by AJ Merlin
The other, rational part of me knew that if I found something out of my depth, I’d be in big trouble.
Thirty minutes later, when I tucked myself into bed and tuned into the rhythmic snores of Aveline down the hall, I promised myself that this time, I’d listen to the others.
Tomorrow would be boring. Just me, Aveline, and some awful movies.
It would be great.
“If you sleep much longer, you will be unsalvageable.” The voice was curt, impatient, and only a little familiar.
I groaned, rolling over and pulling my knees up to my chest. The full moon was barely over, and surely I was due for a day to sleep in. “Go ‘way, Av,” I mumbled. “I’m sleeping in.” It was my day off. I could sleep until noon if I was so inclined.
And I was definitely inclined.
Suddenly the blankets were pulled off of me and a woman sighed.
“Shall I get Kriminel here? Perhaps his ghostly charms are more to your taste, George?”
My blue eyes flew open and I sat up, the world spinning for a moment as I tried to make sense of everything around me. I was in my room. That was expected. And in bed. Still mostly asleep.
My gaze landed on Marinette Bras Cheche herself standing in the middle of my abode, hands resting on her slim hips as she glared me down.
“You know, I read that the Loa were legends,” I informed her, still blinking sleep out of my brain. “As in, most people don’t see you at all. And if they do, it’s once. We’re on like, visit number three.”
“Aren’t you grateful?” She asked in a voice that was not at all friendly. “To be so lucky?”
“No. I’m tired. I have a plan for the day.”
“I heard. You’re going to watch movies with your witch cousin and not go looking for our killer tonight. Am I right?”
“If we’re going to continue this…whatever it is.” I gestured between us. “I’m going to need you to stop listening in on my conversations and let me catch you up like a normal person.”
She raised a brow. I stared at her slightly, unsure if the nausea stirring in my stomach was unease because of her, or simply morning queasiness.
It could’ve been either. Or a combination.
“There’s a gala tonight, which I believe you know about, yes?” Marinette asked, sitting down on the chair in front of my small vanity. She crossed her legs primly, back straight, and her eyes never left me.
Dressed in a snug black dress and heels, she didn’t fit in at all with me and my room.
“Right. Big supernatural thing, yes? I’ve been told about it a few times now.” I fought back a yawn and stood, scratching my thigh.
Obviously I couldn’t force her out of my room, but I wasn’t going to stand on ceremony around her when, so far, she didn’t seem to want to hurt me.
Just Merric.
I couldn’t understand why she’d taken to showing up while I slept, and I couldn’t help the worry I felt at having such a guest popping in whenever she wanted.
“But you aren’t going. Even though there will be many sources of powerful magic there. Voodoo, witch, vampire, and everything else. Is that right?” She went on carefully
“That is very right. I didn’t get an invitation.” I wasn’t jealous. I totally wasn’t jealous.
A grin curled at her lips and she held up a hand. As I watched, flames licked at her fingers and slowly a square, white envelope materialized between her pointer and middle finger.
“You got invited, I take it?” I wasn’t surprised. She was a Loa.
“This isn’t for me,” Marinette said slowly, her crimson eyes bright in the early morning light. “I went to a friend of mine last night and procured it. They don’t send them to any of us anymore. We’ve made it clear we do not wish to go.”
She held it out precariously between her two fingers.
Taking the bait, I took a few steps forward and reached out to take it in my hand.
The envelope was smooth under my fingers, and when I turned it over I saw writing in very neat black letters.
Georgette Levasseur.
A thrill shot through my body. I glanced up at Marinette, who nodded at it.
“Only powerful supernaturals get these,” I murmured, opening the envelope and pulling out the card it held.
It was thick, like two of my tarot cards stacked together, and solid black. A golden border had been engraved in the card, and the letters were gold engraved as well.
You have been invited.
Friday, September 14th.
9pm.
The Tessoro Estate.
I squinted at the card. Was that magic I could see running through the letters?
“Won’t they know I’m not supposed to be there?” I pointed out. “Since I’m, you know. Me?”
The Loa gazed at me, unimpressed. “Last night I informed my friend on the North American council of the Supernatural that the only living Levasseur summoner resided in New Orleans,” she explained slowly. “I informed her that you have three cards of the Major Arcana, and the distinction of being a hybrid that survived all the way to adulthood. I don’t need to tell you how uncommon you are, do I?”
I wasn’t so sure I liked her telling other people about me and what I was.
“You do not,” I sighed, running my fingers over the gold letters. “But…” I looked around my room, biting my bottom lip. “Not to sound like Cinderella here, but I don’t have anything to wear.”
“And your hair looks dreadful,” Marinette agreed.
“Thanks.”
“That is why I told you to get up. Much longer and even I won’t be able to help…this.” She waved her hand at me dismissively.
“Help what?” I asked, frown curving my lips.
“This. All of this, just…” she stood. “So you’ll go? You have to RSVP one way or the other.”
“If you really think I can find something to wear and can figure out what to do with–“ I made the same motion as she had, only exaggerated, at myself. “This. Then yes. I’ll go.”
Not just to look for her killer, but I wouldn’t say that.
“We’ll do something,” she promised. “Now, RSVP.”
When I stared at her blankly, she raised a perfect brow. “Flip the card over.”
I did so, seeing golden letters on the back. Smaller than the ones on the front, they were jagged in comparison to the flowing, elegant script of the other side of the invitation.
Will you be attending, Georgette Levasseur?
Yes. No.
“Do I tap the yes like a button?” I murmured, doing just that.
“No, George,” the Loa sighed. She came towards me, a small knife suddenly in her hand.
“Uh.” I took a step back but she only held it up in front of her, the blade looking too decorative to be used as more than a fancy letter opener.
“Prick your own finger, then.” She reached her hand towards me, transferring the blade to her palm. “And smear the blood over the yes.
“This seems so unnecessarily dramatic,” I muttered, taking the knife and setting my teeth against the inevitable pain.
It could’ve been a lot worse, I reasoned, as I stuck the tip of the blade into the pad of my middle finger. I healed instantly, and it didn’t hurt much. But there was something so different in purposefully stabbing myself for a little blood and getting hurt in the middle of a fight.
I did as she said, smearing the blood over the gold engraved ‘yes.’
“What now?” I asked, just before the card heated in my hand. I gasped when the paper leapt from my fingers, contorting in mid air until it was the perfect likeness of an origami bird.
Then, in a shower of white spark, it vanished.
“That was it,” Marinette shrugged, taking her knife back. “Get dressed.” She stared at my me, scrutinizing every inch of my body.
That look terrified me a little. I laughed off her words, praying they were a joke, and gestured to the still-closed door. “They’re in the bathroom.
Let me change and I’ll put them in, okay?”
She flapped her hands at me, but didn’t move except to sit back down at my vanity and survey herself in the mirror.
Snorting, I shook my head and stepped into my closet. I was glad it was big enough for me to shut the door behind me, and did so before pulling out a pair of denim shorts and a grey t-shirt.
When I reemerged, now dressed and pulling on sneakers, she looked me over.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t count on you having anything to wear in your closet,” the Loa remarked.
I couldn’t help but sigh. Her insults weren’t half-sweet, like Akiva’s, who normally just wanted to rile me up to tease me. No. She seemed to insult me for her own pleasure, or simply just to do it.
“Sorry, O Great Loa, for not reading your mind before tonight. May we exit to the foyer so that I may brush my unworthy teeth?” I bowed mockingly.
For the first time, the hint of a true smile flickered across her lips. As if she enjoyed being spoken to like we were either friends or hated cousins.
“Lead the way,” she invited, and I opened my bedroom door, stepping out into the hallway ahead of her. In the living room, the television was on, though I couldn’t understand the language, much less the channel. I made my way towards it, pausing at the mouth of the hallway that led to our bedrooms and Aveline’s workout room.
My cousin herself stood leaning against the wall to my left, her blue eyes on the figure who sat on our couch. She sipped her coffee, face solemn, and still wore her pajama shorts and loose sweater.
Baron Kriminel was on our sofa, intent on the tv. He was dressed just as well as Marinette, in dark jeans and a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“…Cousin,” I greeted, nodding at Aveline as I stopped beside her.
“George, may I ask you something?” Aveline asked, not taking her eyes off of the Loa on our couch.
“You may,” I allowed as Marinette went past me.
Aveline watched her, and blinked.
“Am I dreaming?” My cousin asked finally.
“Not to my knowledge, no.” Unless I was dreaming too, I supposed.
“Wonderful. One more question.” Aveline sipped her coffee. “What in the world is sitting on my sofa, and how did it get in without tripping my wards, alerting either of us, or unlocking the door?”
“Ah.” I cleared my throat. Trying to come up with a plausible answer that wouldn’t be too unbelievable. “Well, Aveline. Greatest cousin in the history of the world. That right there would be a Loa.”
She stared at me, lips pressed flat. “A what?”
“Oh. A Loa is–“
“I know what a Loa is, George,” Aveline interrupted impatiently. “I live in New Orleans, not under a rock.”
When I glanced at the Baron Kriminel, I saw that he was gazing at us with amusement clear on his face.
“Well…he’s a Loa. And so is she.” I pointed to both of them in turn. “Also, I’m going to have to cancel our plans for tonight. It seems I have an appointment.”
“In a Loa’s bed?” Aveline assumed. “You know, I thought I’d be the one with a harem way before you. Was it that night at Euphoric? Was that your poly awakening? And what do the others think of competing against deities?”
“Oh, cher,” Kriminel’s voice was a low purr. I expected him to correct her on the spot. “There is no competition, I can assure you of that.”
“That’s not helping, “ I sighed, pressing my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “Av, I’m not sleeping with them. I’m not interested in sleeping with them, and they aren’t trying to win me into their beds. I’m helping them with something.”
“You're helping….the Loa,” Aveline repeated.
“Yep.”
“You?”
Kriminel’s smile widened considerably.
“I am, in fact. That’s why I’m going with them now, and why I’m going to some stupid party later.”
Admittedly, I was a little excited. What would it be like? A gala for the powerful and the preternatural had to be luxurious, to say the very least.
“Please tell me you are not going to the Gala held by the North American council tonight,” Aveline requested, surprising me with her knowledge of it.
“Yeah. I am, actually. Sorry, Marinette only brought one invite–“
“Goddess bless, George. I’m so glad you were born the summoner and not me. That’s a lot of ‘no thank you.’” She shuddered, then shuddered again.
“Can we leave soon?” Marinette interrupted, standing by the door and very obviously itching to leave. “I told you we have things to do, or you won’t be going tonight.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m sorry,” I mumbled, holding my hands up in surrender. I wasn’t really that sorry. While any of my friends getting angry or treating me like I didn’t belong made me all kinds of upset, Marinette’s words were starting to just go in one ear and out the other.
I quickly brushed my teeth before coming back out into the living room to face her again.
Aveline was seated cross-legged on the sofa, her eyes fixed on Baron Kriminel.
He pretended to ignore her, but it was easy to see his half-hidden smile and sideways looks towards my cousin.
“Where do you live?” Aveline asked abruptly. “And how did you get in here without tripping my alarms.”
“I live in a house, just like you,” Kriminel replied. “And I did so because I am very, very good.” His town was low. Husky and….purring?
Marinette watched me, her red eyes gleaming like an angry cat’s until I stood beside her at the door. “Are you coming?” She demanded of the other Loa.
“Hadn’t thought I would,” Kriminel shrugged. “That’s more your thing, after all.” He turned his bright blue eyes on Aveline. “And I’m sure the witch won’t mind me staying here.”
She looked at him over her coffee, her legs drawn up under her, and I prepared for her scathing reply. “You can stay,” she shrugged. “Do you want coffee?”
What?
I tried to catch her eye, but Aveline very carefully avoided looking at me.
Was her question about me sleeping with them not quite so benevolent as I’d thought? Had she been worried for my safety, or interested for herself?
I opened my mouth to say something about the dangers of letting a Loa stay in the house, and the probable perils of making eyes at one over your coffee cup, but clamped my lips together a second later.
Like I was one to talk. How many times now had Marin warned me off of Merric, for all the good it did?
“Priceless,” Marinette muttered, extending a hand to me. “You remember Samedi’s travel spell, yes?”
“I do,” I sighed, putting my hand in hers. “I hated it.”
She smirked. “This is nothing like that.” Magic gathered in her palm, and suddenly I was yanked off my feet.
Chapter 14
“You don’t like it,” Marinette sat down behind me, watching my face through the three paneled mirror I was standing at.
“It’s a lot, is all,” I denied. “Give a girl a chance to adjust.” I spun slowly, the heavy fabric of the dress I wore rustling around me.
This really was a lot. In the mere span of five hours, Marinette had spirited me to some corner of New Orleans that I’d never walk into myself. I was sure I couldn’t even afford parking in this area. Let alone buying something.
But we hadn’t just gone places with her dragging me from one shop to another. She’d gone out of her way to buy me everything she said I’d need for the night, including shoes, accessories, hair coloring, and Goddess knew what else.
Now I stood in front of a mirror at the fanciest dress boutique I’d ever seen, only half recognizing the woman in the mirror.
The pink was gone from my hair, and the stylist had toned it so that the blonde had lightened to platinum silver. If I looked very closely, I could still see the hint of blonde, but only just. It made my skin look paler, in my op
inion.
The Loa had made the poor stylist redo my makeup four times until finally she had been satisfied with the look. Now my eyes were lined heavily and set off by silver and dark mauve eyeshadow. With the liner, my blue eyes looked almost impossibly bright. My lips were dark and full under the matte burgundy lipstick. I wasn’t so sure how I felt about it, as I never wore anything more than eyeliner myself.
And now I stood in a dress. It wasn’t that I never wore dresses. I probably owned one. Somewhere.
But I certainly didn’t own one like this.
The sleeveless top of the solid black dress was edged in lace and lay flush against my skin, hugging me tightly down to my hips. I’d thought for sure I wouldn’t be able to breathe, but the fabric was comfortable, and easy to move in. At my hips, the dress flared outward in a multitude of ruffled, still lacy fabric. It stopped in the front at the length of a short skirt, showing off black tulle that lent the skirt volume. At the sides it cascaded down until the black lace of the back brushed the floor behind me.
“I won’t be chasing down any killers in these,” I informed Marinette, lifting one of my feet that was trapped in black four-inch heels. The heel itself was solid gold, and matched the fine gold chains that went around my ankles.
“If it comes to that, take the shoes off,” Marinette shrugged, lifting her hand dismissively.
I loved the outfit, truthfully. But it was so strange to see this woman in the mirror that reminded me more of beautiful Aveline than me.
But no. That was definitely me, not my cousin, staring back at me.
“Do you like it?” The saleswoman asked, a very nice woman with her hair in a French braid and yellow eyes. “I can find something else for you, if you don’t.”
“I love it,” I breathed, lifting the fabric of the skirt slightly so I could run my fingers over the heavy lace.
“But I also can’t afford it,” I told Marinette. “And it’s going to take me weeks to pay you back for the rest of this.”
The Loa got to her feet, her raised brow the definition of condescension.
“I can assure you that this amount of money means nothing to me,” Marinette informed me. “Don’t think of paying me back for this, or anything else.” She walked around me, examining me like I was some kind of show pony.