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V ionette Fontenot lived in a two-story townhouse on Chartres Street. It was painted a rich eggplant with black trim that matched the elegant wrought iron decorating the gallery upstairs overlooking the French Quarter. Beneath a dozen stained glass art panels some folks had the gall to simply call windows , curling planters overflowed with herbs and edible flowers that were in bloom. Strange ivylike vines grew from cracks in the sidewalk to climb the walls, their leaves purple and their spikes tipped crimson.

“I always wondered who lived here.” Pascal leaned over the front bench seat, right between Kierce and me, to gawk up at the house. “It’s got such…vibes.”

There was a tangible weight to the air in New Orleans, and I don’t just mean its oppressive humidity.

History. Tragedy. Hope.

Love. Sorrow. Hate.

Spirits walked these streets alongside the living. They laughed, sang, joked, made love, threw punches, the same as the rest of us, refusing to let a little thing like death slow down their good time. I admired that. I envied it too. Visiting New Orleans felt like coming home.

Almost.

Without Vi, her bright laugh and warm hugs, it just wasn’t the same.

“We’ll find answers for them.” Kierce brought my hand to his lips for a kiss. “I promise.”

“I’m glad you’re here with me.” I drew in a slow breath. “I’m not sure I could do it without you.”

“You have me, so you’d be fine.” Josie patted the top of my head. “But a death god sidekick is cool too.”

A soft laugh from Kierce huffed across my knuckles, reminding me I hadn’t asked her about Carter. “Does your roomie know you’re in NOLA?”

“I’m not her girlfriend.” She pushed out her bottom lip. “I don’t need her permission to live my life.”

Based on the cadence of that speech, I got the sense those were direct quotes from a conversation with Carter. Probably a recent one. Which explained the mocking tone.

“Ah.”

As much as it stung Josie’s pride, Carter had been upfront from the start about her stance on relationships. Josie was just too stubborn to believe she couldn’t sway her. Unable to help ease that self-inflicted wound, I turned tour guide for Pascal.

“The house has been in the Fontenot family for over a century.” I reclaimed my hand from Kierce to cut the wheel. “Wait until you see inside.”

Faux doorways and false windows lined the exterior at street level, blending in with the other residences in the area. But one set of double doors in particular always garnered dropped jaws anytime they swung open in front of passersby, and tonight was no different as I rolled the wagon over the sidewalk and drove into a massive space that was part garage and part crypt, part supply room and part chapel.

There were other areas, private areas, that only Fontenot family members were allowed to make use of. That included me, much to Rollo’s chagrin, but I was oath sworn to keep their secrets. They were as safe with me as mine were with them.

“Anyone got a napkin or a roll of paper towels?” Josie wrinkled her nose. “Pascal is drooling over Vi’s collection.”

Hearses. Each one more unique than the last. A few of them worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Most had been used for their intended purpose by the original Fontenots who settled New Orleans back in 1718. Given the myriad ways the land tried its best to kill off those attempting to tame it, they had the right idea in embracing death as the family business when it had been so much a part of daily life.

“I know I died, but is this heaven?” Pascal sat back and pressed his face to his window, his breath fogging the glass. “Hello, babies. Daddy’s home.”

“Eww.” Josie inched as far away from him as she could get. “You had to go and make it weird.”

Nostalgia swirled through me as I pulled into my usual parking space, and I wished I had come sooner.

No one should wait until catastrophe struck, until their life was upended, until it was just plain too late, to spend time with the ones they love. I had called, texted, video chatted—even astrally projected—with Vi. But it wasn’t the same as driving to her home, embracing her, and proving I cared enough to show up for her. I had failed her, and I wasn’t proud of it, but I would do better if…

No.

I wasn’t giving up on Matty or Vi. They would both be fine. I wouldn’t allow them any other choice.

“Will Rollo meet us here or upstairs?” Kierce examined the space through the windshield. “He knows we arrived, if he’s home. I felt us pass over the ward on the way in.”

“I’m not really a guest, more of a nuisance, in his mind anyway. He’ll expect me to let myself in.”

“I haven’t spent much time with him, but I don’t like Rollo much.”

“Trust me when I say that more time will only make you like him even less.”

His low chuckle gave me the push I needed to get out and face what lay ahead.

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.”

“I want to understand too.” I wedged myself between them. “What was that all about?”

“Never you mind.” Jean-Claude booped the end of my nose. “Come on and see Vi.”

Had he rushed me to her bedside, I would have felt better about my chance of success. That he lingered to chat told me he wasn’t holding on to much hope of curing his longtime patient and friend. But his realm was healing the living, and mine was raising the dead. It seemed to me Vi and Matty were stuck between. With each of us working from the opposite end of the spectrum, I hoped we could meet in the middle faster.

Down a long hall painted in the dark greens of a nighttime forest, he led me to the master suite. The bed dominated the center of the room, an antique larger than a sedan. Head on her pillow, Vi rested under a lush velvet quilt. Her chest rose and fell, and her eyes flicked back and forth behind her lids. I crossed to her, caught her wrist in my hand, and tested her pulse. Slow but steady. She could have been sleeping.

Leaning down, I rested my palm against her forehead and shut my eyes to search for a spark within her.

“She’s not there,” I murmured, as if I hadn’t believed it until witnessing it for myself.

“I told you that much,” Rollo grumbled from the doorway without so much as a hello . “I wouldn’t have come for you otherwise.”

Since we left at the end of the workday, it must be nearly three o’clock in the morning. That gave us maybe three hours before dawn forced the spirits into their graves for the day. Not much time, but I was wired and so was everyone else. No one was going to sleep anytime soon, so we might as well be productive. “Who wants to get a start on canvassing the city?”

“Pascal and I will take Bourbon Street and fan out from there,” Josie volunteered. “That okay with you?”

“Sure.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “Just stick together, okay?”

Without the ability to see spirits, Josie was limited in what she could do to help. Matty’s soul could stand in front of her face and yell, and she would be none the wiser. She could, however, protect his body. The promise of her watching over him while Pascal scanned the sweat-drenched clubs and smoke-filled bars for errant spirits made it easier to let them out of my sight.

“I’ll go with them.” Pedro stared down his brother. “Keep them out of trouble.”

With those two, that was a big promise to make, but I was certain he was up to the task.

“Kierce and I will begin here on Chartres.” I doubted we’d get lucky enough to stumble across the missing souls right outside Vi’s door, but we had to start somewhere. “We’ll work outward as far as we can before sunrise.”

“Good luck with that,” Rollo told us then strolled down the hall, returning to his office.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Jean-Claude confided after the door shut behind Rollo, and the antique lock snicked like Rollo didn’t trust me near his things. “Poor boy is exhausted down to his bones.”

Yeah, well, that made two of us.

“He’s already been out tonight,” Jean-Claude continued on. “He got in just before you.”

“Okay, okay.” I kissed his cheek. “I’ll cut him some slack.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

As the remaining four of us shuffled into the hall, Jean-Claude sank into a chair beside Vi’s bed.

Badb, for her own reasons, elected to stay behind with him. Probably because he had made the mistake of complimenting her. Before he knew it, she would have him wrapped around her claw and her claws wrapped around one of the cookies on the tray next to him.

The ride down in the elevator was cramped, and our groups began to scatter after hitting the sidewalk outside. Until a breeze sent a vine tickling the side of my arm, and an idea blossomed. “Josie.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she slowed her walk. “Hmm?”

“Can you ask around, see if the plants know anything?”

“I can try, but plants are very self-involved. They’re more likely to tell me if there’s a cursed patch of soil causing root rot than anything Matty specific.” She marshaled a smile. “I’ll do my best, though.”

Armed with fresh purpose, Josie marched off in one direction, and we took the other.

Three blocks later, I decided Kierce had brooded long enough and interrupted the silence. “What’s on your mind?”

Ever since Rollo materialized in his living room, Kierce had been oddly quiet. I wasn’t sure if it boiled down to him not liking Rollo, which, okay, same. Or if there was something else weighing on his mind.

“Many things.” He attempted a smile but didn’t quite manage. “Do you think we’ll find Matty like this?”

“I’m not sure.” Sometimes there was no substitution for boots on the ground when you had to locate someone—or someones. “Do you have any better ideas?” I smacked myself in the forehead. Maybe I was more tired than I thought. My brain-to-mouth filter was clearly malfunctioning. “I didn’t intend for that to come out snarky. I really meant it. Is there a smarter way to go about this?”

“You were right to want to sweep the streets, but you might have had more luck with Josie. Spirits aren’t forthcoming with me. They often hide in my presence. Especially those here. They know me too well.”

Until his voice washed over me, I hadn’t acknowledged the anxiety plaguing me in his silence.

After my fallout with Dis Pater over the Alcheyvāhā guardianship, I kept expecting the other steel-toed boot to drop. That Dis Pater would put his foot down, forbidding Kierce to see me. Or that Kierce would decide I was too much risk with too little reward. Or that we would find ourselves at cross purposes and have no choice but to end things ourselves. I had loyalties now, to the Alcheyvāhā, and I bet his god was only the first of many who would take exception with Anunit passing her mantle on to me. But, if he had been allocating resources to protecting their burial grounds all these years, shouldn’t he be happy that it fell to me and not him? I had scraped a big-ticket item off his plate. Honestly, he should be thanking me.

“That’s why you’ve been quiet.” I made a thoughtful sound. “You’re worried you shouldn’t have come.”

“Yes,” he exhaled, relief coating the word. “I want to help, but I’m not sure that I can.”

Just being here was helping me more than he could know, but I sensed he wanted a different answer. As good as my rapport with spirits tended to be, he was right that he repelled them. I had built my business around supplying customer service for the dead, but Kierce had been too isolated to be easy around new people. Even dead ones.

“We’ll see how it goes, okay? We can always switch partners until we find the best fit.”

“All right.” He rolled his shoulders, standing taller when he was done. “I like that idea.”

Hand in hand, we cleared four streets, but we didn’t spot Matty or Vi or any spirit who had seen them, and I still couldn’t shake the dread whispering in the back of my mind that the worst was yet to come.