A few minutes later, I rounded a corner and smiled. The gumbo truck was there. People milled around the plaza area, browsing the numerous booths set up. This was one of my favorite parts of living here. Craftsmen and artists of all kinds gathered here on the weekends to peddle their works. I had several pieces of art in my home I'd bought from here. I tucked my hands in my pockets and headed straight over to the food truck.
The same man took my order as the last few times I'd bought there. He was old with white hair tightly curled to his head and dark skin. His eyes were shiny, dark orbs, and he had a quick, friendly smile and a witty sense of humor. His accent was thick Creole and rolled off his tongue so fast I sometimes had trouble understanding him.
"You're the one who eats a lot and has nothing to show for it, young man?" he questioned.
I was no young man, but I guess I looked it to the humans. I patted my flat stomach and grinned at the old man. "I work it all off during the day." I rattled off my order and on a whim, I purchased an extra quart to take home and another small order extra.
"You feeding an army then?" he questioned, one white brow rising.
"Just me," I assured him. "I can get at least three days of meals out of this."
"Don't you go wasting none of this," he lectured me as he rang me up.
"I wouldn't dream of it, sir." I handed over exact change and moved to the left of the register so he could take the next order. While I waited I looked around. The air felt charged tonight. People were energetic and smiling, and there was a hint of something new in the air. I couldn't put my finger on it. I looked around and noticed some of the regulars - a woman who read palms and sold fake trinkets, a jewelry maker who made her coin from her talent with metal, an artist who specialized only in weird dog paintings with huge eyes, and several tarot readers.
I grabbed my order when the old man pushed it out to me and snagged an open bench seat. As I ate, I people watched and sighed in relief. I loved Beastly, but the atmosphere there was always charged. Everyone was a hair trigger away from fighting or fucking. The air tonight was crisp and cool, and I had no one to answer to except for myself.
A prickling feeling hit the back of my neck as I took my last bite of the gumbo. I learned long ago not to ignore warnings, so I stood and tossed the empty container in the trash, carefully looking around, but I couldn't find anything worth my attention. I headed down to the end of booths and began to walk, checking out the items as I went.
The smell of something dark and mysterious hit my nose just as I ventured to the fifth booth. I lifted my eyes, and the world fell from underneath my feet.
The woman sitting in front of me had skin like cream and hair as dark as a raven's wing. Her eyes were deep, crystal blue and her lips were blood red. She was Snow White in the flesh, but I was no prince. I sucked in a ragged gasp and the woman's brows knit as she stared at me.
"Would you like your fortune read or do you want to stand there staring at me all night?" Her voice was sweet and lyrical, but she waved her hand at me like an annoyed fishwife. "You're so big you're keeping all my customers away!" The woman's brows knit together as she looked up at me. "Either pay up or move out," she snapped.
My mouth fell open, and it took me a moment to recover. "Do you get a lot of customers with that snappy attitude I asked her?"
Her blue eyes flashed murder. "My customer base is none of your business, but I normally have room in my booth for two people to stand, that's for sure!"
My lips twitched in amusement and I fished my wallet out of my pocket. "How much for a reading?"
The woman chewed on her lips for a moment as she studied me. "Forty," she announced. "I tacked on ten extra for annoying me."
I blanched. "That's outrageous!"
She shrugged. "Who's to say?" Her voice was prim. "I set my own prices based on how hard I think the reading will be or when someone like you traipses into my tent and acts like he owns the place."
My lips thinned as I tossed two twenties down on the table. I set my wallet down and sat in the seat in front of her table. It was so small I could barely fit in it.
She smirked. "See. You're a big bastard, aren't you?"
A laugh escaped me. "I can't imagine you have a large customer base with your attitude."
"No one cares about my attitude when my predictions come true," she said with an acerbic bite in her tone. "Now let me see your hand for a moment."
I believed in a lot of weird shit, but I knew for a fact most of the people here in the plaza were bullshit artists. And most of them were pretty. They lured customers in, fed them a load of bullshit and pocketed the change for their lies. I'd only known a couple of true psychics, Cal being one of them. Though I wouldn't call him a psychic as much as a conduit. He could see some future events which he used to scare the shit out of all of us.
The woman made a tsking noise. "Hand it over before my hair goes gray," she snapped.
I held my hand out to her, and she took it. Her hands were small and cool and pale, and when she touched me I felt like everything inside of me froze and then thawed. Her touch was like sunshine and I'd been trapped in winter for all my life. I blinked at her as she frowned over my palm.
What the hell was I doing? Clara was my mate.
Wasn't she?
No one should have this kind of effect on me if I were mated. Was it because the bond hadn't solidified yet? I stared at the woman's bowed head and let my gaze travel down. She wore a loose and baggy sweater, one creamy pale shoulder exposed. Her hair tumbled dark and loose around her shoulders. The only jewelry she wore was silver bangles around her right wrist.
She wore no ring.
I swallowed hard.
The woman tapped the palm of my hand. "You've had heartache," she said as she touched a line on my palm. My entire body vibrated in response to the feel of her fingers. "Devastation," she corrected. Her bright blue gaze met mine. "You lost her." Sympathy flashed in her eyes for a moment before she dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry."
"It was long ago," I said, my voice hoarse. She was right. Losing my first mate felt like my heart had been ripped out and stomped on. I was not myself for the first three or four years afterward. Even now, I still keenly felt the loss, though it was more of the loss of someone to share my life with, rather than the loss of Evangelina.
“But I see there is another love for you,” she murmured as she traced another line. “Perhaps something even greater in store for you. I do not claim to make comparisons, nor do I claim to know what that kind of love is like, but this one …” she paused and an impertinent smile curled her lips. “This one looks to bear many children for you. You will love her like no other." She tilted her chin up, and I noticed her eyes were unfocused. Whoever she was, she appeared to be the real deal. "You are not what you seem. Humans do not get to love like this. Their lives are too short. Their emotions too fickle. What are you?” She blinked, and the moment between us snapped.
My mouth went dry as the Sahara. Children. I'd never even thought about it, nor had I given myself any room to hope for it. Not even after my brother's mate had children. I didn't dare to hope now, for snatching that dream away from me would be even crueler than the hope of it. I wasn’t surprised she could tell I wasn’t quite human, but I wouldn’t discuss my secrets in the psychic market section of the French Quarter.