When Calixte stepped forward, holding out Grann’s purse—a leather monstrosity containing everything from candy wrappers to molten lip gloss to dried frogs and lost universes—Grann sighed even more deeply. She rummaged in the bag, finally pulling out a dagger. It had a bone handle and was made from flint, passed on from one generation of Honoré priests and priestesses to the next. Jon knew it was sharp enough to cut a hair in half. Grann waved Calixte away.
“It’s better if you all leave now. This is priestess business.”
The family immediately started filing out of the cemetery. Jon and Barion stayed behind, his mate not willing to leave him. Grann shot them an annoyed look. “I said leave.”
“No.” Jon crossed his arms, and Grann’s eyes turned as hard as the flint of the knife.
“This isn’t for you to see, Jon. You needn’t know.”
Jon let his arms drop. “I think I know what you’re about to do,” he said with a quick glance at the two slaves, who hadn’t moved a muscle since the whole challenge had begun. “You shouldn’t be doing it alone.”
Grann’s gaze softened. “It’s the burden of the priestess, cherie. I know how to deal with it.”
“Can’t you just wait till the magic runs out?” Barion was looking at the two slaves. “It’s already low. It can’t take long.”
“Oh, demontre, if only it were so easy.” Grann looked at the knife in her hands. “You’re right, of course, the magic is running out. Unfortunately, they won’t get their minds back once Fabien’s influence is gone. In order to enslave them, he had to kill the spirit inside. They will be like empty vessels waiting to be filled. That’s no way to live.” She looked at the two men with pity in her eyes. After a moment, the pity morphed into determination, and she gripped the handle of the knife harder. “If you must stay, do it, but don’t interfere.”
Jon felt Barion’s hand on his shoulder. “We won’t, Grann. And we won’t leave you alone, either.”
She smiled sadly. “Merci.”
Jon could feel Barion’s nod more than he saw it from where his mate was standing slightly to his right. Grann started toward the two poor men. Before she could reach them, the flutter of wings cut through the air and a black cock with impressive spurs and a mean-looking beak landed on a branch of the oak where the slaves were standing. He cocked his head to the side, eyeing Grann with his huge eyes. Papa Legba’s voice resounded inside their heads.
“This is not a burden you have to shoulder today, my priestess.”
He fluttered into the air, a little less impressive than when he had flown into the cemetery, because he was only going a short way. Papa Legba landed on the shoulder of the first man, touching his beak to his temple. The man gave a sigh before his body went lax. Papa Legba had to do some frantic fluttering to stay in the air. He then landed on the other man’s shoulder, doing the same to him. Jon could feel that both men were dead. Released. Grann bowed to the cock who had flown back to the branch.
“Thank you, Papa Legba.”
“You’re most welcome.” The bird turned his head toward Barion. “And thank you for aiding my priestess. That man has been a thorn in my side for some time now.”
Barion nodded. “I have to thank you, Papa Legba, for bringing Jon back.”
The cock rustled his feathers. “That was the Norns. Well, it was me who brought him back, but on the insistence of the Norns.”
“I’m grateful anyway.” Barion winked.
“Would you have wanted Fabien for yourself?” Grann seemed a bit worried.
The cock shook his head so fiercely that his cock’s comb was slapping against the sides of his neck. “No, wherever your demon friend is taking him is perfect. He cannot pass back into this realm. That’s all that counts for me. I don’t want to deal with a soul as black as his. They usually turn into something nasty upon death.”
“Well, he’s not going to make it long where Corriwyn is dumping him, but I doubt the rats will be overly impressed by whatever he turns into.”
As if Barion’s words had summoned him, a rift appeared in the fabric of space and Corriwyn stepped through. He looked around until his gaze found Grann.
“Bel leve, it is done. This man will never bother you again.” He bowed elegantly then gave the cock a short salute. “Papa Legba. Long time no see.”
“I’m happy as well.” The cock flustered his feathers. Jon thought he detected a hint of sarcasm but decided he wasn’t fluent enough in avian-god to read anything into it.
Corriwyn stepped next to Grann, offering her his arm. “Bel leve, how about we leave this place and I’ll show you one of the best cafés in France?”
Grann giggled, and Jon was fluent enough in female to know she was flirting like crazy. “Oh, bote nob, it would be my pleasure, but I think I need a change of dress.” She gestured at herself. Corriwyn shook his head as if he were horrified.
“No, no, bel leve, there is no need for changing. First of all, you’re more than perfect the way you are, I absolutely adore powerful women, and secondly, I would never take you to a place where you wouldn’t be welcome in any way, shape or form you choose.”
“He’s taking her to the Café Le Enfers. It’s run by a clan of vampires.” Barion whispered in Jon’s ear.
“Vampires!” Jon shook his head.
