Page 3 of Wicked Love
Jasper
Back at the office, this meeting had seemed like it was going to be no big deal.
Just before I’d left last night, I’d gotten a report. There’d been another grave disturbed last night. What was going on? We took grave robbing seriously here in New Orleans, for many reasons. First among them was that those in the magical world who attempted to use the dead were not people of good intentions. No matter the excuse, or the reason—there were never good reasons for dragging the dead out of their rest.
But who could it be? We’d exiled anyone who showed any sign of such activity. I’d seen that happen myself. While there was a great deal of flexibility in our magical world, there were some boundaries that could not be crossed. Attempting to use the dead was one of them. Outside of all the reasons using the dead was wrong, it also risked the chance that we’d be discovered. Part of our success as a coven was our ability to blend in and not attract notice.
The last known necromancer, who was the mother of one our local coven members, was sent away for her poor choices. When I’d read the report after I’d heard about our recent grave robberies, it noted that she had died within a year of her exile. Her daughter and the rest of her family had been model citizens ever since. Probably because they knew that should anything happen, they would be among the first to be questioned.
The Cormier family was one of the oldest families in both New Orleans and in our coven. They’d been here since the founding of our coven. And despite Sariah Cormier and her banishment, they’d been good citizens in our community.
I hated having to investigate, but if I didn’t, I’d be derelict in my responsibility. As one of the coven librarians, it was my job to not only keep track of the history and records of our coven, but to make sure that we kept to the rules, to the boundaries. That we kept ourselves discreet. That we didn’t draw attention to ourselves.
Grave robbing was not discreet in any way.
Lavinia, my boss, came into my office. We were located in a small estate, by New Orleans standards, near Magnolia House, the coven’s headquarters. We’d found that it was better to have coven leadership and records in two different places. Only the librarians and some of the coven leadership knew our exact location, and we had a lot of wards set over the library.
“What’s this I hear there has been some disturbance?” she asked, seating herself in a chair in front of my desk.
“Good news travels fast,” I said. I’d only had the report for five minutes. “There was an opened grave in St. Louis No. 1.” This was the oldest cemetery in the city, and it had some of the best above ground graves. There was an active restoration process ongoing in the cemetery itself, so there was regular activity in the cemetery—but not at night. That’s what locking the gates and only allowing guided tours was supposed to help. To keep the vandals and those would cause mischief out.
“How was that managed?” Lavinia asked. “They have that cemetery on lockdown.”
“Well, not entirely,” I said with a grin.
“Enough,” she rolled her eyes. Sometimes our coven needed to go to one of the crypts at night, and the new rules had made things more difficult. But we’d been able to work around it. “Enough that dragging a body out would be noticed.”
“Which means,” I said.
“That it was done by magic,” Lavinia finished.
“My thoughts exactly,” I said.
Lavinia shook her head. “I suppose you’d better go and see the Cormiers.”
“You don’t think they’d actually take the chance, do you?” I asked.
“No,” Lavinia got up. “Honestly, I don’t. But if you don’t go see them, the rumors will start, and that will make it difficult for us to find out who is really doing this. We need to be able to state they had nothing to do with it.”
“What?” I asked, laughing a little. “Does that mean you don’t believe the absolute worst of that creepy Cormier family?”
“No,” Lavinia said. “One person isn’t an entire family. But I know exactly how gossip works. You might as well get over there and see the daughter. What’s her name?”
“Melasina,” I said, checking my notes. “Melasina Cormier.”
“Any other children?” Lavina’s brows furrowed.
I shook my head. “No, she is an only child. Dad didn’t remarry. He’s out of the country, by the way. So it’s just her.”
She sighed. “Well, all right then. Go first thing in the morning.” Lavinia breezed out of the room.
That was one of the things I liked best about working for the coven library. There were rules, and boundaries, but there was not a great deal of micromanaging. I’d be free to work this as I chose, as long as I kept Lavinia in the loop.
I looked through my files again. Melasina Cormier was twenty-four, single, lived in the Treme district on Saint Ann, in a small house that had been her family’s home. Her father, after his wife had been exiled, took a job with Tulane University in the history department and ended up traveling. Melasina, who was ten at the time, spent a lot of time with a nanny.
Had her mother realized that she would be depriving her child of both parents through her actions? Shaking my head, I gathered up my files. It was after five; I’d go and see Melasina Cormier before I came in to work tomorrow morning.
Because I agreed with my boss. This had nothing to do with the Cormier family. However, checking them off the list would allow us to find the real culprit and deal with them.
