Page 24 of Langiappe & Lost Legends

Then there was that room full of magical gadgets and gizmos that would make Dumbledore jealous. And apparently, we were supposed to guard some fancy crystal like we were the witchy version of the Secret Service. Right. Because six women who'd grown up thinking magic was something you saw at kids'birthday parties were totally qualified for that job. That was Nylah’s job as the Relic Keeper.

I'd have bet my last dollar on finding Bigfoot doing the macarena in our back forty before believing we were some magical crystal guardians. Yet here we were, hip-deep in Hogwarts, the Bayou Edition. The converted house reeked of dried herbs like some kind of witchy Bed Bath & Beyond. Lavender was supposed to be calming, but right now it was doing jack squat for my nerves. I jammed more rosemary into the jar, probably bruising half of it. Oops, my bad. We needed the protection more than we needed pretty herbs.

I grabbed the bag of marshmallow root we'd scored for the kids' healing potion. Not that I was opposed to making magical boo-boo juice. My grandkids were always getting scraped up. I’d feel better if our kids had something should the worst happen and I wasn’t around to help. Grinding the root would be a bitch, but hey, at least it gave my hands something to do while my brain spun like a hamster on crack.

The mason jars lined up like good little soldiers, all neat and labeled because my sisters were anal like that. Honestly, I was too, but not as much as Kota and Phi. Next to them sat our baby grimoire. It was leather-bound and trying so hard to look mysterious and important. It was too new to be anything of the sort. Now that we knew about our witchy bloodline, every chicken scratch in that thing felt like it might be the key to something bigger. It made me wonder if there was an older family spell book floating around. Maybe collecting dust in that room we'd only half-assed searched?

I was still up at ass o'clock, destroying perfectly good marshmallow root, when Phi exploded through the door like she'd been shot out of a cannon. Her hair had staged a full-scale rebellion against her pristine braid. And her eyes were doing that whole dinner-plate thing that screamed, 'Oh shit’.

"Dre, you need to see this. Now." She was panting and sweating.

Something in her voice had me dropping everything and following her outside. The early morning air was thick with humidity that pressed against my skin like a wet blanket. That wasn't what made it feel heavy. Power thrummed through the atmosphere. It made my healing abilities tingle uncomfortably beneath my skin. It was like the warning ache in old bones before a storm.

We hauled ass back to the main house, where everyone else was already doing their best impression of a paranormal neighborhood watch. Dani was trying to merge her hands with the porch railing. Her knuckles were whiter than a vampire's ass. Kota and Lia were playing bodyguard on either side of her, while Dea was getting her Zen on in the porch swing. It looked like she was either deep in meditation or fighting a food coma. The sunrise was doing that whole dramatic lighting thing. That really wasn't helping the whole 'we're so screwed' vibe everyone was rocking.

"What's with the doom squad..." I started, then followed their thousand-yard stares. "Well, holy shit on a shingle."

The Mississippi River had apparently decided physics was more of a suggestion than a rule. That massive stretch of water was having some kind of aquatic seizure. It was twisting and turning like an epileptic snake. Parts of it were straight-up giving gravity the middle finger and flowing backward. It looked like it was auditioning for a role in ‘Rivers Gone Wild’.

"It’s been at it for an hour," Kota said. She sounded about as relaxed as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. "The animals are losing their collective shit. The birds are as bad as the dogs." I noticed how the six French bulldogs were growling and snipping at nothing. That wasn’t unusual for Kota’s three Frenchies. ButFrida was always cool as a cucumber. Dani was trying to corral her with her foot, to no avail.

"So are the squirrels," Lia chimed in as she looked over at one of the massive oak trees. "They're running around like they just discovered caffeine. Not like their usual ADHD selves, either. This is next-level nuts. Pun not intended, but I'm keeping it."

"It's the crystal," Dani added, never taking her eyes off the river. "It has to be. Sure, that storm woke up a multitude of things we have yet to discover, but the timing of this fits with the Lost Legends."

Dea's eyes suddenly snapped open. They were glowing faintly with her spiritual energy. "We have company."

“Is it Cami’s mom?” I asked as I looked around.

Dea lifted her shoulders as the air around us shimmered. Translucent figures materialized on our lawn. Several ethereal women with flowing hair that moved like underwater currents hovered there. Their skin had a bluish tint that shifted with the light. Their eyes reflected the unnatural movements of the river behind them. Some appeared younger, with features as fluid as spring rain. Others bore the weathered look of ancient riverbeds.

"They’re water spirits," Phi breathed.

"River nymphs,” Lia clarified. “The legends say they're as old as the Mississippi itself."

“How the hell do you guys know that? I thought they were ghosts since Dea knew they were coming.” I flapped my arms and gestured to our visitors.

The tallest of them stepped forward before my sisters responded. Her movements rippled with grace. Unlike her companions, who seemed to drift with an underwater fluidity, she moved with purpose. Her presence carried the weight of centuries. It made me think of the accumulated wisdom of the river itself. Patterns like riverbank erosions marked hertranslucent skin. Her body told stories of floods and droughts, of changes and constants.

"Children of two bloodlines," she spoke in a voice like water over stones. "We come with a warning. The Larmes du Bayou corrupts the natural flow of magic. The river remembers its true course, but the crystal's power pulls against time itself. This will not end well if it is left unchecked."

"We know about the time manipulation," Lia muttered as she pushed away from the railing to pace. "How can they affect the magic and the river like this? I mean, isn't that like forbidden, or something?"

The river spirit's expression darkened. The water patterns in her eyes swirled faster. "They should not. And cannot, without consequence. The artifacts they stole have amplified the crystal's power beyond its limits. They will be able to fully bend time to their will. Magic has its own flow, its own current. Force it too far..."

"And everything breaks," I finished. My instincts were screaming at the wrongness of it all. "Like a dam giving way. The damage would spread beyond just the timeline they're targeting, wouldn't it?"

The river spirit's companions moved closer. Their forms rippled with agitation. The one wearing what looked like centuries-old Spanish colonial dress reached out to touch the air near Dea. My sister’s gasp made every protective instinct in my body flare to life. "They're showing me where there’s a disturbance," Dea said. Her eyes went distant and started reflecting the same watery patterns as the spirits. "I can see the trail the Lost Legends left through their memories. They’ve left a scar in the river's history."

"Power is concentrated in an old warehouse," another nymph said in a voice like rainfall on a tin roof. She wore the tattered remains of nineteen-twenties fashion. It made me wonder ifthese nymphs were once women. Was that how Dea felt about their approach? "Where the industrial canal meets the river. Time bends there and folds upon itself. The water remembers what was, what is, and what should not be. Time is running out."

I shared a look with my sisters. We'd learned enough about our heritage last night to know we couldn't ignore this. The Smith determination and Yearsley intuition weren't just fancy words in an old journal. They were calling us to action. They were thrumming in our blood like a second heartbeat.

"We need a plan," I said, already mentally cataloging our potion supply. The marshmallow root I'd been grinding and the protective sachets I'd prepared through my sleepless night weren't meant for temporal wounds. But they might help ground us. "If they're really manipulating time fully now, we have no idea what kind of damage they could do to themselves or others."

"Or reality itself," Phi added grimly. Her fingers traced patterns in the air as if trying to map invisible energy flows. "The artifacts weren't meant to be used this way. They were designed to work in harmony with the crystal. Forcing it to go against nature's flow goes against everything it was made for. Look at what it's already doing to the river."

As if to emphasize her point, a section of water near the bank suddenly surged upward. It defied gravity for several seconds before crashing back down. Scout and Willow whimpered, pressing closer to Kota's leg.

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