CHAPTER 5
DANIELLE
" A re you sure about this?" I asked as Lia pulled up the number for Marie Laveau on her phone. We were back at the plantation and still covered in magical residue from our power station adventure.
"No," Lia admitted as she stared at her phone like it might bite. "But we're running out of options faster than tourists run out of sobriety on Bourbon Street."
"Marie?" Dre asked in a sharp tone. "I know she says she’s changed after everything that happened during the storm. But she could be playing us like a jazz quartet."
"Don’t forget that she helped us in the end," Phi pointed out. Although, she didn't sound convinced. Her fingers absently traced the scar on her arm. It was a souvenir from the last time we'd trusted Marie's ‘help’.
"Yeah, after nearly getting us all killed," Kota muttered. "Multiple times. Or did everyone forget about how she kidnapped Dani and Lia?"
“No one has forgotten,” Lia promised as she met my gaze. “But we have to take a leap of faith.”
Nodding, we gathered around the phone as Lia hit dial. The tension in the room was higher than in a high school classroom. After everything that had happened with Marie before and during the magical storm, our trust in her was as stable as a drunk trying to walk a straight line.
"Lia," Marie's voice purred through the speaker. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"We need information about the Lost Legends," Lia said, cutting straight to the chase. "Specifically, about how your ancestors stopped them the first time."
The silence that followed was longer than a Catholic mass during Lent. "That information," Marie said carefully, "is not something I share lightly. My family's secrets have kept this city safe for generations."
"Safe?" I couldn't help but interrupt. "You ruled it with an iron thumb and took away everyone’s autonomy. They were punished for not following your guidelines. And now, the French Quarter is having a temporal meltdown. We've got Revolutionary War soldiers challenging parking meters to duels and rats organizing union strikes."
"The rats are unionizing?" Marie asked with a hint of genuine surprise in her voice.
"The Victorian ones are demanding better working conditions and tiny top hats," Kota confirmed. "But that's not the point. The Lost Legends have the Larmes du Bayou."
Another long pause. "Impossible. That artifact is secure."
"Tell that to the Lost Legend we just met," Dre shot back. "She seemed pretty cozy with it right before she vanished, taking it with her. The backlash nearly took our heads off in the process."
"The Larmes du Bayou," Marie said slowly, "in the hands of the Lost Legends... this changes things."
"You think?" Lia's patience was wearing thin. "Reality is unraveling faster than a cheap sweater, and you're worried about family secrets?"
"My secrets have kept worse things than temporal disturbances at bay," Marie snapped. She was more controlled when she continued. "Meet me at fourteen-fifty-two Chartres Street in an hour. And sisters? Do try to be discrete. Some knowledge is better left buried."
The line went dead. "She has another house?" Phi asked as she looked at the GPS on her screen.
"Apparently, she's got more properties than a Monopoly board," I said, grabbing my bag. "And more secrets than all of them combined."
My phone buzzed with updates from our network of magical contacts. The temporal disturbances were spreading like kudzu in summer. A Civil War regiment had materialized in City Park. They were convinced they were still fighting the Battle of New Orleans. The streetcars on St. Charles were randomly jumping decades and leaving confused passengers in various historical periods. In Metairie, a subdivision had temporarily reverted to its nineteen-fifties version. The change came complete with the original residents who were understandably confused by their modern neighbors' smart homes and electric cars.
"It's getting worse," I reported, scrolling through the messages. "The Gentilly Walmart just got replaced by its nineteen-eighties version. The prices are amazing, but all the cashiers now have big hair and neon accessories."
"That's probably an improvement," Kota muttered.
Marie's latest sanctuary was a classic Creole cottage that practically vibrated with old magic. The door opened before we could knock. Marie stood there in all her eternal glory. She was dressed in an outfit that somehow managed to span three centuries of fashion while still looking modern and effortlessly elegant.
The interior was a maze of history and magic. Artifacts lined every surface. Each one hummed with a particular frequency of power. A grandfather clock in the corner showed three different times simultaneously. And I swore I saw a mirror reflecting events that hadn't happened yet.
Marie led us to a study that looked like a magical library had exploded and then been meticulously reorganized by someone with obsessive-compulsive tendencies. A map of New Orleans was on one wall. It shifted between different areas. Its streets rearranged themselves like a living puzzle.
"My ancestors' journals," she said as she gestured to a collection of leather-bound books that settled onto a massive oak table with a thump. "The information you seek should be in there. Somewhere." Her tone suggested finding it would be about as pleasant as swimming in gator-infested waters.
Dre dipped her chin. “Thank you, Marie. Your help is deeply appreciated.” She looked at our oldest sister for a second before turning and walking out the door.
The six of us divided up the journals and started searching. Hours passed in frustrated silence broken only by occasional cursing when we hit particularly difficult passages. The books seemed to actively resist being read. The text shifted and blurred unless we concentrated completely. More than once, I caught glimpses of words in languages that shouldn't exist anymore.
"This is useless," Kota finally exploded after her third journal. "Whenever I think I'm getting somewhere, the words rearrange themselves. I swear this one just called me an amateur in Ancient Greek."
"The journals are protected," Marie said from the doorway, making us all jump. I hadn't heard her return. "They only reveal their secrets to those who are permitted."
"Permitted?" Dre's eyes narrowed. "You gave us these books knowing we couldn't read them?"
"I gave you access," Marie corrected. "What the books choose to show you is another matter entirely. The knowledge they contain isn't meant for casual browsing."
"Listen here," I stood up as my patience finally snapped. "While we're playing magical library card catalog, the city is falling apart. The temporal disturbances are spreading. My contacts report similar events as far as Metairie. The Garden District is experiencing random architectural shifts. A house on St. Charles just cycled through every style from Antebellum to Art Deco in under an hour. We don't have time for your games."
"Games?" Marie's eyes flashed. The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. "You think this is a game? These journals contain secrets that could tear this city apart. The knowledge that would make the current chaos look like a Sunday picnic. The Lost Legends were sealed away for a reason. They were warded centuries ago to avoid information from falling into the wrong hands."
"Then help us!" Lia demanded. "Because right now, the Lost Legends are the ones tearing our city apart. And they're using your family's artifact to do it. Or would you prefer to watch New Orleans become a temporal jumble sale?"
Something caught my eye in the journal I'd been struggling with. It was a passage about anchors and power webs. It had suddenly become crystal clear. As if the book had decided I was worthy of this particular secret. “The text described a network of physical anchor points throughout New Orleans. They were places where the fabric of reality was naturally thin. The Lost Legends had used these points to amplify their power. They created a web of temporal energy that allowed them to manipulate everything,” I read aloud.
But before I could read more, Marie waved her hand, and the book slammed shut with enough force to rattle the windows. "That section is not relevant to your current... situation," she said carefully, but not before I caught the flash of fear in her eyes.
"The hell it isn't," Phi said as she got to her feet. "You know something about these anchors, don't you? Something you don't want us to find. Is it about how they're connected to the Larmes du Bayou?"
Marie's expression could have frozen Hell itself. "What I know or don't know is not your concern. You asked about the Lost Legends and the Larmes du Bayou. Nothing more."
"Everything is connected," I argued, standing my ground despite the way Marie's power was making the air crackle. "The Lost Legends, the anchors, the temporal disturbances. We need the whole picture. These anchor points are still active, aren't they? That's why the temporal disturbances are following specific patterns."
"The whole picture?" Marie laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Child, the whole picture would break your mind. Some secrets are kept for a reason. The anchors are complicated. They're tied to the city's history in ways you couldn't begin to understand." That meant she used them and wanted to keep control of them. If we learned too much, we could ruin more of her life.
My phone buzzed with another update about the spreading chaos. "A streetcar just appeared from a hundred years ago," I read. "It's picking up passengers and dropping them off in different decades. The conductor thinks he's still on his regular route and can't understand why the city keeps changing around him. And – oh God, the French Market just cycled back to its original version almost two hundred years ago. It’s even got the original merchandise. We're running out of time."
Marie stared at us for a long moment with an unreadable expression. Finally, she sighed. The sound carried the weight of centuries. "Very well. But understand this. I will help you find what you need to know about the Lost Legends and the Larmes du Bayou. Nothing more. There are other secrets in these books that must remain buried. Secrets that would make the Lost Legends look like amateur hour at a magic show."
Her hands glowed with power as she approached the journals. The books responded their pages ruffling as if caught in a spectral wind. The text began to appear more clearly, though only on certain pages. I noticed she was careful to keep some sections obscured. Her magic wove complex patterns that reminded me of the iron lattices in the French Quarter.
"Here," she said, pointing to a passage that suddenly seemed perfectly legible. "The Lost Legends drew their power from physical anchors placed throughout the city. A network of power points that, when properly aligned, allowed them to manipulate the fabric of reality itself. The anchors were chosen for their natural temporal resonance. They are places where history had left its mark so deeply that the veil is thin."
"Some of these anchors have been destroyed or moved," Phi said as she read further. "Urban development, natural disasters..."
"But enough remain," Marie confirmed. "And with the Larmes du Bayou, they could reactivate the entire network. The artifact was designed to interface with the anchor points and stabilize them. In the wrong hands, it could be used to destabilize them instead."
The journal revealed a complex ritual. It was a way to use the Larmes du Bayou to calm the temporal storms. But it would require access to at least three of the original anchor points and a level of power that made my head spin just thinking about it. I pulled out my phone to call Kaitlyn, but Marie's hand shot out to stop me.
"Wait. There's something else here." She frowned at the journal. "These pages have been disturbed recently. Someone else has been reading them."
"Even more reason to bring Kaitlyn in," I said as I shook off her hand. "Her magical forensics could tell us who's been here and researching the anchors."
Marie's expression darkened. "No outsiders. These books-"
"Are already compromised," Lia cut in. "Someone's been here, reading your precious secrets. Don't you want to know who?"
Another tense moment passed before Marie nodded sharply. "Call her. But only to examine the magical signature. Nothing more."
I dialed Kaitlyn and explained what I needed from her. Kaveh was with her and promised to teleport her over immediately. They arrived before Marie could change her mind and brought a fresh wave of power that made the books rustle nervously on their shelves. Kaitlyn and Kaveh exchanged pleasantries with Marie before Kaitlyn went to work. Her hands glowed as she traced patterns in the air above the journals and cast her spell.
"Oh yeah, someone's definitely been through these," she confirmed. "Recently too. The magical signature is..." She paused and her eyes widened. She had to recognize the particular energy pattern. "It was a vampire. One who's spent a lot of time with these books. Hours, maybe days, studying them. They were looking for something specific about the anchors and the Larmes du Bayou."
"A vampire?" Marie's voice was dangerously soft. "In my private library?"
The revelation hung in the air like a funeral dirge. A vampire with access to Marie's secrets and an interest in the Lost Legends? That couldn't be good. The last time vampires had messed with power they didn't understand, half the French Quarter had nearly ended up in the Underworld. At least, that’s what Kaitlyn had told us. Vampires were evil beings who lost their souls during their transition.
"But which vampire?" I wondered aloud as I thought of all the undead power players in New Orleans. "And more importantly, what do they want with this information?"
"Whatever it is," Phi said grimly, "I'm betting it's not to make sure the Saints win the Super Bowl again."
As Marie stood there glaring at nothing, Kaitlyn grabbed Dre’s arm. "Outside," she said firmly as she herded us toward the door. "Now. Before Marie decides to redecorate with vampire pieces."
We left Marie to her brewing storm with a thank you and followed them into the courtyard. The air was thick with temporal energy. It made the fountain water flow backward and then forward.
"Look," Kaveh said once we were safely away from Marie's hearing and rage zone, "we need to set aside who the vampire is for now and focus on the anchor points. The vampire's identity is less important than what those are connected to."
Kaitlyn nodded and pulled up a map on her phone. "The anchor points aren't just random locations," she explained as she pointed to several spots. "They're all connected through an underground tunnel system that predates the city itself."
"The French Quarter's famous for its tunnels," she continued as she traced lines between points. "But these are older. Much older. And they might hold answers about how the Lost Legends originally tied their power to specific locations."
"You think we might find clues about their original rituals so we can find them?" Phi asked as she examined the map. I could see her scientific mind churning.
"More than that," Kaveh said. "These tunnels could show us exactly how they're planning to use the anchor points now. Sometimes to understand the present..."
"You have to understand the past. And in this case, that requires us to go underground," I finished, already seeing where this was headed. "When do we start?"
Above us, reality hiccupped again. It sent ripples through the air like stones dropped in a temporal pond. The jazz musician's song still echoed for multiple decades. Although, now it felt less like background music and more like a countdown. The question wasn't whether we'd explore the tunnels. It was whether we'd find what we needed before the Lost Legends took over everything.