I ate in silence, delicately eating a Cajun crawfish and shrimp etouffe dish with gumbo that Damien had cooked with gusto. I was hesitant of the spices. Samael paid no attention to the New Orleans hotness, pausing between bites to make small talk with the werewolf bartender. We sat in the apothecary back room, gas lanterns flickering and lending the place an evening mood. I could hear the squall of the bar beyond the door. It sounded like murder, or a brothel.
"Do you like it?" Damien asked, smiling genially.
I nodded. "It's delicious."
There was a knock at the door. I startled. Samael placed his hand on my wrist to calm me. I snatched my arm away, glaring.
"It's fine, Shannon," Samael said quietly.
"Who is it?" I balked.
"Come in!" Damien called.
