CHAPTER 3
DREYA
I was in the middle of my second cup of coffee when my phone lit up with yet another notification. Several more ‘ghost’ sightings had come in overnight. When mundies didn’t understand something, they always claimed it was caused by spirits. With respect to these, each one was progressively weirder than the last.
Steve had been up half the night dealing with calls from the hotline. He’d begun helping screen calls so my sisters and I weren’t worked to death. The supernaturals who worked at NOPD had begun calling him directly at one point. It was easier than going through the hotline. I’d felt him slide into bed around four in the morning. He was muttering something about tap-dancing specters on Bourbon Street.
"You should've woken me," I'd told him. In response, he'd pulled me closer and mumbled something about how at least one of us should be functional in the morning.
I watched as Lia crushed another can of Monster, tossing it into the recycling with deadly accuracy. That made two this morning, and we weren't even past breakfast. Given the amount our family consumed, we should seriously consider investing in the company. They'd probably build us a wing of their headquarters.
Lia was slouched in one of the kitchen chairs, looking like she'd gone ten rounds with a demon. Which, knowing her, wasn't entirely out of the question. The shadows under her eyes told the story of her night better than words could. She and Lucas had been out checking the wards again. Those finicky bastards were a special kind of headache, given that we had to keep them tourist-friendly. Sure, we'd finally figured out how to flip them on and off like some mystical light switch. These Lost Legend disturbances? That was some next-level weirdness we hadn't dealt with before.
I hadn't even known she'd gone ward-walking until I stumbled over for coffee this morning. Taking on the weight of the world without a word was classic Lia. Old habits died hard, I guess. She'd spent years doing everything solo after losing her first husband. She’d raised her kids with nothing but grit and determination. Some patterns stick with you, no matter how much backup you've got now.
Watching her demolish a protein bar with the same intensity she'd shown the energy drinks, I made a mental note to talk to Lucas about her midnight ward-checking adventures. Maybe we could work out a better system. One that didn't involve my sister mainlining caffeine like it was going out of style.
My phone buzzed and I pulled it out to see a message from Steve. "Just had another call. Ghost in a top hat trying to conduct traffic on Canal Street. Cars are actually following his directions. Should I be worried?"
"Depends," I typed back. "Is traffic moving better or worse than usual?"
"Actually... better. Think we could hire him permanently?"
I snorted into my coffee. Between the exhaustion and the absurdity of the situation, everything was starting to feel a little surreal. Then again, this was New Orleans. Surreal was our baseline. The doorbell chimed making both Lia and I jolt. “Damn,” Lia muttered as Dani stuck her head in the doorway and said, “They’re here.”
I extended my hand to Lia. “Shall we meet the Light Fae couple?” They were coming to discuss their engagement party. Sometimes I wondered if the universe just liked to pile everything on at once for shits and giggles.
“Yeah, we need to get this over with and find Céleste,” she replied as she let me help her up.
We made it to the entryway where Dani was greeting the couple. "You must be Penelope," Dani said. She had her professional party planner smile on. It was the one that said, 'I can handle anything you throw at me, even if you're literally throwing fairy dust.' Which, knowing Light Fae celebrations, wasn't entirely out of the question.
I watched from my position by the parlor door as the couple practically floated in. They moved with such grace I wondered how they hid their supernatural origins. Light Fae and gravity must have more of an open relationship than actual commitment to each other. The couple was the picture of ethereal perfection, which seemed unfair given how many of us were running on fumes and prayer.
"Please, call me Peni!" The fairy looked like she'd stepped out of a magazine shoot for ‘Perfect Magical Beings Weekly’. Her silver-blonde hair caught the morning light in ways that probably violated several laws of physics. "We're so excited you agreed to do our celebration. It’s the biggest honor of my life."
"Despite the short notice," Jasper added smoothly before producing a bottle of what looked like expensive wine. "This is a token of our appreciation."
That was nice of him, but it didn’t mitigate the inconvenient timing. I fingered the card in my pocket, the one Margaret had given us yesterday. It was definitely getting warmer by the minute. I swear it was trying to tell us to hurry up already. But first, we had to get through this meeting. Business before potential reality-ending disasters, as our bank account always reminded us.
My phone buzzed again. I glanced down to see another text from Steve. "The Ghost conductor has started a flash mob. The entire intersection is doing the Charleston. Send help."
I bit back a laugh and typed, "Sorry, babe. Stuck in Fae party planning hell. Your ghost conductor is probably less dangerous than their color scheme suggestions."
Penelope pulled out a planning binder thick enough to stop bullets. "Well, we've already secured NOLA Creole Catering. Harriet was absolutely lovely about fitting us in on short notice. But for the overall theme, I was thinking celestial elegance meets fairy romance."
"With floating lanterns," Jasper added quickly. "Like the ones you did for the Djinn welcome party. But perhaps with more of a star-like quality?"
I could practically hear Lia's eyeballs scraping against her skull as she rolled them at me. Somehow - and I swear this woman had ninja skills when it came to caffeine acquisition - she'd materialized another can of liquid heart attack. Some sister I was. I’d gotten distracted enough to miss her little procurement mission. Note to self: Text Lucas ASAP before she goes full vibrating chihuahua on us again.
Thank every deity in the cosmic phonebook that our magical DNA awakening came with some sweet physical perks. Without that supernatural constitution upgrade, Lia would probably be having a seizure right about now. Or, you know, straight-up dying from caffeine poisoning. Modern medicine would have a field day trying to explain that one.
I snatched the can from her hand before she could pop the tab, ignoring her death glare. ‘Nope. Not today, Satan’, I sent back with my eyes.
"The lanterns won't be a problem," Dani assured the couple while simultaneously sending a text under the table. She was probably updating Noah on the latest supernatural shenanigans. Or arranging for someone to help with the lanterns, you never knew with her. "We can incorporate actual starlight into the enchantment. We'll need to account for the phase of the moon so it doesn’t outshine our efforts."
I tuned out most of the conversation. My focus was split between the increasing desire to get to the real task of the day and the stream of texts from Steve about the escalating situation across the city. There were three more ghost sightings in the last hour alone. They weren't your typical lost soul wandering around Jackson Square, either. These ghosts were organizing flash mobs and critiquing tourist fashion choices. In French.
"And of course," Penelope was saying, "we'll need to consider the lighting requirements for different species. The Shadow Fae delegation gets so touchy about excess illumination." Shadow Fae? Were the Fae now acknowledging not everyone was created equal? That either the Light or Dark Fae could fall somewhere in between? It would be huge progress if that were the case.
My phone buzzed with another message from Steve. "Just had to talk down a Revolutionary War ghost who was trying to challenge a parking meter to a duel. This is getting weird."
I typed back, "Weirder than last night's zombie jazz band?"
"Way weirder. The parking meter was winning." Steve fired back before going silent.
After what felt like an eternity of discussing fairy light placement and magical flower arrangements; this included a fifteen-minute debate about moon-blooming nightshade. Specifically if it was too Dark Fae for a Light Fae celebration; we finally saw the couple out. Penelope left behind her binder. I know the ominous presence was prodding Dani to get to work so I pulled out the card from Margaret.
"We should get moving if we're going to track down this Céleste person," I said as I waved it in front of her. “The card's been burning a hole in my pocket. Literally. I think it's trying to tell us something."
Lia hauled herself up from her chair. She was as relieved as I was to escape. "Now, that's something I can contribute to. The whole discussion about the proper placement of fairy light crystals was beyond me." She shuddered dramatically. "Way beyond me."
"You just don't appreciate the complexities of magical event planning," Dani said with a grin as she grabbed her bag. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I suppose not everyone can be blessed with my impeccable taste."
"I appreciate not having to worry about whether the centerpieces will achieve sentience and start a rebellion," Lia shot back as she bumped Dani's shoulder playfully.
We were halfway to Lia's car when Kota arrived. Her dark hair was styled to perfection, and she had a scowl on her face as she exploded from her vehicle. She really knew how to make an entrance. "If y'all are sneaking off to do something fun without me, I'm gonna be seriously offended," she announced as she moved to the passenger side of Lia’s SUV.
"We’re going to find Céleste. The sooner we figure out what's causing these Lost Legend disturbances, the better. I'm getting real tired of our tourists running into historical figures that shouldn't exist," I explained to her.
"Tell me about it," Kota said as we piled in. "I heard Spencer had to convince a group this morning that they hadn't actually seen Jean Lafitte's ghost ship in the parking lot." Great. Now my kids were having to pick up the pieces. Shit was going sideways fast.
The drive into the city was pure New Orleans chaos. Tourists stumbled into traffic, street performers created impromptu parades, and at least three separate jazz bands competed for airspace. Add to that the appearance of several ghosts and even a few imps.
Lia's creative cursing as she navigated through it all was honestly impressive. I made mental notes of some of her more creative phrases for future use. Kota, the brat, just lounged in her seat filming Lia's road rage for posterity. Dani’s daughter, Genevieve had trained us to record everything so she could create reels for Willowberry’s Instagram page.
The Tremé welcomed us with its usual mix of old-world charm and new-age hipster invasion. We found a parking spot that was probably legal. Hey, in New Orleans, that's always a bit of a gray area. We made our way down streets that pulsed with more than just the usual French Quarter energy.
"This is it?" I asked as I eyed the shopfront wedged between what had to be the most pretentious coffee shop I'd ever seen and a barbershop where every single barber looked like they'd stepped out of a vintage Instagram filter.
The sign above the door read "Céleste's Curiosities" in gold letters that played tricks on your eyes. If you looked straight at them, they were just letters. When you caught them from the corner of your vision, they danced and shifted like they were trying to escape the confines of our reality. Great. One of those places.
"Well," Lia muttered, "at least we know it's legitimately magical. No tourist trap would go through the trouble of enchanting their signage to be that annoying."
"Unless they hired that weird guy from Jackson Square," Dani mused. "You know, the one whose city scenes look like New Orleans on a bad acid trip?"
"Oh God, that guy." Lia pinched the bridge of her nose. "I had to convince Leo’s parents that his painting of Marie Laveau breakdancing with zombies wasn't actually based on real events." Lia’s relationship with Leo’s parents had been strained since his death, but they still talked a couple of times a month.
I caught her eye. "It must have been fun trying to explain that one without mentioning the V-word." Voodoo was a touchy subject with Leo's very Catholic parents even before we knew magic was real. Now, it was like trying to navigate a minefield while juggling flaming swords.
"This is it?" Kota redirected back to the task at hand. She was clutching her messenger bag like Jeff might materialize out of it with answers. "Aside from the sign, it looks normal."
"That's probably the point," Phi said as she stepped out of Dea’s car. "The best place to hide is in plain sight."
“Thanks for waiting for us,” Dea said as she joined us.
I inclined my head and pushed open the door. I wasn’t about to tell them I hadn't realized Dani had sent them a text. In my defense, I was exhausted and hadn’t consumed enough caffeine to power a small city.
The shop's bell chimed, and holy mother of awkward magical encounters. My power did the supernatural equivalent of nails on a chalkboard while simultaneously trying to hide behind the metaphysical couch. The energy radiating from it felt like Marie's. If she was having the mother of all bad days and decided to take it out on my magical senses.
The card in my pocket went from ‘concerning warmth’ to ‘oh shit, it's alive’. I was pretty sure it was trying to tap dance its way through my jeans. Either that or it was attempting to communicate in Morse code. Honestly, that wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen today. Though if it started singing, I was out of there. Emergency mission or not.
The shop's interior looked like someone had taken every magical movie cliché and decided to make them real. However, it was obvious these weren't props for tourists. The crystals actually held power. They hummed like they’d been consuming Lia’s energy drinks. The books were bound in materials I didn't want to think about. My head tilted to the side as I looked at the feline lounging with an open book. Was that three-legged cat actually reading the grimoire?
"Don't stare at Maurice," a voice called from behind a beaded curtain. "He's sensitive about his reading habits."
The woman who emerged looked like she'd stepped out of a vintage photograph. She wore a flowing dress in deep purple. Her silver hair was wrapped in an elaborate head scarf. She was also wearing multiple necklaces that clinked softly as she moved. If I got close enough, would they hum with power?
I pulled out Margaret's card. It wasn’t surprising to see that it was now glowing faintly. It was also trying to communicate in Morse code. "Margaret sent us. She said to tell you the shadows are moving again."
Céleste's expression sharpened like a knife. "Did she now?" Her eyes swept over our group. A brush of her power flowed against us. It was ancient, deep, and about as subtle as a drunk tourist on Bourbon Street. "The Twisted Sisters. I was wondering when you'd show up."
"Ah, our reputation precedes us," Kota said dryly.
"Sugar, in this city? Your reputation practically has its own ZIP code." Céleste moved to the door and flipped the sign to "CLOSED." I gaped at her when she drew a sigil in the air that made the windows frost over. The old magic in the symbol felt like it predated most modern protection spells.
"Look," I said, watching that frost pattern with more than a little concern, "we're here because the city's got a serious case of historical figure infestation. The word is you might know something about how Marie Laveau and her people managed to boot the Lost Legends out of New Orleans the first time around." I paused and took a steadying breath. "We really need that information before the world starts thinking they need to take a closer look at our city."
Céleste’s response was to direct us to the back room. The place looked like a history professor's office had a wild night with a fortune teller's parlor and neither bothered to clean up afterward. Books and papers covered every surface. The massive corkboard on one wall screamed 'I've solved the conspiracy' with its web of photos, newspaper clippings, and red string connections. The smell of coffee that was strong enough to wake the dead tickled my nose. I could've used a cup of that liquid resurrection.
"The Legends," Céleste said without preamble as she settled behind her desk like a queen about to deliver bad news, "were not what you think. The stories do say Marie Laveau was involved in their disappearance. But sugar, that's like saying the ocean is 'involved' in making waves. What really happened?" She tapped a yellowed newspaper clipping. "That's been buried deeper than most family secrets in this town."
"What exactly do the stories say?" Phi asked as she clutched her tablet to her chest like a shield.
"They say she discovered something about their nature. That she learned about what drove them down the road they took. But the exact details..." Céleste trailed off and shook her head. "Those who knew the truth took many secrets to their graves."
"Let me guess," Lia interrupted with a grim expression, "no one wrote anything down. That would've been too freaking helpful."
I shot Lia a look. Steve always said my sisters had all the subtlety of a hurricane in a China shop. That was never more evident than now. It was a family trait. What can I say? None of us tolerated bullshit very well.
Céleste's laugh was like wind chimes in a storm. "Oh, child. They wrote plenty down. The question is, who has those writings now? And what else might they have found with them?"
"The attacks are following the same patterns as before," Dea pointed out. "Someone must have access to detailed records so we can compare and find out how they were stopped last time."
"Or perhaps they have more than just records," Céleste mused as she ran her fingers along the spine of an ancient ledger. "They found the Larmes du Bayou - the Tears of the Bayou. It's a crystalline formation that grew where reality fractured in the deep swamps. It is said to have collected memories like morning dew. Marie discovered it where three ley lines crossed beneath an ancient cypress grove. It was a place where the boundary between what-is and what-could-be had worn as thin as Spanish moss."
She pulled down a journal bound in alligator hide. "The stories say it wept actual tears of liquid time. Each drop contained fragments of alternate realities. Marie never revealed the exact details. But the whispers..." Céleste's eyes went distant. "They say if you listened closely, you could hear the voices of every possible New Orleans that ever was or could be, all speaking at once."
My phone lit up with rapid-fire texts from Steve. "Major situation developing." "Reality going sideways." "Literally sideways." "Send backup." "Also, bring coffee."
Before I could respond to either Steve or Céleste, screams erupted from outside. I’m not talking your standard ‘woo-girl finding another Hurricane special’ French Quarter screams. These were the ‘oh shit, demons are attacking’ kind. It made my magic do the supernatural equivalent of hitting the panic button.
I was out the door before my brain caught up with my feet. The scene outside looked like reality had decided to take acid and go on a bender. The streets were bleeding history. Every crack in the pavement spawned technicolor wisps that showed past moments. They twisted up like demented jack-in-the-boxes. Marie Antoinette popped out of a storm drain. She didn’t have her head but was still trying to serve cake to screaming tourists. And because this is New Orleans, they couldn't decide to run or record everything to put on TikTok. The air rippled like reality was having a seizure. It folded in on itself in ways that would make physics professors drink themselves into early retirement.
Fragments of different centuries collided and merged in the middle of the street. A horse-drawn carriage clipped through a Prius like a video game glitch. It left both vehicles sporting a concerning blend of past and present. The brick walls of the buildings were breathing and occasionally spitting out chunks of their own historical moments. It reminded me of a cat coughing up particularly nasty hairballs.
"Well, shit," I muttered as my sisters fell into formation beside me. "They're not even pretending to be subtle anymore."
A hot dog cart did a somersault overhead before turning itself inside out. Some poor tourist's selfie stick transformed into a very annoyed python. And because, why the hell not, a streetlight was performing Hamlet. In Latin.
We moved together like we'd practiced a thousand times, but these temporal rifts weren't playing by any rulebook we knew. Historical moments kept crystallizing in the air like deadly snowflakes. Each one was a razor-sharp slice of the past that could shred through the magical barriers we erected. A shard of eighteen-twelve sliced through our defenses. My magic hiccupped like it had swallowed a time bubble sideways. How the hell did you fight something like this?
"They're stronger," Phi shouted over what sounded like three different centuries having a bar fight. Her fingers flew over her phone while pieces of the past tried to rewrite themselves around us. "And more coordinated. This isn't random anymore!"
Céleste emerged from her shop like she owned time itself. Power rolled off her in waves that made my magical senses want to file for overtime pay. She raised her hands. Suddenly, symbols, that looked like they'd been written before language got its driver's license, crystalized. The temporal rifts froze, and each piece of fractured history retreated back to its proper century.
"They're not just copying the old patterns anymore,” Phi pointed out. “They're improving on them."
"How is that possible?" Dani asked. "The original Lost Legends took years to build up this kind of temporal juice."
"Unless they're not starting fresh," Phi said. Her face lit up like it did when she had a scientific discovery. She’d figured something out that was eluding me. "What if they found more than dusty old records? What if they tapped into the original power source and are starting where they left off?"
"The Larmes du Bayou," Dea breathed. It was as if she was afraid saying it too loud might summon another century-bending disaster. "They've got to have it nearby to cause this level of temporal fuckery. No way they're managing this kind of reality remix from a distance."
"But where would you hide a crying time crystal in New Orleans?" I wondered out loud. "It's not exactly something you can stash in a tourist shop between the voodoo dolls and hot sauce."
"The old Canal Street power station," Lia said, already pulling up the location on her phone. "Think about it. It's got the electrical infrastructure to amplify magical energy across the whole city. Plus, the place has been collecting dust and bad vibes since the nineties. Perfect spot to set up shop."
"Great," Dani groaned as she shoved her hair back from her face. "Because my day isn't complete without exploring an abandoned building that's been marinating in darkness since Bill Clinton was trying to explain what the definition of 'is' is. You think the rats there have evolved to time-traveling abilities yet?"
"Only one way to find out," I said as I checked to make sure my weapons were in my bag. "Though if we run into any rodents speaking French and carrying the plague from three different centuries ago, I'm calling in sick for the rest of the year."