"What kind of interference are we expecting?" Lia asked.
"The Collector will sense the moment you establish contact with the Guardian spirits," Adèle explained. "It will doeverything in its power to prevent that communication and make you its next victims."
"Cheerful," Kota said dryly. "Anything else we should know before we voluntarily walk into hell?"
"The original Guardians sacrificed their lives to create the binding," Adèle continued. "Their spirits have been fighting the Collector's influence for over a century. They're not the peaceful dead you usually communicate with, Deandra. They're warriors, and they may not immediately trust your intentions."
Perfect. Not only did I have to worry about the Collector trying to fry my brain. I also had to be afraid that the spirits I was trying to reach might decide I was the enemy and attack me themselves. The crazy part about that is this was an average day in the life of a Twisted Sister.
"Do not let fear cloud your judgment,"Adèle added. "Your empathic abilities are both your greatest vulnerability and your strongest asset in this endeavor. Trust in your sisters' power to anchor you."
We grabbed salt from the blessed containers, candles that had been charging on the windowsills, and protective amulets that Cami kept stocked for emergencies. With our go-bags loaded down, we rushed out to Lia's SUV in the parking lot. "Everyone in," Lia called as she slid behind the wheel. "We're cutting this way too close."
Kota slid into the passenger seat while the rest of us piled into the back with our hastily gathered arsenal. The moment the last door slammed shut, Lia hit the gas, and we were racing through the plantation gates into the Louisiana night. The drive to Congo Square felt like a race against time—literally.
We had enough magical supplies to stock a small shop. It had been hastily thrown together. Hopefully, it was sufficient. "Park here," I told Lia as we reached the edge of Louis Armstrong Park."Traffic is light this time of night, and we can hide the car so you don’t get a ticket."
"Great minds,” she replied as she slid to a stop along the curb.
We jumped out and cast a spell keeping the vehicle hidden from mundane eyes. The square itself was deserted. That should have been reassuring. Instead, it felt ominous. The ancient oaks that had witnessed centuries of spiritual practice loomed overhead like silent sentinels. Their branches created a natural cathedral that had hosted everything from enslaved people's Sunday gatherings to modern drum circles.
"The magical resonance is even higher than earlier," Phi reported as she checked her phone.
Running my hands over my arms, I nodded. "It’s practically vibrating with accumulated spiritual energy.”
"Good energy or bad energy?" Dani asked as she and Lia began laying out the salt circle according to the precise measurements we'd calculated.
"Both," I replied, opening my empathic senses just enough to get a read on the area. "There are centuries of joy, sorrow, hope, and despair all layered on top of each other. It's like reading an emotional palimpsest."
“The layers of spiritual energy there run deeper than most places on Earth,”Adèle observed through our mental bond. She could speak to us despite being back at the plantation. Her voice was tinged with the reverence I felt. “Tread carefully, child. This ground remembers everything.”
We worked in frantic but efficient silence. Each of us handled our assigned tasks with the kind of coordination that came from months of supernatural crisis management and the pressing knowledge that midnight was approaching fast. Kota placed protective totems at the cardinal points while Dre lit blessed candles. Phi prepared the offerings of rum, tobacco, and flowers.It honored the various spiritual traditions represented in the original Guardian alliance.
At exactly 11:59 PM, I stepped into the center of the circle. For a split second, Congo Square's spiritual history settled over me. The veil between worlds was tissue-thin there as midnight approached. I felt the presence of countless spirits just beyond the other side.
"Remember," Dre called softly, "if anything goes wrong, we will pull you out immediately. No heroics."
"Stupid isn’t on the agenda tonight," I replied, though we both knew that if the Collector decided to make an appearance, there might not be time for extraction procedures.
“I will monitor things through our bond,”Adèle promised. “If the entity attempts to use your connection as a pathway to your sisters, I will sever the link myself.”
“Thank you,” I told her as some of the pressure in my chest eased. I felt better knowing she could help.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my empathic abilities, searching for the specific spiritual signatures of the original Guardians. The response was immediate and absolutely overwhelming. It was like grabbing a live wire made of concentrated anguish and determination. Every nerve ending in my body screamed in protest as centuries of pain, rage, and stubborn refusal to give up slammed into my consciousness all at once. Yeah, this was definitely going to suck.
"Who dares disturb our vigil?" The voice echoed through my consciousness with the force of a nuclear bomb. "Who calls upon those who died to hold back the darkness?"
"My name is Deandra," I projected back while fighting to maintain my composure against the spirit's fierce presence. "I'm seeking knowledge about how to keep the Collector from invading my land, as well as the binding ritual. The Collector isbreaking free, and we need to know how to stop it." I projected my sincerity.
A figure materialized in the center of the circle. It was translucent but solid enough to cast shadows in the candlelight. She wore the clothing of the 1850s, but her eyes held the kind of weariness that came from fighting an impossible battle for longer than anyone should have to.
"I am Marguerite Destrehan, first among the Guardians," she said. Her voice carried the weight of over a century of vigilant suffering. Her form began flickering like a candle flame caught in a hurricane. At that exact moment, I felt something ancient and hungry slam against our protective circle like a battering ram made of pure malice. The Collector was pissed.
Around me, I heard my sisters' sharp intakes of breath as they immediately began channeling their combined power to push back against the entity's assault. Their witch fire—magenta, amber, yellow, light pink, and green—blazed brightly around our circle as they created a barrier that made the darkness recoil.
Forcing myself to ignore the supernatural battle they were facing, I kept my focus locked on Marguerite. This was our one shot. They had come with me to keep the Collector from reaching me.
"We have waited so long for someone to hear our warnings," she continued, her voice growing stronger as my sisters' power reinforced our protective circle. "So many have tried to reach beyond the veil, but none possessed the gift to truly listen."
