Page 16

A s I tossed and turned in bed all day, my mind buzzed over what Rollo had learned at his party. Not that I had been allowed to question him. But the possibilities were driving me crazy. A short trip, these days.

Hosting had wiped him out, and Jean-Claude put him to bed with strict orders for me not to grill him. Which could only mean that what he found out wasn’t earth-shattering enough for Jean-Claude to deem it worth the risk to Rollo’s health.

Lucky for me, I had plenty of other worries rattling around to distract from that one.

For all the talk about trust, I had to face two hard truths at dusk.

Matty and Vi were running out of time faster than an easy solution could be found.

And I couldn’t count on Kierce to help me do what needed to be done to break them free.

For whatever reason, Dis Pater had gone from viewing me as a mild irritant to a potential threat. That or I was being punished for leveling up in power. Not that I had planned to become the guardian of anything, let alone a pantheon of gods I didn’t know existed until Anunit started killing people. I had my hands full with my siblings, thank you very much.

Kierce was in danger of getting hit with fresh orders that he couldn’t ignore, and I couldn’t risk creating a situation where that was a possibility. Not in the state my brother was in. So, I had to look elsewhere for backup. The ideal candidate, as it happened, was the least desirable one. Even if he was also the most qualified for what I had in mind.

Unable to stomach waiting a moment longer, I tugged on clothes and crept down the bright hall.

Hand poised to knock on Rollo’s office door, I girded my loins for the conversation ahead of me.

“I can hear your teeth grinding through the wood,” he called out. “You might as well come in.”

After unclenching my jaw, I did just that and found him sitting at his desk with a ledger open. I scrounged for the best opening, debating how to convince him, but I kept drawing a blank. I couldn’t tell if it stemmed from general distaste in asking him for a favor or if it was my gut warning me the plan was doomed to fail.

“Well?” He spun his chair around and crossed one leg over the other. “What you want, maroquin ?”

To smack him for the nickname, but that was old news. “To know what last night was about.”

“An acquaintance ran down the name of the saint to go along with your finger bone.”

An unexpected surge of hope had me ready to forgive him the nickname. “And?”

“Claude Tremé.” He noticed my eyebrows inching higher. “Yes, that Tremé.”

Back in the 1800s, Claude Tremé bought the Morand Plantation. He combined it, along with two forts—St. Ferdinand and St. John—into a project that would go on to become the iconic neighborhood many of New Orleans’s free people of color had called home.

The Storyville red-light district. Congo Square. St. Augustine Church. St. Louis Cemetery No. 1.

All those famous landmarks called Faubourg Treme home.

Tremé was also famous for its jazz funerals and second line parades.

But that was thanks to the people, the heart and soul of the community, not the founder.

A white French hatmaker, Tremé married a freed slave, true, but he also owned slaves. Some twenty years prior to subdividing the plantation, he was sentenced to five years in prison after killing an enslaved man. Not what I would call saintly behavior. “How certain is your source?”

“He was integral to founding a historic neighborhood that has been praised for its culture and immortalized in film and photographs since its creation.”

“Hmm.” I thought about what he wasn’t saying. “I didn’t realize the loophole could work that way.”

Similar to how death gods absorbed praise and prayers spoken in cemeteries and graveyards, he was implying historical figures could reap the benefits of their achievements long after their deaths. That, posthumously, their remains could become relics.

“Neither did I, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

“Someone must have seen the potential and decided to help themselves to his bones.”

“We’re careful with our dead here in the city, so it’s hard to grave rob. Nowadays, anyway. At the time of his death, Tremé hadn’t garnered enough fame to make his remains valuable, I wouldn’t think. But, if someone waited a few years for a good flood, and if bodies started floating to the surface, then anyone aiding with cleanup and reinternment could help themselves to what they wanted with a much lower risk of getting caught.”

The reason mausoleums, vaults, and crypts were popular in New Orleans was a practical matter, not an aesthetic one. The city was bowl-shaped, and when hurricanes struck, neighborhoods flooded. Much of the area was well below sea level, making natural drainage impossible.

Settlers learned quickly they couldn’t bury their dead, or every time a storm blew through, bodies would wash out of their graves into the streets. The solution was building aboveground structures to house the dead. Mausoleums were popular, though only the rich could afford private ones. Everyone else relied on crypts or vaults.

In the end, rich or poor, the result was the same.

Each corpse was sealed in for a year and a day, allowing the intense Southern heat and humidity to cook the flesh off the bones. Then, the next time a family member died, the remaining bones were bagged up and tossed in the rear of the chamber. Then a fresh body was slid in to begin the process over again.

Using that method, dozens of family members over generations could share a final resting place.

Tremé was buried in a sealed mausoleum with his wife, Julie Moro Tremé, in St. Louis Cemetery No. 2.

The cemetery had been temporarily closed due to vandalism and negligence, creating the perfect atmosphere for a determined thief with the right tools to help themselves, but that was a recent problem. There were a whole lot of opportunities between 1828, when he died, and now to snatch one.

“What are the odds it’s actually Julie’s bone? She passed before him, right?”

Until he got me thinking about her, I had forgotten the Moreau Plantation had been her inheritance. Claude came into possession of its title through their marriage. That gave her even stronger ties to it.

“Ten or fifteen years earlier, yeah.”

One of her bones could have wound up in someone’s pocket while her husband’s final resting place was secured, but it was all speculation.

“I don’t suppose it matters which Tremé was violated beyond it explaining where the parade is held and why the enchantment manifests as a parade at all. The important part is, I know who has the bone and where he lives.”

“And just who is that?”

“Dis Pater.”

“Dis…Pater…” His eyes grew impossibly round. “The death god?”

“Um. Yes?” I plucked at my bottom lip. “I’ve been to his house via astral projection, so I think I can find that pathway again.”

“What good will that do?” He tapped his pen on his desk. “You can’t bring it back with you, and you can’t destroy it there, since you can’t touch it.”

There were no guarantees the bone wasn’t in Dis Pater’s pocket, given its diminutive size. But, petty as he was, I got the sense he would have flashed it at me if he had been carrying it on him. That left his home as the most likely location to store it. His house was protected from everyone but me. And, as Rollo pointed out, I wasn’t a threat to the relic if I couldn’t put hands on it.

“The plan is to sneak in, get the physical address, and then poof myself there in the flesh. Then I can either steal the relic or destroy it. Depends on what I walk in on.”

That was a beat of rogue optimism talking. More than likely, a plane ticket would be involved.

“Do you make sense to other people, or do you save your crazy for me?”

“I managed to…I don’t know…teleport? Only once, and I was out of my mind at the time, but still.”

“So, what I’m hearing is, you really are crazy.”

“It was a stressful few minutes, okay? I had just seen Josie’s throat slit. I lost track of time for a beat.”

“Josie?” The color drained from his face, and he glanced toward the door. “I…”

“I was able to heal her, with Anunit’s help.” More or less. “She’s fine. Fully recovered. Not even a scar.”

“Then what…?” Slapping his hands on his thighs, he planted both feet on the floor. “Can we start again?”

Poor guy. It was a lot. I understood his confusion. Really. My life was a dumpster fire lately, and random gods were holding the matches. Except for the ones donating the gasoline. Normal people didn’t have these problems. I was just lucky, I guess.

“I need you to anchor me.” I broke it down for him. “I want to trace my path back to Dis Pater’s house.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?”

“The jury is still out.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “I asked you for help, didn’t I?”

“This bone…” He rallied himself. “You think destroying it will end the parade?”

“I do.” I hesitated, but he caught me at it. “But, in the interest of full transparency, it might also end the people in the parade.”

That was why I would prefer to steal it then bring it here until we decided how to dismantle it properly.

“The souls who have been trapped the longest.” He followed my train of thought. “They might be too weak to survive the trip back to their bodies.”

“If they aren’t trained in astral projection, they won’t have any clue how to navigate if they’re simply cut free. We have to hope they’ll be sent back to their bodies the same way their souls were snatched out of them.”

“But you’re not reversing the enchantment,” he pointed out. “You’re ending it.”

Meaning, potentially, that the souls would be cut loose, and it would turn into a free-for-all.

“If we leave them, they’ll die. Some of them will no matter what we do.” Including my brother, and Vi. “We have to do something, and we have to do it fast. We’ve wasted enough time tracking down leads that go nowhere.”

“Okay.” He slid his sharp gaze past my shoulder. “Why isn’t your boyfriend helping you?”

“Dis Pater is his god. Kierce can’t act against his best interests. He’s already been ordered not to help me physically remove spirits from the parade, and I can’t extract individuals the way I did with you without him. That’s why you and I are doing this. Now. It’s the only way I can think of to save them.”

“Josie wasn’t lying.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have the worst taste in men.”

Hard to argue the point when one was currently possessed by a divine beast who had used his body as a vehicle for an all-she-could-eat tour of the city and the other was one order away from being a threat to everything I loved. Everything else I loved?

Okay.

Skip the love part for now.

That was a big word, and this trip had thrown up some serious roadblocks. Like free will.

“Are you going to help me or not?” I decided to hit below the belt. “I did save your life, after all.”

“I knew that was coming.” He grunted as he stood. “I could see it from a mile away.”

“Should we do it in here?”

“Words I never thought I would hear from you.” He laughed at my sour expression. “And no. Not here. I don’t want my things destroyed when your man realizes who’s helping you act a fool.”

“Then where?” I shifted my weight. “The others will be awake soon.”

Kierce didn’t really sleep to start with, so he was more likely to rise early and investigate my absence.

“Let’s go down to the crypt.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your mechanics are the only spirits in residence, so we can ask whichever one to vacate the room then set a circle to keep out distractions.”

There were additional protections on the crypt for souls who came for a visit, which would have been an added benefit if I hadn’t intended to fling myself out of my body toward a surly god and hope for the best.

Out in the hall, we both froze as metal springs creaked in the direction of Josie’s room.

“Just rolling over,” I whispered a moment later.

A scuffing noise, the thump of a boot on old planks, carried across the hall from the other direction.

“Jean-Claude,” he whispered back, “pacing in Mamaw’s room.”

All familiar, usually comforting sounds

Exchanging nods, we crept toward the elevator.

We eased in, and he mashed the button for downstairs while I crossed my fingers we didn’t get caught.

I expelled a slow breath once we hit bottom and stepped out into the garage.

Our arrival alerted Pedro to our presence, and he glided out of the crypt with a smile for me.

Until he noticed Rollo.

“What’s wrong?” He drifted over to stand in front of me. “Mija?”

“I have to astral project, and I can’t tell the others that’s what I’m doing, so I need a space where no one can interrupt.” I put on my best wheedling voice. “Keep an eye out for me?”

“Are you sure Josie shouldn’t know?” He set his fists on his hips. “Or Kierce?”

“Kierce can’t be a part of this. It wouldn’t end well for him. And it’s best if I tell Josie after.”

Otherwise, she would raise holy hell to keep me here out of fear of losing another sibling.

“I trust you.” He let his gaze linger on Rollo. “You’re sure you want him to help you?”

“She’s the best chance I have at getting Mamaw back. She’s in safe hands with me. I swear it.”

That appeared to mollify Pedro, slightly, but he still wasn’t happy. “Be quick and be safe.”

“I will.” I gave him enough substance I could buss his cheek. “I’ll be in and out in under fifteen minutes.”

Most everything was digital these days, so I worried there would be no handy printed bills or contracts from publishers lying out in the open for me to peruse. He must have a paper trail, right? He was playing human while he wrote his cat mystery books, and life wasn’t cheap.

Oh.

That reminded me. I might get lucky with a pill bottle for Buttons, his cat. A pet that spoiled would have boxes of preventative medication somewhere. All I needed was one label turned out where I could read it. Find that, and I could zing back here before anyone was the wiser.

If they got impatient, at least Pedro could tell the others I was in the crypt with Rollo and that I was safe. More details than that would be too risky. Mention astral projection, and Kierce would piece it together in seconds. I couldn’t afford for him to cut me off or ring the alarm bell for Dis Pater.

Thinking of him as a potential threat hurt my chest. Potential concern was only slightly easier to swallow.

“We need to get started,” Rollo snapped out, jarring me out of my thoughts.

Working together, a minor miracle, we cleansed the space of the residual energies that tended to cling where spirits lingered and then set a modified circle to prevent anyone from coming in while allowing my astral self to leave.

Then all that was left was to lie down on the marble slab and hope for the best.

“Give me your hand.” Rollo waited a beat then grabbed it. “If you can’t trust me, this won’t work.”

Knowing he was right, I mumbled an apology and suppressed a flinch when he linked our fingers.

“This is how we do things in this house.” His grip was dry, warm, and firm. “I’ve got you, Frankie.”

Hearing him call me by name was rare enough it snapped my attention back to the task at hand.

“I’m going to guide you. I’m going to anchor you. And, when this is over, I’m going to bring you home.”

“Thank you.” I squeezed his fingers. “I mean it.”

“Don’t go getting sentimental on me.” He faked a shudder. “It weirds me out.”

“Understood.” I shut my eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Ready when you are.”

“Clear your mind.” He modulated his tone to a soothing bass rumble. “Focus on the path you wish to travel.” His voice dropped lower. “Picture your destination.” His words rasped through my ears. “How does it smell? What can you hear? How does it taste? What do you see?”

The questions lodged in my brain, forcing me to recall the small details of Dis Pater’s home.

Crashing waves. Sparkling waters. Seagulls calling. Rock-strewn shorelines.

No.

Those were stolen impressions, glimpsed through a window. Deeper. I had to go deeper.

The smell of leather and books. A tidy office. The laptop Dis Pater was forever typing away on.

Those were my strongest associations with him, and I drilled down into them.

Chapter headings on his laptop screen. Cat hair drifting like motes past a sunny window. A briny scent, or was it a taste? Hard to tell if I was smelling seafood in his kitchen or the sea itself without my full senses. I saw well enough and heard clearly, but the rest was a bit foggy without my body to filter input.

“Let go. Just let go. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Across an expanding distance, I heard Rollo and allowed myself to take comfort in his presence.

A tug behind my navel jerked me hurtling through the worn path I had traveled so often with Kierce by my side. I popped in where I always appeared, stuck to the ceiling in Dis Pater’s office. His empty office.

Thank God, Dis Pater wasn’t hunched over his laptop for a change. That didn’t mean he wasn’t in the house. I couldn’t let my guard down yet. He might sense me inside his wards, even if he couldn’t prevent me from crossing them. I had to snoop fast.

Using all I had learned during my frequent trips to the Alcheyvāhā burial ground, where I first met Anunit, I drifted lower until my insubstantial feet touched the floor. That step was unnecessary, but it did help me feel grounded in the space.

After checking behind me, I rushed to the desk and skimmed the papers littering the surface. Most of those pages were notes on the plot of his next book. Even the frequent sticky notes were nothing but character descriptions and underlined reminders on the colors of everyone’s eyes.

Useless.

The laptop was asleep, but it wasn’t like I could wake it to ferret out his online accounts anyway. None of the drawers had been left cracked open. The one letter that might have been a bill was flipped over, and the torn flap didn’t tell me anything.

A pit stop at the window showed me waves, sand, and a killer sunset. No handy landmarks there.

This was getting me nowhere fast.

Right.

Time to brave the rest of the house.

Slowly sticking my head around the corner, I checked for signs of life. I strained my ears, but the crash of the sea was the only noise. The house was empty. Probably. I hoped so.

As I sneaked into a short hall, I spied the living room and the kitchen to my right. A closed door sat at the end of the hall on my left. I figured my chances were better in the kitchen, where the detritus of life tended to pile high on the counters.

Especially if, like in this house, there was a back door with a small table and a bowl for keys and change. There must be a garage or carport out there.

“Meow.”

Squeaking, certain I had been caught, that Dis Pater was going to barbecue me again, I shot into the attic with a burst of supernatural speed.

“Meow.”

The plaintive cry was muffled through the ceiling, but it yanked me out of my panic.

A few gulps and a pep talk later, I sank into the kitchen to stand before Buttons.

“You scared ten years off my life.” I crouched down and smiled at him. “Do you know your address?”

“Mrrppfft.”

“Yeah.” I rose with a sigh. “That’s what I figured.”

A car door slammed as I ventured into the living room, and I scrunched up my face, concentrating on the feel of Rollo’s hand covering mine. I needed to get out of here before Dis Pater walked through the door and caught me creeping around his house.

“I want her dead.”

Then again, maybe I would stick around long enough to figure out if Dis Pater—and that was definitely his voice—meant little ol’ me.

“He will end you if you harm her,” a smoky voice answered, and chills broke down my arms.

“He doesn’t know who he is, let alone who she is. Neither of them have a clue. It’s fine.”

He as in Kierce ? Did that mean she as in me ?

“Anunit claimed her,” the smoky voice countered, his tone hardening. “She must suspect.”

That she was definitely Anunit. Me? I suspected nothing.

“Anunit is smart enough to know none of her kind survived. Whether she wants to admit it to herself or not, there’s no blood between them.”

That should come as a relief, right? That she and I weren’t relatives. But she had looked so hopeful…

“But there is bone.”

Bone? As in the toe Anunit chomped off as part of our exchange? That bone?

“And whose bright idea was that?” Dis Pater exhaled a growl. “This experiment of yours has gotten out of hand.”

Experiment? Me? I swallowed hard. That couldn’t be good.

“You knew the risks.”

“And I took every precaution,” he seethed at his companion. “I encased their memories in god glass. Any mention of their pasts, of their identities, slides off. Nothing they learn about themselves will stick. I could whisper his name in her ear, and she wouldn’t so much as blink. An hour later, it would be too slippery for her to recall, and the day after she wouldn’t remember ever hearing it.”

“Let us hope your confidence won’t be our undoing.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Dis Pater snarled, stomping closer to the door. “Get back here.”

Silence cut like a knife as we both waited for the smoky voice to reply.

But he was gone.

And two seconds later, as the doorknob turned, so was I.