I knew she was nervous, but I wasn’t sure I could handle much more of this. I shook my head and rubbed my temples. It was 4am and we were almost there... but I was definitely having a series of ‘are we there yet?’ moments.
“Maia?”
Shit.
“Sorry... which question did you want me to answer?”
Lacey blinked at me for a second. “Any of them?”
“Uh, well...” I struggled to remember what she’d asked in that last stream of consciousness. “In the bowl... I saw a woman with long red hair—“
“Oh! Red hair like yours, or red like Fee’s? It’s very different, you know. Yours is darker and has some orange bits in it and Fee’s is kind of cinnamon-y. Do you think it smells like cinnamon? I wonder if she’d yell at me if I tried to smell her hair. I mean, I used to love the smell of cinnamon, but now it just makes me sneeze and I wouldn’t want to sneeze on—“
“I don’t know. Just red. I didn’t see her for very long. She had her back to me, but she was in a store full of crystals and stuff.”
Are we there yet?
“Ohhhh! I love those things. What kind of crystals? Are we going to go see the shop, Maia? I’d love to get some new crystals. I’ve been feeling really drawn to rose quartz recently. Maybe a necklace or a ring or something... Did you see candles or anything? I need more candles.” Lacey clapped her hands together lightly and I did my best not to roll my eyes. She was really like this all the time. It was exhausting. I don’t know how Ophelia dealt with it, but she seemed to find Lacey endearing.
“Yeah... sure.” I remembered that I needed to buy some candles too, something to replace the ones I’d used for the scrying. Maybe I could find something that would be an appropriate peace offering. Ophelia had been really angry that I’d been dabbling without her. But I didn’t see how it was such a big deal. I was powerful too, and I didn’t need her to hold my hand.
“What else did you see?”
“Hm?” Shit. Lacey’s wide eyes were trained on me, desperate for more information. “Just the shop, there were lots of books and posters about palmistry...”
“Ooooo do you think she reads palms?” Lacey held up her small hands, inspecting them carefully. “I don’t think she’ll get much out of mine, my lifeline hasn’t exactly grown,” she said with a little frown.
“I guess we can ask. I just don’t know how much I can trust what I saw. Ophelia told me that sometimes the visions are just a projection of what you want to see. This woman might not even exist.” I rubbed my hands over the leather bound book in my lap.
“Her name was in here, wasn’t it?” Lacey asked quietly, reaching out to tap a fingertip against the book.
I nodded. “I even said it when I was performing the spell.”
“Well then that settles it. I think you saw the truth, Maia. Now we just have to find her. And maybe on the way we’ll find what I’m looking for too.” Lacey smiled crookedly at me and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“We’ll see.” I paused for a moment, weighing my next words carefully. I didn’t want to pry into Lacey’s life, I knew she’d been a little messed up lately, but I’d been so caught up in what Ophelia was teaching me that I hadn’t had a chance to ask her what was going on. “What are you looking for anyway, Lace?”
Lacey fidgeted a little, her hands twisting in her lap. “I’m not... I’m not sure. I just knew that I couldn’t stay in New York for another second. Change of scenery, y’know?”
Well, she was definitely lying.
“Really, Lace? This is a pretty drastic ‘just because’ trip. What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, smiling at me awkwardly. I raised an eyebrow to let her know that I didn’t believe her, but she didn’t have to tell me anything. Maybe once we got into New Orleans she’d finally open up.
“Fine, keep your secrets, but if you want my help, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on,” I said. Lacey nodded and looked out the window. It was obvious that the conversation was over, and that was fine with me.
The bus dropped us in the French Quarter as the sun was just beginning to rise. Lacey stared at her phone desperately, threw her backpack over her shoulder, and then rushed away down the sidewalk in what I could only assume was the direction of our hotel. “Hurry up, Maia! I have to get inside!”
Shit. Right. Sunlight.
I hustled to catch up to her, and caught up just as she turned a sharp corner down a narrow alleyway.
“Hey! I don’t even know where we’re going,” I puffed. Lacey didn’t answer, she just pointed ahead of us at a building hung with a jarringly bright paint job and glittering strings of beads. Really? There?
I rolled my eyes as Lacey sped up again, wincing as the sunlight began to peep over the edge of the buildings around us. I pulled off my coat and threw it over her head as we pushed through the beads covering the door to step into the B&B’s foyer.
La Belle Creole had been a grand house in its heyday, but the crazy color scheme followed us indoors as well and Lacey pushed my coat aside to squeak with excitement at the little details that covered every inch of the walls.
“Cluttered,” I murmured.
“Divine,” Lacey breathed. “Fee would hate this,” she whispered. I nodded. She most definitely would, with the heat of a thousand suns.
Lacey punched a code into a brightly painted locked box next to the ornate wooden desk that served as reception. Our key waited inside in a small envelope with Lacey’s name written on it in flowery script.
“Let’s get upstairs,” she said, opening the envelope to peek inside. “I’m exhausted.” I rolled my eyes. Wrong audience, Lace.
With a little squeal she dumped the contents of the envelope into her hand. The room key and a generous helping of glitter spilled into her palm and I snorted.
“Well... that’s...”
“So cute,” Lacey finished for me. It was not cute; it was annoying. Glitter was horrible. I wouldn’t mail an envelope full of glitter to my worst enemy. That shit was insidious.
I followed Lacey up the stairs, waiting while she stopped to exclaim over and point out every little detail. The walls were crammed with photos, terrible bright colored artwork, and Mardi Gras kitsch.
“Come on, Lace. I’m tired. And you should get some sleep too.”
“Right. Right, I’m coming.” Lacey scampered up the stairs, clearly resisting the urge to stop and examine a brightly painted Virgin of Guadalupe statue that was sitting in a niche at the top of the staircase.
Our room was at the end of a long hallway, and Lacey dumped her handful of glitter onto the floor as she put the ancient key into the lock. “Oops,” she said, looking embarrassed as the glitter disappeared into the carpet.
“They knew what they were signing up for when they gave out glitter,” I said, shoving Lacey into the room as the door swung open.
“Should I tell someone?”
“Lacey, it’s not even 6am. I don’t think anyone gives a fuck right now.” Lacey didn’t look convinced, and fixed the carpet with a guilty stare before I closed the door.
A pair of twin beds with jellybean bright blankets and sheets sat under a large window that looked out over a quaint back garden, but I didn’t care about the view. The thought of sleeping in a real bed was all that mattered to me right now.
Lacey shrunk back against the wall, and I realized that the sunrise was coming straight through the window and spilling over the beds. I jumped forward and pulled the curtains closed, twisting them together at the edges to prevent any stray sunbeams from sneaking through.
Lacey smiled broadly, threw her backpack on the ground and jumped for one of the beds, landing spread-eagle on the teal coverlet.
“This is going to be so great! Like a girl’s trip! I haven’t been on one in ages, and the last time I went anywhere with my friends it was to Florida to go lay on the beach...”
“I’ve never been anywhere,” I said, sitting on the second twin bed. Lacey
rolled over and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest as she kicked off her shoes.
“Well, we’ve been lots of places in the last few months. You’ve been to Spain... and New York, and now New Orleans! I’d say that’s pretty exciting.”
I shrugged. “I guess, but it’s not like we’ve done any sightseeing or anything.”
“We can do that stuff,” Lacey said with a yawn. “There’s a bunch of great stuff to see here. I promise, tonight we’ll find something fun to do, okay?”
Lacey flipped back the coverlet and crawled into the bed. She’d be asleep in minutes, it was totally unfair. It always took me hours to fall asleep at night, and it would be even harder during the day. I was bone tired, but the French Quarter was just waking up, and I would have some time to get my bearings so we weren’t wandering blind when Lacey woke up.
“Sure, Lace,” I said with a sigh. I picked up the room key from the bedside table and rubbed it on my jeans.
Glitter. Everywhere.
Great.
The smell of baking filled the air as I wandered down the empty sidewalks towards the Mississippi. A few coffee shops were starting to open their doors, but there wasn’t really anyone around yet.
I walked through the Quarter without giving much thought to where I was going. Ophelia had been nagging me about giving in to my instincts and letting my magic guide me. I’d always sort of done that, but before I’d known what I was, I just thought I was lucky. If I’d known it was this, I’d have listened to my gut more often.
I stopped at the edge of Jackson Square and closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of jasmine, fresh cut grass and the Mississippi River beyond.
Come on. Show me where to go.
My vision in the scrying bowl hadn’t come with a GPS, but I was hoping that something would surface, that something (anything) would tug at my magic and pull me in the right direction.
Nothing.
I waited a few minutes more, thankful that the square was deserted. I must have looked ridiculous standing there with my palms up and my chin tilted towards the sky.
Iiiiiidiot.
I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth as I tried to concentrate harder.
Still nothing.
Typical.
I opened my eyes carefully and let out a frustrated breath. Ophelia would tell me that it hadn’t worked because I’m shit at quieting my mind. That I’m not patient enough. But I couldn’t help it. Concentrating was boring.
The river was close, just across the road. Maybe that was what my magic wanted... I shrugged and headed in the direction of the quiet street, dodging a few slow-moving vehicles as I did so.
The river lapped against a wide flight of concrete steps. The promenade was empty except for a few people who were out for an early morning jog or dog walk as the sun rose.
The river would be busy soon enough, but right now, it was calm. Maybe that’s what I’d been missing. After the streets of New York, always crowded, always noisy, New Orleans was a breath of fresh air. I’d never experienced anything like it. Seattle was a busy city, but it was nothing compared to the constant hum of the veins of New York. New Orleans felt different too. The streets felt strange under the soles of my boots and the stair I’d sat myself on felt different under my palms as I rested my hands on the concrete.
I flipped a loose stone into the water, smiling as a crowd of chatty ducks moved forward to see if I was planning to feed them.
“Sorry, guys. Bread’s bad for you anyway,” I said with an apologetic smile, flicking another rock into the river.
“The Mighty Mississippi,” I said quietly, dangling my feet down so that the soles of my boots brushed against the surface of the water.
As my feet touched the river, something twisted inside me and the witchmark above my elbow started to burn.
I gasped and yanked my feet back, jumping up from my seat. What if I’d been followed? Ophelia would never let me hear the end of it if the Malleus had tracked me here. My head whipped around, trying to get my bearings. I half-expected to see burly men in trench coats come barreling down the promenade towards me, but I was alone.
A woman with a German Shepherd jogged by, her ponytail whipping behind her as she ran by, the steady crunch of her shoes on the gravel matching the lapping of the Mississippi against the manmade bank.
No men in trench coats.
No danger.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and rubbed my arm.
“What the fuck was that about,” I muttered, sitting down again and staring back out over the river. The ducks had scattered, startled by my mini freak out. “Okay, let’s try that again. I’m ready this time.”
At least, I think I am.
I took a deep breath and braced my hands on the concrete as I lowered my feet gingerly towards the water again. My boots touched the surface and I closed my eyes tightly as the twist happened again. This time I let it twist and tried to reach out with my magic as the vision in the scrying bowl rushed over me.
The woman with long red hair was standing behind her counter again, but this time she was moving. She straightened books and lit candles, but I still couldn’t see her face.
A huge stuffed owl clung to a perch beside the counter. I watched the woman, Vivienne; reach out to stroke its wing. As soon as her finger touched its feathers, her head turned sharply and she looked straight at me.
“Who are you?” she cried. Her eyes were wide and flashed with anger. “Why are you watching me?” She touched one of the many charms that were draped around her neck and my witchmark burned painfully.
“I call you out, coward!” The woman’s fingers tightened on the charm she was holding “I call you out! Come forward and face me.” She muttered something I couldn’t hear and the vision began to fade as she raised the charm in front of her face.
My eyes flew open and I gasped for air, realizing with a start that the Mighty Mississippi had flowed into my boots and my socks were soaked.
“Shit!” I jumped up, my boots leaving puddles where they landed. “Shit.”
“Are you all right, sugar?” A concerned jogger with a confused look on her face leaned down from the boardwalk to look at me.
“No, no. I mean yes,” I stammered. “Everything’s fine. I’m just a little... wet.”
The woman smiled sympathetically, but didn’t look convinced.
“You don’t want to be takin’ a swim in there, trust me on that,” she said before that same look of parental concern flickered over her features. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
I smiled weakly. “Yeah, just fine. Thanks.”
“Don’t worry, honey, once the sun gets its act together you’ll be dry in no time.” She waved and jogged away as I grimaced in response.
I ran my hands through my hair and tried to take stock of what the hell was going on. I’d had another vision. A better one. If nothing else, I knew I was on the right track. The bad news, Vivienne Surette knew that I was coming, or at least she knew someone was coming, and she didn’t seem too pleased about it.
For the first time since leaving New York, I wished that Ophelia was here. She’d know how to deal with this woman. She’d be pissed at me, sure, but she’d still know what to do.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I should probably take advantage of being on my own to make sure I was taken care of… Lacey would be preoccupied with her own search tonight, and if she took off on her own to hunt or follow someone, I needed to be prepared, and that meant food, and sleep. As soon as the sun went down, she’d be rearing to go.
I followed my nose back into the Quarter. Croissants were a recently acquired weakness, and there was no sense resisting them now.
As I zeroed in on a café that had a window full of the fat flaky pastries I wanted so desperately I felt that familiar twist inside me. As though my spine wanted to go in the opposite direction my body was taking it.
With a groan I stopped short of the café and turned in the direction I was be
ing pulled. I walked hesitantly down a narrow alley that seemed like an afterthought more than a design choice, the brick walls of the buildings around me seeming to curve inwards as they rose above. I stopped in front of a wooden door that had been painted a deep indigo blue. The knob looked ancient, but the brass was highly polished, as though hands had been turning it for hundreds of years.
The shop’s windows were decorated with strings of tiny lights and butterflies made of gaudily dyed feathers. Resin sculptures of fairies with silly expressions on their faces hung from flower garlands and pewter dragons with moonstones imbedded in their foreheads glared balefully at me from the display shelves.
I wrinkled my nose.
Tacky.
I reached out and tugged on the knob before noticing the hand-lettered CLOSED sign in the window.
Obviously. It’s barely morning.
I looked closer at the indigo door. Symbols I recognized in a vague way had been hand-painted on the painted surface in gold paint. My witchmark throbbed as I reached out to touch one of the symbols above the keyhole.
“Excuse me?”
I snatched my hand back and spun around, my cheeks burning. An older man stood at the entrance to the alley, his thick arms crossed over his chest as he stared at me.
“What are you doing?” He asked suspiciously.
“Me? Nothing.” I looked around desperately and pointed at the shop window. Something moved in the shadows and my tongue froze to the roof of my mouth for just a second. “Window shopping,” I finally blurted out. “I’ve been hunting for those fairies everywhere… I have a collection.” I was babbling, and the man looked utterly bored by what I was saying. The smell of dried herbs and magic… the smells of Ophelia’s kitchen, was coming from the shop and my fingers itched to try the door handle again.
“Whatever you say, cher,” he said, waving a hand in a non-committal gesture. “Vivienne opens her shop whenever she feels like it. ‘Libre que le vent,’ that’s what she calls it.”
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