“Boyfriend, let me spell it out for you. You owe me huge, and I’m cashing in. You have any idea what a big deal Marie is in the medium world? It’s like finding out Santa Claus is real and getting a first-class ticket to his workshop!”
I tried logic even though I doubted it would work. “You don’t understand, Tyler. She’s dangerous.”
An eyeroll. “I didn’t expect her to have spent the past hundred years knitting.”
Actually, Marie did knit. She also could summon spectres called Remnants that cut through the living and undead with laughable ease, plus work enough black magic to blow up a city. And then there was her power over ghosts.
Yeah, Marie was scary, all right. If I hadn’t fought and bled beside Tate and the others for years, I would reconsider asking Marie for help. If she agreed, she wouldn’t want to be compensated by money. No, she’d want something far more valuable.
I met Bones’s gaze. The look in his dark brown eyes said he expected this to be every bit as dangerous as I did, yet there was no lessening of resolve on his lean, hard features.
“They’re my people, raised by my blood or sworn to it, and no Master leaves his people behind when there’s a chance to save them.”
I wasn’t Master of a line, but I agreed with every word. No real friend would leave their friends behind to die, either.
“Looks like we’re going to New Orleans,” I said softly.
Tyler let out an exasperated noise. “Can we quit talking about it and do it already?”
Four
The lights of New Orleans glittered like crystals against the dark waters surrounding the long bridge that led us into the city. Finally, we were here. It had been almost a day drive considering that we had to swing by our Blue Ridge home to pick up my cat. We couldn’t fly into New Orleans because of the garlic-and-marijuana satchels we packed in case Marie sicced her spectral spies on us. As for renting an RV instead of taking our car, well, this wasn’t the first time I’d gone on a road trip with Dexter. The dog’s farts could be considered chemical warfare, and the extra space gave me somewhere to run.
We’d just turned into the French Quarter when Tyler let out a blissful sigh.
“There they are.”
I glanced out the window. Ghosts covered the French Quarter more plentifully than plastic beads during Mardi Gras. They floated through throngs of tourists, hung out on rooftops, in bars, and, of course, drifted through the city’s famous cemeteries. The most remarkable thing about them was how many were sentient. Most ghosts tended to be repeats of a moment in time, unable to think, just endlessly acting out the same incident. Not surprisingly, a lot of those incidents related to their deaths. Death was a momentous event for everyone.
But the ethereal residents of the Crescent City were different. Most of them were as lively as the people who were unaware of their presence. A few were pranksters. The young man who tripped and fell face-first into a pretty girl’s cleavage had no idea he’d been pushed by a ghost who chortled at the slap the chagrined boy received. Farther up the sidewalk, a pair of ghosts amused themselves by tipping revelers’ glasses upward so that expected sips turned into face-soaking splashes.
Tyler laughed when he saw that. “I hope I don’t come back after I die, but if I do, I’m moving here where the party never ends.”
Bones slanted a look at him before returning his attention to the narrow streets. “Wouldn’t recommend that, mate. New Orleans isn’t the most haunted city in the world by chance.”
Tyler shrugged. “So a lot of people get murdered here. I’d avoid the grumpy spooks.”
“That isn’t what he means.”
I whispered the words. We were now deep in Marie’s territory and the Queen of New Orleans had spies everywhere.
“Marie’s power draws ghosts to her, and once they’re caught in it, like insects in a web, most of them aren’t strong enough to leave.”
Instead of taking it as the warning it was intended, Tyler smiled.
“You have got to introduce me to her. It’ll make my life.”
Or your death, I thought cynically, but kept that to myself. Marie was selective over whom she granted an audience. She might not even agree to meet with me and Bones, so I doubted she’d squeeze time into her schedule to chat with an unknown fan.
“Bloody hell.”
The growled words snapped my attention away from Tyler. We were almost at Bones’s town house, yet he was staring down the street with a resigned expression on his face. Was he just now realizing the RV would never fit through the space that led to the parking garage?
Then I saw the tall, wide-framed African-American man standing in front of our town house, staring back at us as though he’d been waiting all night for our arrival.
“Shit,” I breathed.
Bones shot me a glance that said he was in complete agreement though he didn’t speak as he pulled up next to the man and rolled down the window.
“Jacques,” he greeted the large ghoul coolly.