reach out for help if we need it.”
“Can you whistle?” Evee asked.
Lucien looked at her quizzically.
“Simple question,” Evee said. “Can you whistle?”
Lucien pressed his bottom lip against his bottom teeth and let out a loud, ear-piercing whistle.
Evee clamped her hands over her ears until he finished, then said, “Sounds good to me.” She turned to Ronan. “How about you?”
Without preamble, Ronan pressed two fingers against his bottom lip and let out a whistle just as shrill as Lucien’s, if not louder.
“Good,” Evee said. “If either one of you gets into trouble, whistle long and loud, and I’ll come for you right away.”
“No matter where we are?” Lucien asked. “Your hearing’s that good?”
“Better than a hound’s,” Evee said.
“What about you?” Lucien asked. “What if you get into trouble? You plan to whistle, as well?”
Evee gave him a small smile. “Nope, sorry. I can’t whistle my way out of a bucket. If I find my Nosferatu, I’ll take care of them myself. I know how to deal with them. And if I run into a Cartesian, trust me, I’ll run like hell and find you.”
“You can’t outrun a Cartesian,” Lucien said. “If you see a rift appear, the best thing for you to do is hightail it into the nearest building. Stay out of sight. When the half hour mark comes around, and you don’t show, we’ll at least know what direction to head to find you.”
“What exactly does a rift look like?”
Lucien thought for a moment, stroked his beard. “Think of it as a black wound, one blacker than black. You can see it even on a moonless, starless night. When it first appears it’s like a black strip, a stitched wound in the sky. Then, as the Cartesians work their way through it, it begins to widen, like the stitches are being ripped away from the wound.”
Evee shivered at the thought. “Believe me,” she said. “Any of those ugly mothers won’t have a chance to get a hand out of a rift before I haul ass. Don’t worry. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for anything odd in the sky.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” Lucien said.
“I agree,” Ronan said, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
“Suppose you’re so focused on finding the Nosferatu that you don’t notice a Cartesian until it’s halfway through a rift and reaching for you?” Lucien asked.
Evee gave him a stern look. “I’m not stupid.”
“I in no way assumed or meant to imply you were,” Lucien said, and arched a brow.
“I’ll be alert,” Evee said.
“But how can you look for your Nosferatu and watch for rifts overhead?” Ronan asked.
Evee scrubbed a hand over her face as if to wipe away frustration. “Remember, I have a slight advantage over the two of you. I can sense my Nosferatu. I’ll keep my Spidey senses tuned to them while watching overhead.”
It took another fifteen minutes before the three of them finally agreed to the divide-and-conquer method Evee had proposed.
When they finally left the catacombs, Ronan immediately headed for the French Quarter and Lucien started walking west, down the riverwalk. He watched Evee take off for the east bank of the river, watched her long, lean body stride with confidence, her shoulder-length black hair blown back by the wind. He remembered how her copper-colored eyes glinted with determination as they’d discussed their search-and-rescue plan. Lucien worried about her, more so now than ever.
Although the Triad looked similar, they weren’t identical. Their eyes told different stories, as did their personalities. Evee always seemed to be the peacemaker, the one to handle things more logically than her sisters. She was also more apt to follow than lead. At this point, Lucien feared Evee had reached the point of desperation. That was why she had suggested they split up to search for her Nosferatu. He still felt like it was a big mistake.
As Lucien watched Evee’s body fade off into the distance, his pace slowed. He continued heading west but kept looking back for her every few seconds. She continued heading east, and when he could barely make out her silhouette, Lucien suddenly felt like he was trudging through knee-deep mud.
He wasn’t as worried about Ronan. His cousin was sharp and knew how to fight no matter what he faced. Ronan could easily take care of himself. But if a Cartesian attacked Evee, she’d be helpless. All the bravado she’d displayed in their conversation in the catacombs was one thing, but Lucien feared that dealing with a Cartesian, especially the unreliability of a Cartesian, would be far beyond her powers.
As crucial as it was to find the missing Nosferatu before any humans were attacked, he felt it was a greater priority to keep the Cartesians away from the Originals and especially the Triad he was responsible for. He would never be able to live with himself if something happened to Evee.
Lucien trudged another block west before suddenly doing an about-face and beginning to head east, in Evee’s direction.
Something about the woman drew him, called to him. Lucien couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he just knew that he had to take care of her above all else.
He picked up his pace, almost to a run, wanting to at least catch sight of Evee as soon as possible. He heard the calliope of a steamboat in the distance as it chugged along the river. He smelled burgers and fries, pizza and pralines, all of which made his stomach rumble. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
The farther he headed east, the more the crowds began to dissipate, and the cacophony of music, talking and laughter muted to a distant hum.
It felt like he’d walked five miles before he finally spotted Evee walking along the river’s edge, just as she had been before. He noticed her gaze shifting from left to right, then up, obviously trying to sense her Nosferatu and watching for Cartesians at the same time.
Suddenly Evee came to an abrupt stop, and even from where Lucien stood he saw a quizzical look cross her face. She looked up again, turned her head to one side, and Lucien saw her mouth drop open. He followed her gaze and saw it—a widening rift in the sky right above her. A Cartesian was hanging out from it at the waist.
“Run!” Lucien shouted to Evee, then yanked his scabior out of its sheath.
The Cartesian, evidently hearing Lucien’s yell, threw Lucien a piercing, evil look, narrowing its monstrous eyes.
Obviously determined to complete the task before it, the Cartesian turned away from Lucien, stuck one of its long, furry arms tipped with four-inch razor-sharp talons out of the rift, then lifted its arm up and out, aiming for Evee.
It wasn’t hard to determine that Evee had seen the same, for she let out a heart-stopping scream, then took off running—right into the river.
Lucien charged his scabior and shot a bolt of lightning at the Cartesian, hitting it square in the head. It shrieked and flew backward into the rift, and Lucien heard a
