The crowd quieted with the kind of respectful attention that came from shared victory and mutual survival. Plus, free food and booze. Never underestimate the power of good catering.
"Originally, this event was meant to be a gathering of my family. It grew during the fight against the Collector and I am glad for it. My family isn’t restricted to blood anymore and I had forgotten that. The binding ritual at Congo Square was a triumph," he continued, his voice carrying clearly across the assembled gathering. "The Six Twisted Sisters created something entirely new. Guardians for a modern age."
"It didn’t almost kill us or anything," Kota muttered under her breath, making me snort with laughter despite trying to look dignified in front of the supernatural community.
"Their successes here have attracted attention from supernatural communities across the South," Cyran continued."Charleston wants consultation on their binding sites. Savannah needs help with their growing supernatural population. So many cities are asking for guidance."
That was news to me. Judging by my sisters' surprised expressions, it was news to them too. We'd been so focused on not dying and planning this celebration that we hadn't had time to find what our success had done.
"Which brings us to the formal establishment of the Gulf Coast Supernatural Council," Cyran announced. "We will be establishing a cooperative body that extends beyond our fair city. It will be designed to coordinate magical defense and provide mutual aid when ancient threats emerge."
"Ancient threats?" I asked, my attention immediately zeroing in on potential problems. "As in, there are more things like the Collector out there?"
"More than we'd like to admit," replied a woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a business magazine. "I'm Councillor Brightwing from the Atlanta Supernatural Compact. We've been tracking several entities that were bound during the same historical period as your Collector. Things across the southern seaboard have been erratic since Samedi's storm."
"Of course, there are more," Lia said with that familiar mix of resignation and determination that had become our trademark response to escalating supernatural weirdness. "How many more are we talking about?"
"At least seven that we're aware of," Brightwing replied, consulting her tablet like she was reading a grocery list instead of discussing evil beings. "Most are still securely bound, but your successful binding modification could be applied to strengthening other prison sites before problems occur."
"You want us to become traveling supernatural exterminators," Dre summarized with her usual talent for cutting through diplomatic bullshit. "You expect us to fixancient bindings across the South like some kind of magical Ghostbusters."
"That would be preferable. We know you are capable. And the compensation would be substantial," Brightwing said with a smile that suggested she'd dealt with reluctant magical practitioners before. "Our council would provide resources, security, and research support."
Lia exchanged glances with the rest of us before responding. "We appreciate the offer, and we're definitely willing to consult on these situations. Share our research, to help you develop strategies, maybe even provide remote assistance with binding modifications."
"But," Dea added, picking up the thread, "New Orleans has enough supernatural problems to keep us busy full-time. We've got ongoing issues with rogue practitioners, territorial disputes between factions, and let's not forget we're still dealing with the aftermath of having cosmic horror in our backyard."
"We'd be happy to help when we can," Kota chimed in, "but we're not looking to become the supernatural cleanup crew for the entire Gulf Coast. Occasional consultation and emergency response? Sure. Regular road trips to fix everyone else's ancient binding problems? That's going to be a no from us."
Before anyone could respond to our diplomatic but firm boundaries, Lucas appeared at Lia's elbow with the expression of someone delivering unwelcome news. "We've got a situation developing at the cemetery district," he said quietly. "Something's stirring in Lafayette No. 2."
"What kind of something?" Lia asked with a frown as her gaze traveled over the group waiting to hear what he had to say.
"The kind that's making every nearby pack member anxious as hell," Noah replied, joining our impromptu crisis consultation. "Whatever it is, it's big, old, and recently awakened."
"It's probably responding to the magical discharge from your binding ritual," Brightwing observed with academic interest. "Large-scale supernatural workings often have unexpected side effects."
"Don't we know it?" Dre noted in the tone of someone whose patience was wearing thin.
Brightwing smiled indulgently at Dre and said, "This is exactly why we need experienced practitioners willing to?—"
"This," I interrupted, gesturing toward Lucas and Noah, "is exactly why we need to focus on our own backyard first. New Orleans keeps us plenty busy without taking on regional responsibilities."
Brightwing's smile faltered slightly. "Perhaps you could reconsider after?—"
"The answer's still going to be no," Dea said firmly. "Thanks for understanding."
With Brightwing looking decidedly less enthusiastic about our cooperation, we started moving toward our vehicles. The conversation was over as far as I was concerned. We had an actual crisis to handle.
As we loaded into our vehicles for yet another emergency response, I made a decision that had been brewing in the back of my mind for years. "Wait," I announced, causing everyone to pause with their hands on car doors. "Before we go rushing off to deal with whatever fresh hell is waiting for us in the cemetery district, I have something to say."
My sisters turned to look at me with expressions ranging from curiosity to concern. "After we handle this crisis—and I mean immediately after—we're taking a vacation," I declared. "A real vacation with no supernatural emergencies."
"Dani," Dre started, but I held up a hand.
"I'm serious. We've been running from one crisis to another for over a year, and now everyone wants us to take on moreresponsibilities? We need to decompress, process what we've been through, and figure out who the hell we are now that we're supernatural."
"Where exactly did you have in mind?" Kota asked as interest flickered in her eyes.
