One last missing piece.
Jon had told her what he intended all along without her realizing.We must be willing to sacrifice the few to save the many.
Marie shook her head. “No, I will not let that come to pass. I willneverallow that.” A million thoughts, a million paths before her. Each one leading to the birth and death of her child. Her daughter. “What am I to do? Please, tell me, there must be something—”
“You must keep away from Jon until the child is born, Marie.”
“And then?”
“We will baptize the child and look after her together. And you.” Father Antoine’s eyes dampened with emotion. “You will become the mother you are destined to be. Until then, we must pray fervently. We must pray God forgives us for what we must do.”
She should not ask, especially when she could not bear the answer. But ask she did. Because in the end, she would find a way to bear this pain as she had for all the others. For her child, she must. “And Jon?”
“When the time is right, you will use what he has taught you.” Antoine took her by the hand as if she were still the same scared little girl who spoke of visions and demons. “But, Marie, you must be sure to strike him first.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ree
When Ree awoke on the floor in the bayou house, Claudette was bent over her, shaking her back and forth by the shoulders until her teeth rattled.
“What did you learn?” the older witch demanded. “Whatever it was, it was not good. You were screaming like a goat.”
Ree said nothing and climbed to her feet, striding over to the water dish filled with lemon balm and rose petals that they used to dampen Marie’s brow to keep the fever down. She splashed her face, tried her best to wash away her mother’s memories. But they were there, seared into her mind, where they might live forever.
“I know what the Song of Three means now,” said Ree. How long had it been since that night she’d heard the spirits’ riddle in the bayou? They’d seemed resistant to tell her then, she just couldn’t understand why. Would she have even believed them if they had told her what the first Quarter Queen’s words had truly meant? What they meant for Ree? Though only a week had passed, Ree could see the stubborn girl she’d been, so foolish and brash, making a game of everything in her path. But this was no game—this was herlife.
“The Song of Three is just talk,” Claudette said. “Fable born out of the Inquisition. A riddle the old folks tell themselves to make meaning out of a dark time.”
“No, itisn’t,Claudette. It’s about my parents. It’s about me.” She faltered. “I…I was supposed to die.” But Marie had changed that, somehow. She’d changed fate.
Claudette hissed, emerald eyes flashing, and fanned herself with her tarot cards. “ ’Tis bad juju to suggest such things.”
“It is the truth. I saw it for myself. I was born of both their magic.” Marie’s light and Jon’s darkness twined together into some unnamable thing. Into her. “I turned Marcel into a zombi. The Harbinger says a Laveau witch will raise the dead—don’t you see?It’s me, Claudette. I was the thing Jon wanted to use.”
“And what would he have done with you?”
Ree wasn’t sure of the particulars, or that she even wanted to know. Not entirely. “The loa demanded final sacrifice before they would grant him a rebellion.” A sacrifice her father had been willing to make. But not Marie. She felt herself seeded with guilt. She’d always scorned her mother’s protections, her ever-watchful eye. But now she knew. If she had known the truth, perhaps their relationship would have been different. But hindsight would do her no favors now.
“But that didn’t happen. Your mother saved you.Thatis why she warred with Jon.”
Kind as they were, Claudette’s words didn’t make the truth any easier for Ree to accept. That her own father could come to the decision to sacrifice her.We must be willing to sacrifice the few to save the many.To some, that might make him the hero. There was relief in knowing that this other side of her magic was her father’s blood at work. That even if it had killed her, he had been willing to use it to save others. A terrible bargain. But New Orleans was full of them.
Her mother took gasping, shallow breaths, her body fragile on the bed. The truth burned Ree’s throat: Marie was wasting away. She would be lucky if she lived through the night. Which meant Ree couldn’t wait any longer. If she was going to open the Veil, then she must do it now. She stalked to the door but felt a sudden breath of wind push her backward. She whirled to see Claudette staring at her, hands on her hips. How very controlling L’Enchanteresse had become during their time together—some might even sayconcerned.
“And just where are you going?”
“To save my mother!” snapped Ree. “To the city of the fucking dead. That’s where Jon hid the spell, Claudette. It’s where the Veil magic has been this whole time.”
“You can’t go just yet.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Because of this.”
Claudette produced a golden slip of paper affixed with the city’s seal, the fleur-de-lis. Ree crooked a finger, and the letter floated into her waiting hand. She read it over:
Mayor Felix Corbin
