Before we could speak or blink, rainbow magic hit us like a cloud to the face. When the mist faded, we were in a city that I almost recognized but couldn’t put my finger on. There was something about the wrought iron gates in front of me that felt significant. “Where are we?”

“N’Orlens.” Savannah spun in a circle with a wide grin on her face. She took a deep breath like she was trying to inhale the place, then let it out slowly, her shoulders dropping. “Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d think this was my dream.”

That made me chuckle. “Note to self: bring Savannah to New Orleans as soon as possible.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time. No, sir.”

I smiled. “I wonder whose dream this is?”

“It’s mine,” a familiar voice said suddenly from behind me.

I gasped and spun around, my heart in my throat. “Braison.” I moved to hug him, but he held his hands up.

“There’s been too much of that going on here.” Braison’s green eyes slid over our surroundings in odd silence, like he was memorizing the details. “Shadows hold secrets here.”

“What does that mean?” I shook my head and moved closer to him, but he kept the distance. “Braison⁠—”

“They bite and turn and linger in their bones.” His voice was low and melodic, a voice I’d never heard the Braison I knew use.

“Ma’am, that’s creepy. Just say it.” Savannah shuddered.

“Ask around, Moneypenny. Sight unseen.” Braison shoved his hands in his pockets and started backing away from us. “Maybe spread the good word, after all, it’s almost hurricane season.”

What? I scratched my head as Braison turned and strolled away from us. That didn’t make any sense. It was gibberish. Did he call her Moneypenny? Like the secretary in James Bond—OH. Oh shit. That was a message, Cooper. He’s being sneaky. I wanted to smack myself. Clearly Braison needed to tell us something, so he’d waited for me to find him in his sleep. But why didn’t he just say it? This is a dream. The idea that these dreams weren’t safe or private sent a sharp chill down my spine.

Or maybe he’s being extra cautious? Just focus on what he said so you can relay the message.

Braison started whistling that song from the musical Chicago. The one Deacon was always singing. The razzle dazzle song—OHH. Dammit, Cooper, be faster. Smarter. I nodded to my old friend as he rounded the corner and out of sight. Wait, that’s also a message. He could’ve left the way he came—suddenly and unannounced. He could’ve run off with vampire speed. But he chose to stroll to that corner.

“Savannah, do you know where we are exactly?” I pointed ahead. “That street corner too?”

“Like the back of my hand. Why?”