Claude sank back into his chair. "If that's true... if Marcus has been feeding them information... they know everything. Where the collection is stored, when it's accessible, and what songs contain power according to the tales."
"Then we need to get to that collection before they do," Dani decided. "Tonight, during the new moon. Can you get us into Preservation Hall?"
"I have keys," Claude said numbly. "But if they know about the collection..."
"It might be a trap," Kota finished.
"If that's the case, we spring it carefully," Dani replied. "With enough backup to handle whatever they throw at us."
"There's something else," Claude said quietly. "In the past few months, young musicians have been disappearing. Talented kids who were learning the old songs and showing real promise. The police think they're just leaving town to chase bigger opportunities, but..."
"But you don't think that's what happened," I said, already sensing where this was going.
"These kids loved the music too much to just abandon it. And they were starting to remind me of myself when I was young."
"The Collector's been harvesting them," Dani realized with growing horror. "Anyone with Guardian blood who starts manifesting abilities."
"We should assume they are setting a trap for us. They know we are their biggest obstacle. We need to come up with a plan before tonight," Lia said with a nod.
Claude looked at us with a mixture of fear and hope. "You really think you can stop this thing?"
"We've stopped worse," Dani replied with more confidence than I felt through our sister bond. "But we're going to need your help. And your music."
"What do you need me to do?"
"Tonight, you're going to play the most important concert of your life," Dani told him. "And with any luck, it'll be the last time you have to sing away the darkness."
"For now," Dre began, "lay low. Don't go home, don't contact Marcus, and don't trust anyone. We'll meet you at Preservation Hall at eleven-thirty tonight."
Claude nodded slowly, his weathered hands still trembling slightly. "What about the other families? If what you're saying is true..."
"We're going to find them," Dani promised, pushing back from the table. "Right now."
We stood as a group, the urgency of our situation making every second feel precious. Claude remained seated, looking suddenly older and more fragile than when we'd first approached his table. I felt a pang of guilt leaving him alone with this terrible knowledge. Unfortunately, we didn't have a choice.
"Stay in public places," Dani added. "Coffee shops, the Quarter, anywhere with crowds. And if anything feels off—anything at all—call us or our mates immediately. Someone will come."
Phi wrote several phone numbers on the back of a business card and handed it to him. "We mean it, Mr. Moreau. Trust your instincts."
Claude tucked the card into his shirt pocket and patted it like it was a lifeline. "Go," he said, waving us toward the door. "Find the others before they do."
The morning heat hit us like a wall as we stepped out of the air-conditioned café onto the sidewalk. The French Quarter was shifting into its morning rhythm. Street performers were setting up for the tourists who were emerging from hotels.
We walked quickly toward where we'd parked Lia's SUV, our conversation continuing in urgent whispers. "If Marcus Moreau has been feeding information to the Collector's agents," Dani began, "every moment of delay gives them more time to strike at the remaining bloodlines."
"The revelation about Claude's grandson potentially working with the enemy changes everything," I agreed, still feeling the emotional residue from our conversation with the old musician clinging to me like smoke. "If they've been infiltrating the music scene, they'll be targeting the other families too."
Lia clicked the SUV unlocked as we approached, the familiar chirp of the vehicle cutting through the Quarter's ambient noise. "The Garden District it is, then," she said as she got behind the wheel and started the engine. "I have a feeling this won't be our last emergency family visit today."
We climbed into the vehicle with the practiced efficiency of people who'd been running from supernatural danger for months. Kota claimed shotgun as usual while the rest of us settled into the back. Lia took off before we were all buckled, and Phi was pulling up information on her tablet.
"According to the vault records," Phi said as Lia turned down Chartres, "the Fontaine family changed their name to Fountain sometime in the early 1900s. They've been operating a historical tour business from their ancestral home for the past thirty years."
"That's very discreet," Kota muttered, adjusting the air conditioning vents as we left the Quarter's narrow streets for the broader avenues leading toward the Garden District. "Nothing says 'keeping a low profile' like opening your family home to hundreds of tourists every week."
"Actually, it might be genius," Dani pointed out from beside me. "Hide in plain sight. Who would suspect a family running historical tours of being secret magical guardians? They get to preserve their family traditions under the guise of cultural heritage. And all those visitors probably provide excellent cover for any unusual activities."
We nodded as Lia drove through streets with massive oak trees dripping with Spanish moss. We went past grandantebellum mansions behind ornate iron fences. Even with my empathic abilities slightly dampened, I felt the accumulated history and emotional resonance of the area.
