“I don’t have to like it,” Edward said.
“No, you don’t,” she said and kissed him. “Neither do I.”
They resumed their walk, and Caitlin’s thoughts returned to Wraith. She was almost tempted to offer the girl a place in her and Edward’s home, but Caitlin knew that was a bad idea on several levels. The only thing she could do, that anyone could do, was be there for the girl when she needed it.
When she looked up from her musings, Caitlin saw a police officer and thought maybe the cop was watching her. Before her paranoia could get the best of her though, the cop moved and stopped someone a few steps behind her.
“Now it’s my turn to ask if you’re okay,” Edward said.
“If they were really government agents,” Caitlin said, “that means people know the truth, people in power, and decisions are being made with that knowledge.”
“I think we can assume that’s the case,” he said. “I wonder how much they know and how high it goes.”
“I wonder how it is that nothing, not even conspiracy theory rumors, have leaked out.”
Edward smiled a little. “I think the nature of the information helps in the disinformation front.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s one thing to learn the NSA is tracking our phone calls,” he said. “It’s another to that faeries and magic are real and that the government has a group that handles it.”
“I see your point.” She smiled. “I wonder if England knows too. Do you think there’s a real Ministry of Magic?”
Edward laughed. “Come on, Hermione, we’re here.”
Caitlin looked up and saw an old building, which wasn’t saying much since the entire Quarter was made up of old buildings. But this place looked weathered and worn, which was probably intentional. A hand-painted sign, a contrast to the neon and lighted signs that most places on Bourbon sported, read House of Voodoo.
They stepped up and into the shop. It was small, smaller than it looked from the outside, and packed with merchandise for sale. There were bookshelves on one wall and masks covering all the others. Candles, rag dolls, pouches, statues of saints, and other oddities sat on shelves in every available space. Necklaces and still more masks hung from the ceiling, requiring Edward to duck his head occasionally. Caitlin didn’t have that problem.
When she spotted a collection of jars filled with herbs and, well, she didn’t know what, she couldn’t help but think of the faerie market in Tír na nÓg. It was strange the way things that seemed so different were actually pretty similar. A couple of other people, obviously fellow tourists, perused the shop. Caitlin and Edward pretended to shop as well until the other tourists bought a couple of shirts and departed.
“You two need any help?” a spry woman in her late seventies, dressed all in white, said with a matronly smile.
Caitlin realized they were right in front of the jars and pouches.
“Y’all looking for a charm?” the woman asked, then smiled. “I can tell you two don’t need no love magic.”
“Actually,” Caitlin said, “we’re looking for Mama Toups.”
“Well, you found her, darling,” the woman said. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Edward,” he said. “This is Caitlin. We, um, heard about the gris-gris.”
“ ’Fraid you’re going to need to be more specific, child,” Mama Toups said. “I make lots of gris-gris for lots of people.”
“These are the ones you made for the slingers,” Caitlin said.
Mama Toups narrowed her eyes and looked from Caitlin to Edward. Her hand went to a strand of beads she wore around her neck, and she muttered something under her breath.
“You’re a changeling,” she said to Caitlin. “Or you was. Made your choice a long time ago, but you still got the fae in your blood.”
Unbidden, Caitlin thought of her father. She didn’t remember much of him; he’d died when she was very young. It wasn’t until Fiona’s kidnapping that Caitlin had learned the truth of her own heritage. Her father has been a Dawn Court noble and had fallen in love with Caitlin’s mother. Unfortunately, Teagan, queen of the Dawn Court, called him back to Tír na nÓg. He’d refused, unwilling to leave the mortal woman he loved. That refusal, and continued beckoning, had slowly eaten away at him until he’d died. The memories were fewer and fuzzy, but she could still remember him singing to her and his beautiful blue eyes.
Caitlin came back to herself and nodded. “Through my father.”
Mama Toups nodded, then turned to Edward and nodded. “You’re a magi.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Edward said.
Mama Toups took his hand and examined his palm. “You’re a good one, stay in the light, but you were touched by darkness. Looks like only once.”
Edward looked away.
She let go of his hand and looked him in the eye. “But you don’t need no gris-gris from Mama. You can protect yourself just fine. I see that clear too.”
Caitlin saw Edward was uncomfortable, and she couldn’t blame him. It pained her to think it, but she was glad Mama Toups didn’t take her hand and comment about her liaison with the king of the Dusk Court.
“We’re not here for that,” Caitlin said, eager to shift this train of thought. “Have you heard about the, um, well, zombies?”
Mama Toups went to the front door, closed and locked it, then came back. “Why you asking about that? It’s some mighty dark hoodoo.”
“We’re trying to find out who’s behind it,” Edward said. “Do you know?”
She shook her head. “I don’t. Making a zombie is nothing to play with. I don’t deal with the black magic, and none of the other mambos or houngans do either.” She looked from Edward to Caitlin and back. “You’d best avoid that kind of magic. It’ll lead to nothing but bad coming back at ya.”
“I know that all too well,” Edward said. “We’re trying to stop them. I think it’s possible the person behind it is being controlled, or at least influenced, by that same darkness that touched me. I was lucky. I was able to beat it back, but it was a near thing.”
Mama nodded and smiled at Caitlin. “I’m guessing you had the right reason to come back to the light.”
“And he’s a genuinely good person,” Caitlin said.
“That always helps too,” she said and smiled, but it faded quickly. “But not always. Someone in a dark place can find the dark talking to them, and it’s good at saying what you need to hear.”
Caitlin couldn’t help but think of Wraith and wondered what the darkness said to her when she was alone. She made a mental note to reach out more to her.
“Is there anyone you know of who’s in a dark place,” Edward asked, “and has the ability to pull something like this off?”
Mama let out a long sigh. “Child, there’s lots of people in dark places. I see them every day.”
“It’s been going on for a while,” Caitlin said. “Six months or so.”
Mama nodded. “I know. It was right after that mess in the Bywater. We could feel it building, like a storm on the horizon. That was when we—the kings and queens, I mean—got with the First House and started figuring how we could protect them that couldn’t protect themselves.”
“And no one ever figured out who’s behind it?” Edward asked.
“This city is good at hiding its shames,” Mama said. “First we just heard rumors about someone making zombies, but we didn’t believe it. Like I said, it’s not an easy thing: Ain’t but a few of us who could do it. By the time we knew for sure it wasn’t just rumor, we had our hands full with scared peoples. Them number men started showing up around that time too.”
“Number men?” Edward asked. “You mean the agents?”
“Government folk in dark suits,” Mama said. “Go grabbing kids off the street, and when they turn up again, don’t remember nothing of what happened.”
Caitlin and Edward shared a look. Caitlin fought to ignore the growing knot in her stomach.
“Is there anything
you can tell us?” Edward asked. “You’ve got to have some theories or ideas about who’s doing this.”
“I do,” Mama said. “But none of us could ever find the one behind it. We tried all kinds of magic to track it down. Old Man Croix even had some blood from one of them revenants.” She shook her head. “Didn’t do us no good though.”
“We might be able to help,” Edward said.
Caitlin was glad he didn’t elaborate.
Mama gave him another hard look, obviously measuring him up. “Okay. I think you’re looking for someone hurting bad, so bad they might not even know it.”
“Why do you say that?” Caitlin asked.
“When you hurting, that’s when the darkness can get you,” she said, then shrugged. “I wish I could tell you more, give you an address even, but I ain’t got one.”
“That’s okay,” Edward said. “Thank you for your time and for being honest with us.”
“And for helping those kids,” Caitlin said.
Mama smiled. “Mama has to look after the kids.”
Caitlin smiled and nodded, then she and Edward turned to leave.
“Now, you hold up just a minute,” Mama said.
They turned and watched Mama go behind her counter.
“You come on over here,” she said. “I’m not letting you leave without a blessing, a little something to help you along.”
She set a wooden box on the counter. It was old, the wood weathered and gray, and covered in painted symbols. Mama took out two leather pouches, then returned the box.
“Come on now,” she said. “Don’t make an old woman keep walking back and forth.”
“What is it?” Caitlin asked.
“It’s a gris-gris, child,” Mama said. “Not for protection, but for luck. You keep them close, in a pocket or around your neck.”
“Thank you,” Caitlin said. “That’s very kind of you. What do we owe you?”
“Finding who’s doing this and stopping them,” Mama said.
Caitlin watched intently as the old woman lit a candle in an altar and poured some clear liquid into an empty glass in front of a statue. She waved her hands over the glass and candle, almost singing something Caitlin couldn’t understand.
When it was done, Mama walked back to Edward, who towered over her. “Bend down, now. I can’t reach all the way up there.”
Edward looked at Caitlin. She couldn’t help but smile and shrug.
He did as he was asked. Mama put hands on each side of his head and sang some more. Caitlin felt the pressure in the room build, and the hairs on her arms and neck stood up. It felt just like when Edward had summoned an oíche named Justin in an attempt to find where Fiona had been taken. What had initially struck Caitlin as a nice but empty gesture now felt anything but.
“Your turn, darling,” Mama said to Caitlin.
Edward stepped back and Caitlin took his place. She didn’t have to bend down, she and Mama being of a similar height, and the process was repeated. This time it felt different. Caitlin still felt the pressure, but she also felt, well . . . lucky was the only word for it. It was like the same confidence you feel when you’re making a bet you know you’ll win.
“Go in peace,” Mama said.
Caitlin and Edward slipped their gris-gris into a pocket, said their thanks again, and made their way out.
“That was interesting,” Edward said once they were a few blocks away.
“I wish we’d learned more,” Caitlin said. “But I’ve got a good feeling. Maybe that blessing means that Wraith and Henry learned something.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wraith stared up at the dark blue jet on the steel stand. She was wrapped in her cloak, invisible to the people driving in and out of the base. Her eyes moved from the yellow “1” on the tails, to the “US NAVY” under each wing, and forward to the elegant “Blue Angels” in cursive script on the fuselage. It was an impressive aircraft and the closest she’d ever been to one, even though it was clearly no longer operational. She could see why Ellie would be fascinated with them. Wraith thought this one was cool, and it was standing still. How incredible must they look in motion?
A quick glance at her phone as she skipped to the next song on the music player told her she still had a few hours before meeting Edward, Caitlin, and Henry at the hotel, which meant she had time to check out the base. She walked up the road to the gate. Reading the sign and noting every branch—including the Air National Guard—was based there, she couldn’t help but feel nervous. It was one thing to take on a shadowy organization that was doing some truly evil things. But this was, essentially, invading a US military base. Would that make her guilty of treason or maybe sedition? Was she a terrorist now?
As she approached the gate, which was little more than a metal awning with the base’s name on it, she felt an odd sense of familiarity.
She told herself it was probably just nerves, compounded by what Ellie had said.
Just before she reached the checkpoint, manned by two men in camouflage and wearing orange safety vests—which Wraith found comically ironic—something tugged at her brain. She was still wrapped in her cloak, and no one was taking notice of her, but something felt off. Turning slowly in a circle, she saw a couple of cameras, but there was nothing special about them. Cars went by in regular intervals, but none of the drivers even glanced her way. Even the sentries didn’t look her way.
Then what was wrong?
Without thinking about it, she lowered her goggles.
“Holy shit!”
She stopped herself and checked to make sure the sentries didn’t hear her. They still weren’t looking her way. She let out a quiet sigh of relief and turned her attention back to what had caused her to react without thinking.
Lines of magic wove and tangled across the entrance to the base and extended out to the wooden fences that separated the base from what she presumed was civilian housing. There, the magic netting followed the fences down the road. She figured it probably circled the whole base. Carefully, she stepped up to the magic and examined the information of the spell.
It was obviously a ward of some sort; that much was obvious. It was also massive and incredibly powerful. Maybe there was a ley line that ran through the base and someone tapped into that. It had been a surprise for her to learn the lines of power circling and crisscrossing across the globe were real. The fact the military knew about them and was apparently using them was several orders of magnitude more surprising, and unnerving.
A deeper look into the magic told her it was old magic. Not that it had been there a long time, but it was an old spell. The quantum information had a definite feel of antiquity to it. There was no way she’d be able to undo this spell; that became clear as she saw how the lines of equations wove and interconnected, ignoring the sheer size of the thing. If normal wards were locked doors, this was Fort Knox, inside a force field, surrounded by a minefield, and robots, wielding sharks with lasers mounted to their heads.
She took a breath and reminded herself this was a military installation, then turned her attention back to the details of the spell itself. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the magic was designed to both prevent entry and alert if someone tried. The prevention, or wall aspect of it, seemed focused on magic, which meant it was probably supposed to keep slingers out. The number men probably had some kind of talisman that served as a magical key card so they could pass.
She took a step back and considered her options. She couldn’t cross it without forging a pass, which wasn’t going to happen. Digging under it seemed impractical as well as utterly ridiculous. It looked about fifty feet high, which with the right kinetic spell she might be able to clear. The landing on the other side was a different matter though. Besides, what were the odds it was just a fence? She could use the entropic equation and cross through the universal junction point. Maybe, but it seemed unlikely someone would build something this complex and leave a literal gaping hole in the middle. Testing the theory was danger
ous. If she set it off, it would tip off the number men, or whoever was watching, that she’d tested their defenses. No, she needed another way in.
When it dawned on her, she wanted to kick herself. The ward was looking for magic or, more simply, the particular equation in someone’s quantum information that denoted magic ability. She already had an equation—her cloak—that altered the quantum information of photons that came in contact with her information and told them to ignore her. Maybe she could modify that same formula to tell the ward to ignore her too. It would have to be something specific to this ward. Magic was too fluid for her to make a permanent change to her cloak that would let her slip through all wards, though that thought was worth exploring.
Later, she told herself.
No, making some kind of charm or talisman would be the way to go. She could make it and let it run without her continued focus needed to keep it going. Odds were she’d run into more tricks inside the base. She’d probably need to hack some computers, pick some locks, and perform other larcenous acts that would need all the focus she could spare.
In the back of her mind, she began to tally all the laws she’d be breaking. Then, after giving the gate, and the massive ward, a last, regretful look, she turned and headed back the way she’d come. As she did, she reached deep inside herself, to a place where her friends had left pieces of themselves before they’d been freed from her and found peace. Her skill with crafting left much to be desired, but luckily one of her good friends, Fritz, had been a tinker kobold—well, half anyway. The urban legend of gremlins had been born from tinkers, but they were just as good at building and repairing as they were at destroying.
Once out of view, Wraith decided to skip being inconspicuous and instead drew up the entropic equation and stepped into the universal junction point. When reality stopped turning, she was in her safe house. Dropping her bag on the battered sofa, she went straight to the wooden workstation against the wall, the one that had belonged to Fritz.
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