Page 9 of Langiappe & Lost Legends

"We should get moving if we're going to track down this Céleste person," I said as I waved it in front of her. “The card's been burning a hole in my pocket. Literally. I think it's trying to tell us something."

Lia hauled herself up from her chair. She was as relieved as I was to escape. "Now, that's something I can contribute to. The whole discussion about the proper placement of fairy light crystals was beyond me." She shuddered dramatically. "Way beyond me."

"You just don't appreciate the complexities of magical event planning," Dani said with a grin as she grabbed her bag. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I suppose not everyone can be blessed with my impeccable taste."

"I appreciate not having to worry about whether the centerpieces will achieve sentience and start a rebellion," Lia shot back as she bumped Dani's shoulder playfully.

We were halfway to Lia's car when Kota arrived. Her dark hair was styled to perfection, and she had a scowl on her face as she exploded from her vehicle. She really knew how to make an entrance. "If y'all are sneaking off to do something fun without me, I'm gonna be seriously offended," she announced as she moved to the passenger side of Lia’s SUV.

"We’re going to find Céleste. The sooner we figure out what's causing these Lost Legend disturbances, the better. I'm getting real tired of our tourists running into historical figures that shouldn't exist," I explained to her.

"Tell me about it," Kota said as we piled in. "I heard Spencer had to convince a group this morning that they hadn't actually seen Jean Lafitte's ghost ship in the parking lot." Great. Now mykids were having to pick up the pieces. Shit was going sideways fast.

The drive into the city was pure New Orleans chaos. Tourists stumbled into traffic, street performers created impromptu parades, and at least three separate jazz bands competed for airspace. Add to that the appearance of several ghosts and even a few imps.

Lia's creative cursing as she navigated through it all was honestly impressive. I made mental notes of some of her more creative phrases for future use. Kota, the brat, just lounged in her seat filming Lia's road rage for posterity. Dani’s daughter, Genevieve had trained us to record everything so she could create reels for Willowberry’s Instagram page.

The Tremé welcomed us with its usual mix of old-world charm and new-age hipster invasion. We found a parking spot that was probably legal. Hey, in New Orleans, that's always a bit of a gray area. We made our way down streets that pulsed with more than just the usual French Quarter energy.

"This is it?" I asked as I eyed the shopfront wedged between what had to be the most pretentious coffee shop I'd ever seen and a barbershop where every single barber looked like they'd stepped out of a vintage Instagram filter.

The sign above the door read "Céleste's Curiosities" in gold letters that played tricks on your eyes. If you looked straight at them, they were just letters. When you caught them from the corner of your vision, they danced and shifted like they were trying to escape the confines of our reality. Great. One ofthoseplaces.

"Well," Lia muttered, "at least we know it's legitimately magical. No tourist trap would go through the trouble of enchanting their signage to be that annoying."

"Unless they hired that weird guy from Jackson Square," Dani mused. "You know, the one whose city scenes look like New Orleans on a bad acid trip?"

"Oh God, that guy." Lia pinched the bridge of her nose. "I had to convince Leo’s parents that his painting of Marie Laveau breakdancing with zombies wasn't actually based on real events." Lia’s relationship with Leo’s parents had been strained since his death, but they still talked a couple of times a month.

I caught her eye. "It must have been fun trying to explain that one without mentioning the V-word." Voodoo was a touchy subject with Leo's very Catholic parents even before we knew magic was real. Now, it was like trying to navigate a minefield while juggling flaming swords.

"This is it?" Kota redirected back to the task at hand. She was clutching her messenger bag like Jeff might materialize out of it with answers. "Aside from the sign, it looks normal."

"That's probably the point," Phi said as she stepped out of Dea’s car. "The best place to hide is in plain sight."

“Thanks for waiting for us,” Dea said as she joined us.

I inclined my head and pushed open the door. I wasn’t about to tell them I hadn't realized Dani had sent them a text. In my defense, I was exhausted and hadn’t consumed enough caffeine to power a small city.

The shop's bell chimed, and holy mother of awkward magical encounters. My power did the supernatural equivalent of nails on a chalkboard while simultaneously trying to hide behind the metaphysical couch. The energy radiating from it felt like Marie's. If she was having the mother of all bad days and decided to take it out on my magical senses.

The card in my pocket went from ‘concerning warmth’ to ‘oh shit, it's alive’. I was pretty sure it was trying to tap dance its way through my jeans. Either that or it was attempting to communicate in Morse code. Honestly, that wouldn't be theweirdest thing to happen today. Though if it started singing, I was out of there. Emergency mission or not.

The shop's interior looked like someone had taken every magical movie cliché and decided to make them real. However, it was obvious these weren't props for tourists. The crystals actually held power. They hummed like they’d been consuming Lia’s energy drinks. The books were bound in materials I didn't want to think about. My head tilted to the side as I looked at the feline lounging with an open book. Was that three-legged cat actually reading the grimoire?

"Don't stare at Maurice," a voice called from behind a beaded curtain. "He's sensitive about his reading habits."

The woman who emerged looked like she'd stepped out of a vintage photograph. She wore a flowing dress in deep purple. Her silver hair was wrapped in an elaborate head scarf. She was also wearing multiple necklaces that clinked softly as she moved. If I got close enough, would they hum with power?

I pulled out Margaret's card. It wasn’t surprising to see that it was now glowing faintly. It was also trying to communicate in Morse code. "Margaret sent us. She said to tell you the shadows are moving again."

Céleste's expression sharpened like a knife. "Did she now?" Her eyes swept over our group. A brush of her power flowed against us. It was ancient, deep, and about as subtle as a drunk tourist on Bourbon Street. "The Twisted Sisters. I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Ah, our reputation precedes us," Kota said dryly.

"Sugar, in this city? Your reputation practically has its own ZIP code." Céleste moved to the door and flipped the sign to "CLOSED." I gaped at her when she drew a sigil in the air that made the windows frost over. The old magic in the symbol felt like it predated most modern protection spells.

"Look," I said, watching that frost pattern with more than a little concern, "we're here because the city's got a serious case of historical figure infestation. The word is you might know something about how Marie Laveau and her people managed to boot the Lost Legends out of New Orleans the first time around." I paused and took a steadying breath. "We really need that information before the world starts thinking they need to take a closer look at our city."

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