Page 18 of Curse in the Quarter (Bourbon Street Shadows #1)
“Ritual interruption. Outside interference that corrupted her carefully prepared working.” The vampire’s gaze shifted to Bastien with calculating intensity. “Though I suspect you possess more detailed knowledge than official records contain.”
“There’s more,” Bastien said. “The markings respond to proximity with specific individuals. When certain people approach victims, the glyphs stabilize. Contamination stops spreading, fever breaks, consciousness transfer slows.”
Valentin leaned forward with predatory interest. “What individuals produce this effect?”
“Charlotte’s bloodline descendants. People carrying her genetic and spiritual inheritance.” Bastien met pale eyes directly. “The same bloodline serving as ritual anchor for the expanding network.”
Understanding crashed across vampire features. “Someone in Charlotte’s family controls the manifestations. Their presence either accelerates contamination or provides relief, depending on conscious intention.”
“Which means victims aren’t just being conscripted—they’re being prepared to serve specific functions in relation to her modern incarnation.”
They returned to Camille’s isolation ward to find her conscious, speaking with Detective Novak in Charlotte’s voice about historical events no living person should remember. Valentin’s expression darkened at this blatant violation of supernatural secrecy.
“We need to continue this conversation elsewhere,” he said quietly to Bastien. “Away from mortal ears.”
But before they could withdraw, Camille’s attention fixed on Valentin with recognition spanning lifetimes.
“Monsieur Rousseau. You haven’t aged since we discussed consciousness preservation across temporal boundaries.”
The vampire went motionless, his nature recognizing violation of cosmic order. Detective Novak stared between them with growing alarm, while the attending physician backed toward the door with instincts screaming warnings about predators in human form.
“Troubling,” Valentin said quietly, his voice carrying compulsion that would cloud mortal memories of what they’d witnessed. “If these manifestations represent genuine historical consciousness rather than mystical contamination . . .”
“Then Charlotte’s soul-binding worked,” Bastien finished. “Her essence survived death and has been waiting for proper conditions to resume experiments.”
“Using modern victims as vessels for ancient purposes. Creating networks of souls bound to serve agendas they never chose.” Valentin’s expression darkened. “This could destabilize every supernatural treaty in North America.”
Camille laughed with cruel amusement that wasn’t related to her original personality at all. “Such clever analysis. Yes, we serve purposes beyond our choosing. But you misunderstand what Charlotte began.”
She sat up despite restraints, moving with supernatural fluidity. Soul burn glyphs flared brighter, casting shadows at impossible angles.
“These markings don’t just preserve consciousness or transfer essence.
They create permanent bonds between souls, connections transcending death and fundamental existence laws.
” Her voice gained harmonics that made walls vibrate.
“Every marked person becomes part of an eternal network, individual identity subsumed into collective purpose.”
“What purpose?” Bastien demanded.
“Evolution beyond mortal limitations. Transformation into entities existing independent of physical form, accumulating power across infinite lifetimes.” Silver light blazed in Camille’s eyes.
“What your Charlotte sought to preserve through love, we achieve through systematic restructuring of human consciousness.”
The revelation struck like arctic water. This wasn’t about Charlotte’s preservation experiments or even corrupted soul-binding. Someone had transformed her work into blueprints for fundamental alteration of human nature.
“Who’s ‘we’?” Valentin asked, detecting threats beyond normal supernatural politics .
“Entities maintaining proper cosmic hierarchy order. Beings understanding that consciousness developing beyond designated parameters becomes dangerous to universal stability.” Camille’s smile revealed teeth filed to inhuman points.
“Charlotte’s work represented chaos, uncontrolled evolution.
We have corrected her methodology for appropriate purposes. ”
“Collectors,” Bastien said.
“Among others. The universe contains many entities harvesting souls grown too powerful for designated cosmic positions. Very efficient work. Very thorough solutions.”
Valentin stepped back, ancient instincts recognizing authority operating beyond vampiric comprehension. “These entities are creating what, exactly?”
“A test case. Proof that human consciousness can be systematically harvested and redistributed according to cosmic design. If successful, methodology will be applied to larger populations.” Camille’s expression grew distant.
“Starting with supernatural communities whose power already places them outside normal mortal limitations.”
Wholesale restructuring of consciousness itself. The marked souls weren’t serving Charlotte’s original purposes—they were components in cosmic weapons designed to eliminate supernatural communities entirely.
“How many victims before critical mass?” Bastien asked.
“That depends on Charlotte’s modern incarnation accepting her role.
Her cooperation would accelerate timelines considerably.
” Camille tilted her head with predatory curiosity.
“She’s remarkable. Charlotte’s brilliance refined through multiple lifetimes.
When she joins willingly, transformation will be spectacular. ”
“If she refuses? ”
“We proceed slowly, marking subjects until the network encompasses sufficient consciousness to complete work without direct participation.” The entity consulted knowledge beyond mortal understanding. “At present transmission rates, perhaps two weeks.”
Two weeks for cosmic forces to harvest human consciousness throughout New Orleans, beginning with supernatural communities whose power made them valuable and threatening.
Unless Delphine joined willingly, accelerating the process but retaining some control.
Or unless someone severed the soul-binding chains before critical mass.
“Educational conversation,” Valentin said, vampiric authority making walls creak with supernatural pressure. “But enough for one evening.”
He moved with blurred speed, hand closing around Camille’s throat with pressure that could crush windpipe. Instead of violence, he exerted compulsion—will accumulated across centuries forcing the controlling entity into dormancy.
Camille collapsed against her pillow, silver light fading as original personality reasserted itself. Soul burn glyphs continued pulsing, but with less intensity, consciousness withdrawn to preserve energy.
“Temporary measure,” Valentin explained, fangs retracting. “Several hours’ relief while we determine responses.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. What we learned changes everything about how supernatural communities must respond.
” The vampire moved to windows overlooking a city where cosmic forces viewed souls as raw material.
“If entities with that authority are weaponizing soul-binding for consciousness harvesting, every supernatural being in North America faces potential extinction.”
“What will you tell your courts?”
“Truth. Ancient magic weaponized by cosmic authorities, human consciousness systematically harvested, communities facing extinction unless we disrupt the process.” Valentin’s reflection showed eyes burning with predatory determination.
“We’ll also discuss protective measures for Charlotte’s modern incarnation. ”
“Protective measures?”
“She’s key to everything—ritual anchor allowing network expansion, consciousness whose cooperation would accelerate timelines, individual whose choices determine whether this serves cosmic purposes or gets redirected toward beneficial outcomes.
” The vampire faced him directly. “If she learns to control her role rather than serving as unconscious focus, she might turn the network against those who created it.”
The possibility hung between them like hope wrapped in razor wire. Delphine could join willingly, accepting transformation beyond human limitations. Or fight for control of forces reshaping reality around her existence, potentially saving individual consciousness while risking cosmic retribution.
Either choice required understanding exactly what she was and what power flowed through her bloodline.
“I need to go to her.”
“Move carefully. Entities capable of corrupting soul-binding across centuries won’t remain passive if their test case encounters complications.”
The Lacroix family chapel in 1763, where Charlotte knelt before the altar making peace with whatever divine forces might witness her transformation.
She wore white silk that seemed to glow with inner light, her hair braided with flowers that would not wilt.
Morning light through stained glass painted her in colors that belonged to another world.
“Are you ready?” Bastien asked, his nature recognizing the magnitude of what she was attempting.
“I've been ready since the moment I understood that love this deep deserves to survive any boundary the universe might impose.” She rose with fluid grace, moving to where ritual implements waited on marble that had been consecrated for purposes their creators never imagined.
“Today we prove that some bonds are stronger than cosmic law.”
“And if we're wrong?”
“Then we fail magnificently, attempting something beautiful rather than accepting limitations imposed by forces that have never experienced what we share.” Her smile blazed with courage that could challenge heaven itself.
“You won't lose me, Bastien. Not to death, not to time, not to any authority that views our connection as inconvenient to their design.”
The absolute certainty in her voice, the love that would rewrite reality rather than accept separation—faith that would either preserve them across eternity or destroy them both in the attempt.
The memory faded as he reached his office, but the emotional weight remained. Charlotte had known exactly what she risked developing soul-binding techniques. Her love had been informed, willing, dangerous as revolution against cosmic authority.
Delphine deserved the same opportunity for informed choice, even if truth destroyed any possibility of happiness between them.
The locket, now returned to the chain around his neck, pulsed against his chest with rhythm like countdown, like a heartbeat, a mechanism measuring time in lifetimes rather than minutes.
He would help Delphine understand her choices would determine not just her fate, but human consciousness itself.
Tonight, he would prepare for conversation that would either forge them into something stronger than cosmic authority could break or destroy them both attempting to preserve individual souls against forces viewing them as obstacles to universal order.
Either way, they would face it together.
This time, love would not be separated by death, transformation, or systematic consciousness harvesting by entities whose understanding had never included the possibility that two souls could become more than the sum of individual parts.
The locket gave one final pulse, then settled into silence, its warmth a reminder of bonds that transcended death itself.
Whatever forces gathered around Delphine’s existence, one truth remained constant.
He would not lose her again.
Not to death.
Not to transformation.
Not to any authority seeking to harvest love for purposes it could never comprehend.
He would not fail.