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A rosy blush edged the sky overhead, golden sunlight piercing the clouds as I fished out my old brass key to let Kierce and me into Vi’s house through the much less conspicuous side door leading into the garage at street level. The elevator rattled and thumped, and then we were stepping into the living room.

A quick shake of Jean-Claude’s head when I asked him confirmed that no one else had made it back yet. Kierce and I were the first. And if Kierce minded that Badb was cuddled in a nest of blankets while Jean-Claude read to her and Vi from a book on mythology, he didn’t mention it.

“Let’s have a seat.” Kierce guided me down on the couch next to him. “The others will return soon.”

Aware I was being handled, I didn’t mind this time. I sank beside him, cuddled into his side, and drew my feet onto the cushion with me. And as the sun cut through the blinds, I closed my eyes to savor the dark for a little longer.

No sooner had my eyes shut than a paper plate stacked high with beignets was thrust beneath my nose. I breathed in, and my exhale sent powdered sugar blowing onto the quilt someone had bundled me in. Coffee, rich with the scent of chicory, came next. Then Jean-Claude’s face swam into focus.

“Well look at that.” He flashed his white teeth. “You are alive.”

A quick check of the ancient cuckoo clock on the wall told me I had slept from sunup to sundown.

The lingering withdrawals of imbibing myself with grave-dirt uppers were proving brutal.

“The jury’s still out,” I mumbled, accepting his offerings with gratitude.

“Your man here wasn’t much interested,” Jean-Claude said, sniffing, “but lovely Badb ate his portion.”

Yeah. I could tell. Her head was as white as if she had dunked it into a bag of flour.

“I did apologize.” Kierce wiped at her dusty feathers. “I meant no offense.”

“Kierce is on a special diet.” I noticed then I had fallen asleep on his shoulder and been left there all day. I didn’t mind that. Not one bit. “I should have told you before you went to so much trouble.”

“Bah.” He waved away my words. “I was over on Decatur Street anyway.”

Which meant Rollo had remained home to watch over Vi while Jean-Claude made rounds to see his other patients.

“Mmm.” I took a bite of rich, fluffy dough and moaned softly. “Why are these always so good?”

Beignets were squares of fried dough topped with powdered sugar, similar to a donut but not as dense, and I could have eaten my weight in them.

“Once on the lips,” Rollo said from his side of the hall, his room opposite Vi’s, “forever on the hips.”

“That explains it.” Josie tripped him, and when he fell, she stared at his butt for a good long while. “How many do you eat for breakfast to build a cushion like that? You must have been working on it for years .”

A flush pinkened his dark skin as he shot to his feet, and he smoothed a hand over his flat stomach as if reassuring himself the hours he must spend in the gym to be so fit hadn’t vanished with a single insult.

“Knock it off, Rollo.” Jean-Claude pinched Josie’s cheek as if she weren’t just as guilty of slinging insults. “The Talbots are Vi’s guests, and we don’t insult guests.” He cut Rollo with a glare. “And you know damn well it took me months to fill out that girl. She was skin and bones when she got here. Now look at her.”

About to crack wise again, Rollo thought better of it when Josie raised her eyebrows in a silent dare as one of the thorn-wrapped vines growing on the house tapped on the window over her shoulder.

“I could kill him for you.” Kierce stroked his hand down my arm. “I don’t mind.”

The offer, made with such sincerity, caused my breakfast to shoot down the wrong pipe.

“The hell?” Rollo whipped his head back. “You threatening me in my own home?”

A flat stare from Kierce convinced Rollo to ease back, though he tried to play off the retreat as his intention from the start.

“No.” I coughed into my fist, swallowing past the doughy lump in my throat. “That’s not necessary.”

“Hmm.”

Over the rim of my to-go cup, I studied his profile, and any hope he was joking evaporated on the spot. I had noticed Kierce slowly shedding the brittle facade of humanity concealing his rough edges when we first met. I would have to be blind not to see he was changing. Rapidly. But this possessive streak kept widening. And as it grew, so did that sharp edge of certainty that promised he would follow through with any threats he made.

The dorky taphophile I met at Bonaventure was morphing into the embodiment of his title.

The Viduus.

I would be lying if part of me didn’t enjoy it. A big part. I would also be lying if I said it didn’t worry me.

At the rate we were going, I wasn’t sure how much Kierce would be left when all was said and done.

“You can’t go around killing everyone who insults Frankie,” Josie protested. “You can’t hog all the fun.”

A huff of laughter broke the tension in Kierce, allowing me to relax against him again.

Metal squeaked behind us as the elevator doors rolled open, and Pascal swaggered in wearing Matty.

I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe I remembered overhearing them decide to share a room when they walked in after their patrol. Space was at a premium with so many overnight guests in residence, so it made sense, but he had come from the garage.

“Francita.” He tapped the side of his mouth. “You’ve got a little drool crust right there.”

“With that sugar on her face,” Jean-Claude teased, “it’s going to stick like cement without a wet rag.”

“You couldn’t have told me sooner?” I aimed the question at Josie while wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, but she was too busy enjoying her stare off with Rollo to respond. “Where’s Pedro?”

“Waiting for us in the crypt.” Pascal clapped his hands. “Everybody ready?”

The reminder of what brought us here was enough to sober us again.

And by us , I mean everyone except for Pascal, who was primed to cash in on my promise of the deceased Fontenots showing him a good time on the town while Pedro was on Matty duty.

Before we went our separate ways, we each took turns sharing updates from the night before, but none of us had discovered anything promising.

The plan was to split into teams and canvass the Quarter, questioning spirits and those who saw them, to determine how widespread the affliction was across the city. And, if we were lucky, locate someone who had noticed any odd concentrations of spiritual activity. So, pretty much the same plan we had last night. But the earlier we began, the wider we could cast our nets before dawn.

“Rollo, can you show Pascal to the Fontenot mausoleum on your way to Jackson Square?”

“Might as well.” Lips thinning, he checked his smartwatch. “I’m heading that direction anyhow.”

Once we hit the garage level, Rollo peeled away from the group and aimed for the exit.

“Wait up, Rollo.” Josie made it plain she didn’t trust him not to ditch Pascal. “I’ll wait outside with you.”

“Hey.” I snapped my fingers to get her attention. “Any luck on the plant front?”

Hand to Rollo’s back, she shoved him ahead of her. “Nothing yet, but I’ll keep trying.”

As a peaceful quiet settled around us, I noticed we were missing someone. “Where’s Badb?”

“Scouting the city.” Kierce hung back to give Pascal and me more space to enter the narrow chamber. The walkway was maybe three feet wide with marble slabs recessed into the walls another two feet to either side and across the back. “She’ll meet up with us outside.”

Pedro stood from where he had been sitting when he noticed us, and Pascal took his place, climbing into the nook and lying down on the slab. As soon as he was settled, I rested my palm on his warm forehead, releasing his soul from Matty’s body in a wisp of blue light.

As soon as Pedro gained his sea legs inside Matty, we exited the crypt, Pascal jittering with excitement.

We handed him off to Rollo outside, waited until Josie and Pedro ordered a Swyft to Magazine Street, then started walking.

Noting our direction, Kierce asked, “Where are we going?”

“Before we hit the cemeteries, I want to check out Bad Beats. It’s a para-owned bar on Frenchman.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“The bartender is known for selling information to the right person for the right price. He’s not a nice guy. I guess he can’t afford to be in his line of work, but he still gives me the creeps.”

A static crackle moved through him, but he doused his reaction. “How did you two meet?”

“Through Vi. She uses him to keep tabs on persons of interest from time to time. His intel is good. He doesn’t lie or cheat. But he’s not someone I would want to meet in a dark alley after a few hurricanes. I’ve never approached him on my own. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”

Part of my education included how to seek out and vet people like Pierre, and also how to survive them. I had put those skills to use establishing a few sources in the Savannah area, but no one in his league.

“I’ll be right here.” Kierce threaded his fingers through mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Uncertain I would have risked this trip solo, I squeezed his hand, grateful for the support. “I’m counting on it.”

The hour was early enough we had no trouble finding spots at the bar, but the bartender I had hoped to see was nowhere in sight.

While we waited, I ordered a black and bleu burger with garlic parm fries for myself. Kierce opted for the Ethel burger, rare, with a side of plain fries he intended to hand off to Badb later. We kept an ear out for any gossip about roving spirits or soulless bodies while we ate, but I didn’t hear anything promising.

A half hour later, a lanky man with sunken cheeks and greasy hair strolled out of the back room with an upbeat gait and a wild grin carving his bloodless mouth as if the world was his oyster and he had just pried a gleaming pearl from its softness.

Pierre D'Aboville. Bartender. Information broker. Man in need of a bath.

“Frankie Talbot.” He noticed me the second he reached the register. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, that happens when you move out of state.”

Drawing a circle in the air above his head, he grinned. “Looks like you got a promotion.”

Given his line of work, I wasn’t surprised he saw the dark corona I wore.

Folks who used runners like the Buckley Boys to gather intel for their clients tended to perceive more than just the spirits in their employ. “Something like that.”

As his interest flitted away from me, his eyes gleaming as they landed on Kierce, I knew this had been a mistake. Nothing that lit up Pierre could mean anything good for us. I had let our past interactions color my perception of him, but I had failed to grasp how tight a leash Vi must have kept on him when I paid visits.

Eager for what he could tell us, what information he would sell us, I hadn’t considered that any news gleaned from our conversation might go on the auction block next.

“The Viduus.” Pierre laughed out loud. “As I live and breathe.”

Angling his head in a crowlike tilt, Kierce studied Pierre. “Have we met?”

“I’m hurt you don’t remember, but I’m sure there are plenty of things you don’t recall anymore.” He rubbed a finger alongside his nose. “I could remind you, for a price.”

Oh, yeah. This had been a mistake. I shouldn’t have brought Kierce. I should have approached Pierre as an old friend with a few questions to ask the right person and not tipped my hand.

“Not interested,” Kierce said a beat too late to sound genuine.

“I can’t say I blame you.” Pierre grinned at me. “I’d want to hold on to her for as long as I could too.”

Cold prickles skated down my spine as his tongue swiped over his lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Other than he was a pervert. Ick. I really wish I had Vi with me right about now.

“What will you give me to tell you?” His smile bared crumbling black teeth. “I’ll tell you all the reasons why you’re making a huge mistake. Again. History does like to repeat.”

Baiting me. He was baiting me. I knew it. I was aware of it. But I couldn’t stop myself from pushing him.

The taunt struck too close to home. It was too similar to the insidious whispers from Ankou claiming Kierce was lying to me, that I was a fool to trust him, but Kierce hadn’t given me any reason to doubt him. Unlike Ankou, who had fabricated an entire persona to infiltrate my life.

“What history?” I gripped the edge of the counter. “What do you mean repeat?”

“How much is the truth worth to you?” He glanced between us. “Either of you can pick up the tab.”

A warm hand landed on my arm, a reminder from Kierce of why we had come.

“Noticed any unusual spiritual activity?” I kept my tone civil. “That’s what we’ll purchase. Nothing else.”

“This is New Orleans.” He planted his forearms on the bar top and stared at me like a wolf about to snap its jaws shut over a juicy rabbit. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“This is New Orleans,” I agreed with him, “but Vi told me once that you’ve lived here since the first brick was laid. That’s why you and your spirits, more than anyone else, would know if there was a new threat in town and where I can find it.”

“Threat isn’t the right word.” He switched his focus back to me. “But there is a new peculiarity.”

Curling my fingers in my lap until they went numb, I held myself back. “What do you want in exchange?”

“I owe Vi a good turn.” He lowered his voice to a bare rumble. “Tell her to square up with me after she is in better spirits —” he placed a hard emphasis on the last word, “—and I’ll give you what you need to get started.” He eyed me up and down. “Can you still bargain on her behalf?”

For him to offer, she must have something he wanted, and I had presented him with a way to get it.

“You know I can.” I chewed my bottom lip, debating if I should write a blank check in her name, aware it was a risk. But without his help, there would be no Vi to pay the debt. “You have my word she will honor the bargain we make tonight.”

The knife he pulled from his pants was rusted and coated in gunk I didn’t want to think too hard about, but I didn’t stop him when he slid it across his palm and then mine, clasping hands with me to seal the deal. Though I might have thrown up a little in my mouth.

“Go to Ursulines Avenue,” he said, licking the blade, “and give it a minute.”

“That’s it?” I didn’t fuss when Kierce poured his glass of water over my cut then blotted it with a stack of thin paper napkins left over from our meal. “That’s all I bought us?”

Kierce’s lips brushed my temple, a reassurance I needed, badly, and I managed not to snarl at Pierre.

Pretty sure that was Anunit’s influence. Or Josie’s. My sister was downright feral for a dryad.

Smiling to himself, Pierre went about slicing enough limes to get through his shift. With the same crusty blade. And…yeah. That was the last meal I was eating here. I just hoped I could keep it down. At least long enough to get outside.

Without missing a beat, Kierce flung cash on the counter for our meal, helped me off my stool, and guided me out the door before I could circle back and increase my debt out of desperation.

As soon as we hit the sidewalk, I texted Josie with an update and instructions on where to meet us.

Without knowing what we were walking into, I couldn’t decide if it was a waste of time bringing her and Pedro in, but she would want to be there if we had even a slim hope of putting eyes on Matty tonight.

We strolled to the end of Frenchmen before I opened the Swyft app on my phone and booked us a ride.

“I don’t like that he knows me.” Kierce answered the question I hadn’t drummed up the courage to ask. “I don’t like that I can’t remember why our paths crossed or when.”

I couldn’t imagine any history between them would be the good variety. To add insult to injury, Pierre just had to throw the gaps in his memory in his face. Our faces, really.

“You must have been on an assignment from Dis Pater when you met him.” I set my palm on his chest. “That’s also probably why you don’t remember. His handling of the Alcheyvāhā showed me he has no problem suppressing any pesky memories that might get in the way of you doing as you’re told.”

Did Kierce and I share some unknown history? Could Dis Pater have erased his and my memories of it? There was no doubt in my mind it was possible, but I decided it was unlikely.

Erasure on that scale would create a massive ripple effect. To get away with revising my recollections, he would have had to tamper with Matty and Josie too. And even then, the Suarezes, who were immune to such things, would have told us if we lost a chunk of time.

No.

Pierre was baiting us, hoping Kierce or I were desperate enough to bite.

“I wouldn’t know they existed now if not for you. He would have taken that knowledge from me. Again.” His hands clenched at his sides as rare anger washed over him. “What else have I done? Who else have I harmed? How can you ever trust me when I can’t trust myself?”

“Don’t let him get in your head.” I curled my fingers into his shirt. “Do that, and he wins.”

“How can you just accept it?” His haunted gaze lingered on my lips. “Accept me?”

“I don’t need to know who you were to know who you are.” I willed him to believe me. “I didn’t expect a Viduus to be some paragon of virtue. How could you be? I may not have all the information, but that’s okay. Until you do something that proves otherwise, I’m going to trust my gut, and you can’t stop me.”

“Frankie…”

“Nope.” I yanked him a step forward. “You’re not talking me into giving you up on the say-so of a guy who hasn’t used a bar of soap since Prohibition. And you’re not going to bargain with him to find out whatever he claims to know about you either. There are other ways to unravel your past, and I’ll help if that’s what you want, but not like this.”

“Thank you.” He slid his arms around me and held on like he was afraid of letting go. “Just…thank you.”

How could I give up on him when it was clear everyone else already had? His withdrawal from our world had been motivated by exhaustion from his role, but how much of that was linked to his inability to form lasting bonds because of his duties? Because he knew Dis Pater could command him to end any relationship that detracted from fulfilling his god’s will with a snap of his fingers?

How long would I have lasted without the Marys? Not long. For some reason, most people tended to find necromancers creepy or strange. That was why those who dwelled among the dead tended to bury their social lives. Poor Kierce’s had been DOA when we met, and mine had been on life support. Outside of my family, I wasn’t Little Miss Popular either.

Headlights glided over us, and we piled into a mud-splattered sedan for the trip over to Ursulines.

And if Kierce’s fears gave mine fodder, I did my best to hide those corkscrew thoughts from him.