I didn’t like using my death magic. I’d never been fond of speaking to the ancestors or calling on spirits but tonight I needed to. It could have been life or death. I stalked to my quarters and yanked an old worn grimoire off of the shelf in my living room. The pages of the old grimoire cracked as I opened it, the scent of age and ash curling up like a whisper.
My fingertips brushed across the ink-stained runes, each one vibrating faintly with power long asleep. My father had given me this book though I wasn’t sure it had ever been used by him as he was a diviner and didn’t have death magic in his blood. I’d only used it twice—both during moments when the veil between life and death was too thin for comfort.
Tonight the veil between life and death wasn’t thin but I needed the ancestors anyway.
The runes pulsed beneath my touch, like they were waking up just as reluctantly as I was to use them. I muttered the old words under my breath, the language unfamiliar on my tongue but buried deep in my bones. Death magic wasn’t about light shows or dramatic bursts of power. It was quiet and cold.
I dropped to my knees before the stone hearth in the center of the room, the only place in this entire compound where my magic ever felt like it truly belonged. The shadows bent toward me, curling like fingers across the floor. I grabbed the chalk from the box tucked inside the grimoire’s cover and began drawing the summoning circle with careful precision.
“I seek what is mine,” I said calmly, though my jaw clenched tight. “Where is she?”
The smoke twisted violently, forming an outline—two figures in the dark. One unmistakably Maple. The other... Adelle? It was hard to tell. It shifted again, but this time the outline was male.
She tastes spirits not of the dead.
I let out a breath. “Is she in the Quarter?”
Would you like us to lead you to her?
“Yes.”
The figures in shadows before me twisted and turned before they began crawling across the floor. No one else would be able to see them but me.
I stood and grabbed my father’s cane from behind the door. It had helped him harness and wield his diviner’s magic. It did nothing for my death magic, but it gave me a soothing comfort. On top of that, it also stated my status within New Orleans and the Quarter.
Wherever Maple was, I was going to find her. And if Adelle had dragged her into the Quarter, to the one place where spirits didn’t sleep, where power was unruly and wild…
She and I were going to have a very long conversation.
The musicin the bar was loud—too loud—but at least the air-conditioning was blasting. The last few places Adelle had dragged me into felt like walking into someone’s armpit. Crowded, sticky, and filled with the kind of body heat that made you question every life decision that led you there.
This place, though? It was different. A little darker, a little more upscale. Deep plum walls, low golden lighting, and a bar that shimmered like liquid obsidian. It was still packed, sure, but there was a rhythm to it—like the pulse of the city had slowed just enough to let us breathe.
Adelle pulled me toward a pair of stools at the far end of the bar and flagged down the bartender like she owned the place. “Two frozen hurricanes,” she shouted over the beat and then grinned at me. “You’ll thank me later.”
I perched awkwardly on the stool, trying not to tug at the short hem of the skirt she’d forced me into. “I don’t know how you’re so comfortable in all this noise.”
She shrugged. “Didn’t you grow up in a packed coven that all live rather close?”
I didn’t even know where to begin. “Just because I grew up there didn't mean that I was involved or invited…” My lips curved into a soft smile to ease some of the tension in my words.
“Oh,” her face fell. “I didn’t know.”
How much could I tell her before I gave away too much? Were outcasts normal in covens? I didn’t even know.
Adelle's expression softened, and for once, she didn’t have a clever quip ready. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt like an invitation. But I didn’t know how to answer it.
“I mean…” I swirled the straw in my drink, watching the slush spin like it held answers. “They were kind. No one ever hurt me or anything. It just… didn’t matter that I was there.” I lifted my eyes to meet hers. “I was always on the outside looking in. Like being tolerated was the best I could hope for.”
Adelle frowned. “That’s not how a coven should be.”
“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “But it’s how mine was. Or maybe it was just how I was.”
She leaned an elbow on the bar as she watched me carefully. “They didn’t include you because they didn’t understand your magic?”
My throat tightened, and I had to work to keep my face neutral. “Something like that.”
Somethingexactlylike that.
