"You hope," Dre added darkly.
The drive back toward the city felt longer this time. Maybe because we were heading into the unknown instead of a simple business meeting. Spanish moss gave way to suburban sprawl, which eventually morphed into the industrial outskirts where businesses stored things they didn't want cluttering up the pretty parts of town.
The storage facility was a massive warehouse complex that looked like it could house a small airplane. It was surrounded by chain-link fencing and the kind of security cameras that meant serious business. Jeff was waiting for us in the parking lot. He looked like he could melt.
"Hey, love," he called to his wife as we climbed out of the blessed cool of the SUV and back into the sweltering heat. He kissed Kota and then looked around at each of us. “Ready to get a look around?”
The main building was exactly like the last time we visited. There were rows upon rows of elaborate floats in various stages of repair and decay. This trip we bi-passed the newer floats being used in current parades and went to the older section. It was tucked away in the back corner where decades-old floats sat gathering dust like forgotten dreams. And they drew my attention like a magnet.
"These haven't been used since before we were born," Jeff explained as we made our way through the maze of covered structures. "Some of them belonged to krewes that disbanded in the sixties and seventies."
I began examining a particularly ornate float depicting some kind of mythological sea scene, running my hands along the elaborate mermaids and sea serpents. My fingers found an irregularity in the base. It was a slight depression that didn't match the rest of the ornate detailing.
"There's something here," I called to my sisters, my pulse quickening. "It's a hidden panel or something."
"On my way," Kota replied as she jogged over from where she'd been poking around a faded Bacchus float. Dre and Dani weren't far behind, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space.
"What kind of something?" Dre asked, dropping to her knees beside me and running her own fingers over the area I'd found.
"The bad kind, probably," Kota muttered as she pulled out her phone's flashlight to get a better look.
It took three of us working together to pry open the concealed section. Dre and I pulled while Kota wedged her keys into the seam. Dani, Phi, and Dea supervised and gave advice. When we finally managed it with a grinding screech of old metal, we hit the supernatural jackpot.
Inside was a collection of preserved gris-gris bags. Each one was carefully labeled with spidery handwriting and arranged likeprecious artifacts. The smell that wafted up made my stomach recoil. It was a mixture of decay and dark power.
"Well, shit," Kota breathed as she leaned back on her heels.
"St. Louis No. 1 - New Moon," Dani read from one of the labels. "Lafayette No. 3 - Waning Crescent. These go back decades."
"Someone's been using these for a very long time," I said as I studied the meticulous handwriting on each label. "They’ve been trying different combinations. They’re systematic and organized."
Adèle’s voice startled me when she gave us her opinion. She’d remained at home and wasn’t even with us this time. "Not exactly. These bags were created to maintain balance," she projected. "They're not corrupted like the ones we found yesterday. These were made to strengthen the barrier between worlds."
"So, we've got two groups," Kota said. "One trying to keep the entity bound, and one trying to set it free."
"Which means we need to figure out which side that woman with the amulet is on," I replied. "And fast."
We were handling them like they might explode at any moment as we loaded the gris-gris bags into the back of my SUV. Given our recent luck, that wasn't entirely out of the question. Kota was muttering under her breath about the smell, while Dre carefully arranged them in a box Jeff had given us. That was when my magical early warning system decided to lose its ever-loving mind.
It wasn't the gentle tingle I'd felt at the restaurant. This was a full-body, five-alarm, ‘run for your life’ kind of warning that made every nerve ending I possessed scream in unison. A vice tightened around my chest, and for a split second, I couldn't breathe.
"We need to move," Dea said as she grabbed the last of the bags. "Something's drawing me toward the old section of Metairie Cemetery.”
“By something, do you mean the kind of something that usually tries to kill us?" Kota asked as we hopped into my car.
Dea laughed as I pulled out of our spot. “It’s like you can read my mind.”
The drive to Metairie Cemetery felt like racing toward a supernatural storm front. With each mile, Dea became more agitated until she could barely sit still. It put everyone on edge. By the time we reached the cemetery gates, I swear I could see the spectral figures.
"There," Dea pointed toward an abandoned mausoleum in the older section. "Whatever's happening, it's happening there."
I parked a few feet away from the structure. I’d barely put the car in park when my sisters jumped from the vehicle. Slinging my go bag over my head, I joined them. We approached the mausoleum with the kind of caution you'd use around a sleeping dragon. Nothing could have prepared us for what we found. Dozens of ghosts were gathered around the structure. It was bad if we could all see them.
“Are these ghosts different?” I asked Dea, our resident ghost expert.
“They aren't the wispy, translucent spirits we usually encounter,” she replied grimly.
Now that she said something, I realized they were solid enough that they cast shadows. And solid enough that they could manipulate physical objects. “They’re in the middle of a ritual,” I blurted.
