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Badb, who had been quiet during the ride, launched herself into a quick tour of the garage.

“She’s stretching her wings after the trip,” Kierce explained for her.

“Tell her not to poop on the hearses.” I tracked her zooming laps. “Rollo would bake her into a pie.”

“I would pay to see him try.” Josie opened the trunk. “My money’s on Badb.”

As she and Kierce gathered our luggage, Pascal handed me the spelled box that rode over on his lap.

Once I pried up the lid, I caught a whiff of grave dirt and smiled as blue mist flowed over the sides.

Materializing on a yawn, Pedro stretched his arms over his head. “Now that’s what I call a nap.”

The box was a protective measure to ensure he was safe from the sun in the event of an emergency.

“Welcome to New Orleans.” I fastened the lid and placed it under the seat. “I’m not sure how you slept with Pascal bouncing his knee, and you with it, the whole way, but I’m glad you did. You guys have been working too hard.”

“I would say I’ll rest when I’m dead, but death is boring without an occupation.”

“Hey, Pascal.” Josie hurled Matty’s bag straight into his gut. “Make yourself useful.”

Wheezing, Pascal hooked the strap over his shoulder and followed me to the elevator.

The lift, as Vi called it, had been installed to make life easier on Vi’s mother after a certain age. Rollo modernized it about ten years ago for Vi after her determination to get all her groceries in one trip resulted in a nasty fall down a flight of stairs. I wasn’t grateful to Rollo for much, but I couldn’t fault how well he cared for his grandmother.

As soon as the doors opened onto the living room, Jean-Claude Dancosse was there. An old friend and the Fontenot family doctor, he swept me into a bear hug that brought tears stinging to my eyes. “You don’t know how good it is to see you.”

He was nearly seven feet tall, which had resulted in him developing a hunch in his back from stooping through doorways and avoiding light fixtures. His dark skin bore patterns drawn in ash, and his black hair was coiled tight against his head as though afraid of brushing the ceiling. He smelled like coffee, woodsmoke, and catmint.

“I thought you done left us for good.” He swung me around until I giggled like a little kid. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” I latched my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “I should have?—”

“None of that now.” He squeezed me hard then set me down with a stern glare. “Hear me,cher?” He patted my sister on the head. “Good to see you too, Josie-bee. Is that chow chow for Momma Jean?”

“Sure is, JC.” She passed over the jars I hadn’t noticed her remove from her bag. “I have more at home the next time she gets a hankering.”

Prior to her death, Momma Jean—his grandmother—had gotten herself addicted to Josie’s peach chow chow. And while I usually stuck to my no-eating rule for loaners, I owed Jean-Claude for a favor, a month with his grandmother free of charge, and Josie’s contribution was half the payment due.

“Thanks as always.” He waited for my nod before he set his sights on Matty. “Hello, young man.”

“Pascal Suarez.” He stuck out his arm. “Nice to meet you.” They shook once. “That’s my brother, Pedro.”

“Welcome, Pedro.” He tipped his chin. “I appreciate y’all helping our girl out of a tight spot.” His appraisal of our group hit its end, landing on Kierce. “I been looking forward to meeting you, reaper.”

“He’s not a grim.” I rolled my eyes at Jean-Claude. “He’s more like Dis Pater’s personal assistant.”

“You know he write cat murder mysteries?” He barked out a laugh. “How a cat gonna solve anything?”

Badb was quick to crow her agreement with him, which softened Kierce’s expression into amusement.

“Now a crow…” Jean-Claude clucked to her, and she preened for him. “That’s a fine animal.”

“I agree.” Kierce stuck out his arm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jean-Claude shook hands with him, their lingering clasp veering into awkward territory, the clash of their gazes reminding me of the wordless conversations Kierce held with Badb. “We understand one another?”

“Yes.” Kierce’s voice dropped into a lower register. “I believe we do.”