Page 24 of Bewitched By the Voodoo King (The Bewitching Hour #7)
Adelle knocked on my door sometime after three in the morning.
I wasn’t asleep because who could possibly sleep after all of that?
She didn’t say anything, just climbed into my bed as if this were normal and fell into a deep sleep beside me.
At least one of us could. I’d continued to lie awake beside her until the sun came up and she blinked her tired eyes open.
“Hey,” she rasped.
“You okay?”
She shrugged. “I’m really upset that we can’t go get beignets this morning.”
“We have plenty of time to try beignets for the rest of forever,” I tried to reassure her.
She closed her eyes, and just when I thought she’d gone back to sleep, she spoke again. “Today is my father’s funeral.”
“What?” That didn’t seem right.
She nodded against the pillow. “Rune bumped it up because he’s worried about everyone’s safety after last night.”
“What did happen last night?”
Was Rune okay?
Adelle sat up in my bed and ran her hands down her arms. “The Quarter was attacked by the mist wolves again. We lost two of our own. James and Jeriko— twins, did you guess that? And four vampires. We haven’t found bodies or any traces that they were harmed.”
“What does this mean for us?”
She looked at me, and I noted the dark circles under her eyes, and just how exhausted her soul seemed to be.
I wanted to do something—anything—to make her better.
To make all of this better. “It means that we continue to prepare for the full moon for when our magic is at its strongest, and then we will go looking for our people. Rune… he wants to charge into the swamp magic blazing, but we all know nothing good will come of that.”
I swallowed hard. “Rune… he was with me right before Louis came to the door. Is he alright?”
Adelle’s frown only deepened. “I wish I could answer that.”
“I’ve never been to a funeral in New Orleans, what should I wear?” Maybe changing the subject was best.
She seemed to perk up at that. “You’ll need to come to my room for all of the best clothes, of course.”
Her room was a disaster when we walked through the door.
There were clothes, an occasional bonnet or two, and shoes everywhere.
She marched straight to her closet and pulled out a black dress with lace sleeves.
“In New Orleans, we grieve, yes, but we also celebrate. Our funerals are loud with memories, love, and mourning. We wear things that would have made the dead smile.”
I took the dress from her and ran my finger over the stitching. It didn’t seem like something she would wear. “Did this belong to someone else?”
Adelle smiled faintly. “My aunt. She passed during Katrina. My mom saved her best things. I always wanted to wear it, but I knew it would never be me, now I know I always held onto it for you.”
“I don’t want to say the wrong thing,” I admitted. “Or do the wrong thing.”
“You’re not from here,” Adelle said gently. “No one expects you to know everything. Just show up. Be present. That’s what matters.”
I nodded as she sprayed some product onto her hand and moved behind me to fix my hair. I nodded as she worked her fingers through the curly strands of my hair. “Where have you been all of my life?” I sighed as she continued to play with my hair.
She laughed softly behind me. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
The brass band’s beginning notes sliced through the silence that had wrapped around me like a glove. Adelle told me she was going to hang back with me so I wasn’t alone, but thankfully, Maggie talked some sense into her.
The robust woman stood beside me with tears streaked down her face as the funeral procession came into view. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. It was beautiful, haunting, and magnificent.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Maggie gently touched my elbow.
“There,” she whispered.
Rune walked at the front of the procession, flanked by Adelle, their mother, and two other women I’d never met before.
His face was unreadable, carved from stone, but the weight of his grief radiated off him like heat.
He wore a white button up, sleeves rolled, and a charm necklace I hadn’t seen before—a woven talisman of bone that glowed faintly against his chest.
The casket was carried by Louis and other men who looked slightly familiar, though I knew I’d never met them before. Behind them were witches walking in perfect rhythm to the brass band’s swelling song. Some cried. Some sang. Some danced.
It was joy braided with pain.
It was a ritual stitched into the soul of the city.
I felt it everywhere— in my bones and my soul.
The casket passed in front of me, and I staggered slightly, overwhelmed by a sudden pulse of heat in my chest. Maggie caught me gently.
“Let it move through you,” she murmured. “This city has a heartbeat. It’s just saying your name.”
I blinked hard as my eyes burned with unshed tears.
Rune’s gaze found mine just as the song shifted into something lighter—still reverent, but with a rhythm that made feet tap and hands lift to the sky. His lips curled up just slightly before he turned back to the people waiting past me.
The procession moved forward, and I followed, not at the front, not at the back—somewhere in between. The place for someone who didn’t yet know where she belonged, Maggie was right beside me every step of the way.
The band played on, and somewhere behind us, someone began to sing. Not a hymn but a celebration of life. My heart and soul soared with each note.
With every passing second, I knew that this was where I was meant to be.