Demons of Bourbon Street (47 page)

I gave her a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“
This way.” She ushered us into the turn of the century home, its foyer bigger than my entire apartment. We moved into the grand great room, where the rich oak stairs curved gracefully to the second floor. I sighed, imagining Scarlett O’Hara running down the steps into Rhett’s arms.

“
Through here,” the guide said, not bothering to give us a history on the place. The house was gorgeous, but the tour sucked.

“
Lord help her if there’s a comment card to fill out at the end of this thing,” I mumbled to Kane.

He suppressed a laugh. We entered what could only be called a parlor, and I gasped. My mom and Gwen and all my friends, Kat, Pyper, Ian, Lucien, Charlie, Lailah, and Bea, sat around a large mahogany table.

“
Surprise!” they yelled in unison.

“
What’s this?” I asked, stunned.

Kane put his arm around me. “It’s sort of an engagement brunch.”

Warmth spread in my heart and my lips quirked. “A what?”

He shrugged. “You needed to get out and everyone wanted to see you, so instead of a party, we arranged a brunch.”

“
Complete with wedding planning strategies.” Pyper waved a notebook. “Go on, tell her the rest.”

Kane grinned sheepishly at me and led me back into the great hall. “What do you think?”

I glanced around. “Of what? The house?”

“
Of getting married here.”

It was the last thing I’d expected him to say.

“
We don’t have to have it here,” he went on. “It’s just this is where my grandparents had their ceremony, and I always thought it must have been something magical to see. I want that for us, but only if you do.”

The love shining through his eyes when he said those words was more than enough to make me fall in love all over again. I reached up and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’d love to.”

He pulled me close, kissing me slowly.

We broke apart, and I snuggled into his chest. “I guess that means we need to pick a date. I bet they’re booked for months,” I said wistfully.

He cleared his throat.

I leaned back and looked up at him. “Don’t tell me you already reserved one.”

“
Not exactly. The house isn’t usually available for weddings. Fortunately, I happen to know the owner.”

“
And this owner would be…?”

He grinned.

“
Kane?”

He gathered me close again and whispered in my ear. “You. The house is your wedding present.”

“
What?” I stepped back, clutching the railing of the stairwell to steady myself. “You bought this place for me?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth. “No, I already owned it. Mamaw left it to me. You said you always wanted to live in a farmhouse. I thought this might be close enough.”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “You…I mean… How come you didn’t tell me you owned another house?” I waved my hand around. “Look at this place. It’s…it’s unreal.”

A guilty smile turned his lips up. “I did say I had other property.”

“
Yeah! I thought you meant you had other commercial buildings. Not a freakin’ historical treasure.”

“
You like it then? You’ll accept it as a wedding gift?”

I stared at him, wondering if he’d lost his mind. “You can’t give this place to me. It’s your family house.”

“
You’re
my family, Jade.” He gently pulled me back into his embrace. “The month you were gone? I’m never going through that again. You’re stuck with me. Marry me. Live with me here or in the city or in Idaho. I don’t care. Everything I have is yours as long as you promise to be my wife.”

I stared into those wonderful chocolate-brown eyes and melted all over again. I cleared my throat. “Is the tour guide always here?”

“
You mean, Jillian? The house manager?” Kane furrowed his brow in confusion. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting the random question.

“
Yeah, her.”

“
No, she only comes when there’s an event to coordinate. Why?”

I grinned. “I’m wondering how fast we can ditch everyone and christen the master bedroom. I’d like to test run my role as Mrs. Rouquette.”

Kane let out a whoop, picked me up, and spun me around.

I laughed, and he lowered me to my feet, crushing his lips to mine.

When we finally came up for air, Pyper stood off to the side, tapping her foot. “Cool it, horn dogs. We spent a lot of time planning this shindig. Get your sorry asses back to the party so we can celebrate.”

I saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

She spun on her heel and we followed. Right before we joined the others, Kane whispered in my ear. “One hour, tops.”

Giggling, I tugged him into the parlor, where the people closest to us waited. The family I never thought I’d have. The family I cherished. And with my second chance on life, I wasn’t ever letting go.

About the Author

Deanna is a native Californian, transplanted to the slower paced lifestyle of southeastern Louisiana. When she isn’t writing, she is often goofing off with her husband in New Orleans, playing with her two shih tzu dogs, making glass beads, or out hocking her wares at various bead shows across the country. Want the next book in the series? Visit
www.DeannaChase.com
to sign up for the New Releases email list. Look for
Influential Magic
, the first of a new series, to be released this winter.

Other Books by Deanna:

Haunted on Bourbon Street

Witches of Bourbon Street

Witches of Bourbon Street Excerpt

I sat cross-legged in Bea’s cheery, yellow living room, trying not to scowl. White witch, my ass. After two hours of trying to manipulate my so-called power, I was ready to tell Bea and her nephew, Ian, exactly what they could do with their magic lessons.

Only, I couldn’t.

While battling with an evil spirit three months ago, Bea’s energy had been compromised, and she’d never recovered. For some ungodly reason she was convinced I was a witch and the answer for a cure.

I took in the dark circles rimming her eyes and her pale, waxy skin. The vibrant southern lady I’d come to admire had been replaced by a tired shell of an elderly woman destined for a retirement village.

All my irritation vanished. I had to do something. Anything.

Determined to get it right this time, I held one hand out to Bea and the other to Ian. Sweat trickled the length of my nose. It clung to the tip before landing silently on the patchwork area rug. For the hundredth time that day, I opened my senses, trying to harness Ian’s energy and hold it in my awareness long enough to transfer it to Bea. Ian’s anxious anticipation pressed against my skin, making me flinch.

“
Focus, Jade,” Bea said. “Remember what I said about compartmentalizing.”

Stop focusing on what Ian is feeling, and focus on his essence.

When I’d given her a blank look, she’d gone on to explain:
The essence of an individual is made up of both their soul and spirit. Spirit is basically life energy, while the soul is what gives a person the ability to feel compassion, love, and all the things that make one human.

Okay. Essence. I could do that. I’d done it before, only I’d thought of it as emotional energy. Somewhere in the corner of my mind, I closed the door on my empath ability. The three of us sat there holding sweaty hands as I tried to mentally connect with Ian. As usual, nothing happened. All right. Time for a new tactic. Instead of trying to get into his head, I concentrated on his heart. Slowly, the threads of Ian’s inner light started to tickle my senses. I imagined a siphon attached to a glass beaker and focused on capturing the essence Bea needed to be strong again. A swirly mist started to fill my beaker.

Success! After weeks of instruction, I’d finally grasped the technique Bea insisted I had the skill to master. Elation caused me to redouble my efforts.

With a full container of mist, I turned my attention to Bea, intent on sending her nephew’s strong energy into her being. Instantly, my imaginary beaker exploded. Ian’s hard-won healing essence evaporated into nothing.

“
Damn it,” I growled.

“
Negativity won’t help anything, dear.” Bea slumped back against her sunflower print loveseat.

Argh!
I yelled in my head and looked at Ian helplessly.

He wiped his face with a cloth handkerchief and stood. “I’m getting some more tea. Anyone else?”

“
Please.” I pulled my shirt away from my body and leaned toward the oscillating fan to my left.

Ian studied his aunt. “Bea? Tea or water?”

“
No, thank you. I’m fine.” She rose gracefully to her feet then settled into the loveseat under a ray of sunshine. She tilted her face, warming it in the light. With each passing day, her ability to stay warm diminished, and despite the stifling heat, she wore black slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, topped with a cardigan sweater.

Just looking at her raised my internal temperature ten degrees. I stood. “I’ll be outside. I need a break.”

“
I’ll meet you out there,” Ian said from the kitchen.

With effort, I managed to not slam the French door behind me as I escaped to the screened-in patio. The overhead fans rotated full force, showering me with a steady stream of much-needed air. I sat directly beneath one and stared out onto the perfectly manicured lawn, edged with a vibrant bed of hibiscus plants. What else would one expect from a carriage home in the Garden District of New Orleans?

While it was still beautiful, I missed the variety of colorful annuals that had long since given up in the summer heat. I’d offered to help Bea with the fall garden, but she’d waved me off, saying I had better things to do with my time.

Like figure out how to energy meld. After banishing Roy—an evil spirit who used to haunt the club in my building—Bea had never fully recovered, leaving her cold and weak. When her doctor didn’t find anything wrong, he’d prescribed a vitamin regimen. It wasn’t helping, though Bea had said all along she knew it wouldn’t. Her essence had been zapped, and there were only two ways to restore it: time or the help of another witch. But not just any witch. Apparently it took a white witch. Something both Bea and Lailah—her shop assistant—insisted I was. I didn’t agree. I’m an empath, someone who can read others’ emotions, not a witch. Or at least not a powerful one, judging by my lack of ability to transfer Ian’s energy to Bea.