The drive to the French Quarter gave me time to process what I'd seen in the vision. By the time we reached Café Du Monde, I had a theory that scared the hell out of me. We commandeered a large table in the back corner away from the tourists.
Marie arrived twenty minutes later, carrying her personal grimoire. It was a leather-bound collection of spells andprotective wards that had been in her family for generations. She’d been our enemy not that long ago and it was still hard for me to trust her. We all remained wary of her but used her when we could. She was the Queen of Voodoo and the expert on her heritage. She took one look at our photographs and her expression darkened.
"These symbols," she said, tracing one with her finger, "are from my grimoire. But they've been changed." Her dark eyes were troubled as she flipped through the ancient pages. "Here—this is the original protective ward. It was meant to keep spirits at rest."
I leaned closer, comparing the photo to the grimoire page while absently reaching for a beignet. At least crisis management came with good food. “Someone's inverted parts of it.”
“Precisely what’s happened. That changes it from protection to exploitation. Specifically, binding and harvesting," Marie confirmed grimly. "Whoever did this understands voodoo traditions and has corrupted them for dark purposes."
Lia stirred her café au lait thoughtfully. "The fake professor who visited the cemetery must have photographed your family's protective symbols and then perverted them."
"Professor Martin LeClair," Dre said, consulting her notes.
"He doesn't exist according to any university database," Phi added grimly.
"But why?" Dea asked as she unconsciously ran a finger through the pile of powdered sugar on her plate. "What's the endgame?"
Before anyone could answer, my phone buzzed with a text that made my blood run cold. It was an urgent message from Detective Payne. “Body found at St. Louis No. 1. Ritual markings. Need your expertise ASAP.”
"Well, there goes the rest of our afternoon," I announced as I showed them the text. "Detective Payne found a body."
"At St. Louis Cemetery?" Kota's eyebrows shot up. "That's tourist central. If there's supernatural weirdness happening there?—"
"The mundane authorities will get involved," Phi finished. "This could expose everything."
I stared longingly at my half-eaten beignet. We'd been at the café for less than half an hour, and already we were being called away to deal with another supernatural crisis. That was exactly why I couldn't have nice things anymore.
"Can we at least get these to go?" I asked, gesturing at our food.
"Dani," Lia said in that tone that meant business.
“Right, right. Dead body trumps beignets. I get it. But I'm officially adding 'interrupted meals' to our list of hazard pay qualifications,” I replied as I stood.
Marie promised to continue cross-referencing the symbols while we dealt with whatever fresh hell awaited us at St. Louis Cemetery. The drive took fifteen minutes through French Quarter traffic. I used every second to mentally prepare for the worst.
St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 was the complete opposite of Lafayette No. 3. This cemetery was well-maintained. It was popular with tourists and regularly patrolled. Which made Detective Payne's presence even more concerning.
Wendell Payne met us at the cemetery entrance, his expression grim enough to make my stomach clench. "The body was discovered this morning by a tour group," he explained as he led us through the maze of above-ground tombs. "It’s an adult male, mid-thirties, no ID. But here's the weird part. He's covered in symbols that were carved into his skin."
“Carved?” Phi's voice was sharp. “Were they done pre- or post-mortem?”
The detective shook his head. “That's what we're trying to figure out. The coroner is baffled. The cuts are precise, almost ritualistic. Something feels off about the blood pattern.”
We reached a cordoned-off area near Marie Laveau's tomb. Of course, it was near the most famous voodoo priestess's ancestor’s final resting place. It was a target for most tourists and supernaturals visiting the cemetery. Crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze, and uniformed officers kept curious tourists at bay.
"Where's the body?" I asked as I scanned the empty space within the tape perimeter.
Ray's face went pale. "That's the problem. It was here two hours ago. Now..." He gestured at the empty ground where a chalk outline marked where it had been.
"The body's gone?" Lia's voice rose an octave.
"It vanished. Along with most of the ritual objects we found around it." Detective Payne pulled out his phone and showed us photos he'd taken earlier. "There were candles, bones, some small bags filled with what looked like dirt and... other things. I think those are gris-gris bags."
My chest tightened as I studied the photo. "You’re right. Those are gris-gris bags. Just like the ones you saw in your vision, Lia."
Lucas was crouched near the chalk outline. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he looked over at us. "There's something here. It’s not human." He stood, brushing off his hands. "If I’m not wrong, it’s ectoplasm residue and connected to whatever happened to that body."
"The veil between worlds is thinnest here," Adèle projected to us. "This location was chosen deliberately."
