22
During the walk from the antique store to the Midnight Cauldron, I itched to talk to Killian. He had learned his lord was dead, there had been a war, and his coven was now associated with witches. I could only wonder how he was feeling.
But every time I opened my mouth to ask him, I took a good look at him, at his I-hate-the-world expression, and closed my mouth again. If I tried talking to him now, I would either push him away or get yelled at.
We arrived at the Midnight Cauldron, located in one of the narrow streets in the French Quarter and I wrinkled my nose at it. There were no signs or indications that the place was open, but I tried the door anyway.
To my surprise, it opened and I walked into the overstuffed place.
This time, Killian didn’t follow me inside. I glanced at him
