back, not ready to give up but looking to God for some sort of answer. She’s rewarded when she sees a string hanging from the ceiling attached to an attic door. “Yes.”

She rolls the old desk chair closer to the string, climbs up and pulls the door down. She tosses her backpack up and hikes herself up into the attic.

She lays on her belly, dangling her backpack down to push the chair back to the desk, then reaches under the door to pull the string upward to close the hatch. She pulls the knife from her boot and cuts the string at the base. She slides the string into her pocket and looks for the next challenge.

A few streams of light come through the cracks in a vent that appears the only way out. It’ll be tight, but she can get through there. She hears a commotion downstairs and stops to listen.

The door to the office creaks open, “Where is she?”

There’s banging and the sounds of things being tossed around in the office.

Rook presses her hands over her mouth to quiet her breathing.

“She was in here,” Percy insists.

“She couldn’t just disappear,” the other voice says, full of anger.

“Anything’s possible,” Percy says. “If she killed a vamp, there’s no tellin’ what else she can do. Maybe she’s a witch,” he offers as a possibility.

“She’s not a witch,” the other voice says. “We’d better find her or there’s going to be hell to pay. If I find out you helped her, you’ll be my next meal.”

Footsteps across the old wooden floor of the store give Rook a tiny glimmer of hope that the vamp is leaving.

It doesn’t mean she’s out of this, but she’ll at least be able to breathe. When she hears the bell on the door ring, she releases the breath she’d been holding. She looks out onto the street through the slats in the vent. No vamps, just regular street traffic.

She decides to give it some more time before making her way out of the attic.

I need to start carrying a flashlight, she thinks to herself, wishing she could see more of what’s in the attic. She could be missing another way out.

She doesn’t want to move around too much; this creaky old building will give her away in a heartbeat and it’s clear she can’t trust Percy.

At this point, she doesn’t know who she can trust.

She sits leaning against one of the joists and considers her options. Day-walkers looking for her, can’t trust anyone, no phone, no light, no hope.

Rook looks around again to find anything that can help her but there’s nothing.

“Quite the pickle,” a voice sounds from the dark corner across the attic.

She tenses completely and scoots backward against the joist.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the kind voice sounds off. “I hate the vamps. They think they own the whole damn town.”

“Who are you?” she asks suspiciously.

“I’m Alfrigg,” he says stepping into a stream of light, revealing deep scars and disfigurement across his face. He’s a stout little thing but looks as though he was quite formidable at one point in his life. His pointed ears wiggle and turn toward her.

Rook tries to control her reaction to his appearance, she holds out her hand, “I’m Rook.”

He takes her hand and calm comes over her. He chuckles, “No, you’re not, but there’s time to discuss that later. Right now, we need to figure out how we’re going to get you out of here and away from the vamps.”

“Why should I trust you?” She doesn’t have the luxury of politeness in this situation.

“Because I’m your only option.” He shrugs.

“Where did you come from?” she asks, considering how very convenient it is that he’s here, just hanging out in an attic.

He thinks for a moment, “You would know it as Norway now.”

“No, I’m not looking for your origin story, why are you here?” Her sarcasm never fails her.

“Percy, he said,” Alfrigg holds one finger up, “and I quote, ‘she’s a smart little cookie, she’ll find the only way out’.”

“Percy asked you to wait for me up here?” Her conscience twitches about all the horrible things she thought about him.

“He sure did, now let’s get out of here.” He stands as tall as he can under the low roof of the attic.

He pushes upward and a hatch in the roof opens.

Rook looks at it, “What the hell?”

Alfrigg looks down at her, “This is New Orleans, sweetheart. It’s just a good idea to have to have a way to the roof in case of flooding.”

She shrugs, unable to dispute the logic, “Makes sense.”

He hikes her up to the roof, “Up you go.”

They stay low, crawling across the roof on their bellies. Alfrigg turns to Rook, “The sun’s just about right.”

“For what?” Her suspicion hasn’t subsided, she’d like to think she’s ready for anything, but she knows better.

“Sun’s high enough that it’s tough for some day-walkers to be out in it.” His eyes twinkle. “We can get to my place.”

“Where’s that?” She studies him, ready for the lie. It’s obvious he was at one time a force to be reckoned with, but now he’s weathered and has seen many battles. He can’t quite stand up straight even off the roof. Her mind wanders to what he must have been through in his life.

“In the Bayou,” he says, releasing the ladder on the fire escape. “It’s not much, but there’s plenty to eat, and it’s quiet and safe.”

Rook looks around for any signs of the vampires. She knows they’re around, she can feel it in her bones. It’s the same feeling as when you’re being watched.

Alfrigg climbs down first and holds his hand out to her. She studies it, asking herself why he wants to hold hands.

Alfrigg rolls his eyes, “Just take it.”

She does for lack of any other options where she may actually survive. For a smaller man, he certainly has large hands, hers disappears in the palm of his as they walk straight toward the street. “They can still stay in the shadows, is it a good idea for us to walk down the middle of the street?”

“Don’t let go of my hand and they won’t see you,” he says. “Since they can’t smell you, there’s no worry.”

“We’re invisible?” she asks, looking around to see if anyone is looking at them.

“Yes, now hush,” he scolds her, ticking his head toward a vamp leaning in a shadowed doorway.

They walk by him, and Rook holds her breath the whole time. She’s amazed he doesn’t so much as look in their direction.

Alfrigg leads her through a cemetery, then the streets of the Ninth Ward.

Rook’s hand is sweaty against Alfrigg’s, “How much further?”

“It’s another few miles,” he says with irritation in his tone.

“And we’re going to walk the whole way?” She thinks about when she took a bayou tour when she first arrived, and it wasn’t far, but it wasn’t exactly walking distance.

“Yes, is there a problem with that?” he says as though her question was a personal affront.

“I’m just thinking it’s hot as hell out here and well…” She trails off.

“You think we can just get an Uber to the bayou?” He bristles.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” she says with hope of not continuing to walk this journey.

Alfrigg chuckles, “Even if I did have a way to get a ride, it’s not a good idea. The vamps have all types of folk on their payroll. We can’t take the chance.”

“What about Samuel? He’ll be able to help me and I trust him.” She wishes she had a way to contact him.

“You think The Directive is going to keep you safe?” He quirks his brow, screwing his face up with disbelief. “You are young and naive.”

“Samuel will protect me,” Rook insists.

“He is one of the good ones, but they’ll be watching him. It’s best if you just lay low with me for a bit,” he says, tightening his grip on her hand.

Apprehension flows through her thinking she may have trusted the wrong person again. She doesn’t know anything about this guy or even what he is. She scolds herself at how stupid she’s been. “What are you?”

“I’m fae,” he answers, lowering his head as an indication he’s not willing to share more than that, but she can see a story in his eyes.

“You’re a fairy?”

“No, I’m not a fairy.” His scoffs at the question, “I said, I’m fae, leave it at that.”

Rook stops, releasing his hand, “I think I should go my own way.”

He stops and turns to her, “If that’s what you’d like to do, I’m not going to make you come with me. Honestly, I think it’s taken you far too long to start questioning my motives.”

Her body stiffens, preparing herself for the revelation that he isn’t really wanting to help her.

“I thought you were smarter than that,” he says, taking a step toward her, “But I can assure you. I’m not working with the vamps and the only thing I want is a just tiny bit of your blood. In exchange, I will keep you safe until the commotion dies down and we can get you out of here.”

“My blood?”

“Yes, I can use it in my potions and make some good money.” He nods. “But I’m not going to hurt you.”

“How can I be sure?” She tilts her head upward, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Here, look into my eyes.” He opens his tired eyes widely.

“Is this a trick?” she asks.

“No,” He snickers, “Just do as you’re told, child.”

She cautiously looks into his eyes, staying at arm’s length. A feeling of warmth and comfort comes over her. She doesn’t see any visions, just has a feeling that touches her soul. She feels safe with him and trusts that he means her no harm.

She still has questions even though she feels at ease with him. “But why are you helping me?”

“Because I have a soft spot for humans.” He pulls his shoulder to his ear and continues walking through the trees. “That and Rooks are very rare.”

“So everyone seems to want my blood one way or another.” She rolls her eyes.

“That’s true, but I’ll keep you safe,” he assures her. “It’s in my own best interest, that you can trust.”

He walks up to an ancient oak, placing his hand on the tree. A golden glow takes over, the tree undulates and moves with tiny flashes of light swirling around it. “Welcome to my home.” He motions for her to enter.

She cautiously walks through the doorway, full of apprehension and hope, and all she can think to herself is will she be able to rest and feel safe in this place.