“The Castle,” Denaux looked up in awe at the gothic pointed spires of the modern tower, scraping the heavens of downtown New Orleans, blotting out the sun struggling to rise from behind the its mammoth structure. “The illustrious abode of the Brimstone family.”

  “What'd they do?” I asked, smoothing out my tattered leather jacket over a casual off-white tank and jeans.”

  “They're old money, chère.”

  “What'd they do to make it thought?”

  “Take,” Denaux's tone shifted with gravity, as he stood, his vibrantly patterned tunic blowing in the wind over a pair of gray photographer pants, and wide black sunglasses, but shoe-less, always.

  “Can I help you?” A suited man cut in, an edge to his voice.

  “We have a meeting with Mr. Brimstone,” Denaux said.

  “Which Mr. Brimstone?”

  “Isaac,” I jumped in. “He's expecting us.”

  The man looked me up and down. “He often expects your ilk.”

  “Excuse me!” I fired up, as the man retreated to a desk inside the open ornately finished double doors, and mouthed words over the phone for a minute, before flagging us over.

  “Keep ya cool, chère,” Denaux poked my sides.

  “I am...” I growled, “cool.”

  Denaux shook his head and sashayed past me, as the man escorted us past some desk security and filed us into a gold trimmed elevator, before pressing for floor 23. The ride was smooth and efficient, as we ascended rapidly.

  The doors opened just as quickly, and we were ushered out into a wide open area, sparsely decorated with modern white couches, and many empty walls. It was definitely a man's space.

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  “Mr. Brimstone will be with you shortly,” the man droned on, before returning to the elevator and disappearing behind its doors and thusly descended in an orderly fashion.

  “Not a bad place,” Denaux said, wide eyed, tipping his glasses, as he ran a finger across an oaken entryway table, and inspected his finger for dust. “Must have a good maid,” he chuckled quietly.

  “Is it that difficult to comprehend that a man can keep his own trappings held to a standard?” The shirtless Isaac entered, a towel draped partially over her post shower glistening chest, his messy wet curls with a loose matte over his scowling eyes, as he waltzed in, barefoot, black sweatpants tightly affixed around his waist.

  “What a warm welcome,” I groaned, reaching into my jacket pocket and unveiled his bracelet. “Here,” I added, tossing it in his direction haphazardly.

  Isaac moved quickly, to snatch it out of the air. “Hey, what are you thinking!” He cradled it gently in his spiked rage. “This is an heirloom.” His fist closed around it tightly.

  “Maybe you shouldn't have lost it in the first place,” I mumbled, hands slipping back into my jacket pockets.

  “You tow a fine line, a common thief with the tongue of a viper.” He sneered at me.

  “Can we drop this whole snooty talk,” I said, “I'm real tired of your attitude.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” he glared.

  “Hold up, hold up,” Denaux stepped in, “that's not why we formed this group.”

  “This isn't a group,” Isaac and I jumped on him at the same time.

  “Not yet,” Denaux beckoned. “As a team, we can unearth Perrault's plan, and take him down.” Denaux reached into his pocket and revealed the vial from the farm. “Now, you said you could analyze this?”

  Isaac sighed. “Yes, that is correct,” he walked over and reached for it.

  Denaux pulled back. “This is the only one we have, remember? Just want to make sure it's not going to waste.”

  “That's why you're here,” Isaac affirmed, “I'm not in the mood for games. Our lab in the basement can evaluate its properties.”

  “You have a lab in the basement?” I asked.

  Isaac stared in silence at me. “Yes, our business is plentiful and varied.”

  “Oh, I'm sure,” I scoffed.

  “Annabelle!” Denaux chided, speaking my name, which showed how serious he was. Denaux turned back to Isaac and handed over the vial. “How quickly do your lab rats scurry?”

  “My...technicians are skillful and prolific, you have no need to question their efficiency.”

  “So this afternoon?” I asked.

  Isaac rolled his dark, intoxicating eyes back in my direction. “Yes.” Frustration seemed to well up within his beating chest. “I see no value in this endeavor otherwise. What does a partnership offer me?”

  Denaux stood in silence for a moment. “Well...you have the finest shaman in all the bayou and chère here is...” he trailed off in thought.

  “I'm tough,” I hammered in.

  Isaac cracked a smile. “Is that right, dead girl?”

  “Don't call me girl,” I marched up to him. “I'll put you down like the dog you are!”

  Isaac grimaced and got in my face, looking me over, his eyes bouncing to my lips and back to my eyes. His scent was overpowering, a masculine sandalwood entering my senses. “Then prove it,” he commanded. “Best me in combat, pin me, and I'll work with you.”

  “Uh, chère?” Denaux moved forward, his hands up in the air in a minor state of frenzy, “I'm not sure about this.”

  “You're on,” I smirked. “When?”

  Isaac smiled. “Now.”