Page 94 of Samhain Savior
Archer paused a second longer, then released my wrist, gesturing me to go ahead. I shot him a teasingly dirty look, letting him know his permission hadn’t been requested, but he only smirked at me, tucking his hands behind his back as he leaned over my shoulder to watch.
Holding the letter over the flame once more, I moved the paper from side to side, slowly lowering it closer to the candle with each pass.
Sure enough, as soon as the flame got close enough to the paper, the letters began to rearrange themselves, some changing shape and size, others disappearing all together, melting into the parchment as if they were never there.After a few moments, a new phrase appeared, this one only two words long.
“Sweet Baptiste?” I asked, confused. “What’s that?”
“Not what,” Archer grumbled, clearly unhappy with the revelation. “Who.”
“Sweet Baptiste is a person?” I asked, excited. “And you know him?”
“Yeah.” Archer stood straight, running a hand through his hair. “Or Iknew ofhim anyway.” Looking at me, he sighed, sounding dejected. “He’s dead.”
Chapter forty-three
Delilah
“Man, I love the smell of sin and debauchery in the morning.”
Vine stepped past me, leaving the shadow gate in a hurry and drawing a deep breath of the cool, damp New Orleans air. We exited the gate and found ourselves standing on a narrow street, the early morning sun having barely crested the tops of the buildings around us. Looking up, I took in the classic architecture of the French Quarter, the eclectic mix of French, Spanish, and Creole styles creating an explosion of bright colors and wrought iron flourishes that brought a smile to my face.
It was beautiful, even if the gutters were cluttered with empty glasses and other assorted trash from the previous evening’s frivolities.
I’d spent a little time in Louisiana before—Heidi and I had visited nearly every corner of the continent at one time or another over the years—but I’d never actually made it to New Orleans. The legendary city was known for its supernatural history, and as such, typically boasted a higher population of various magical creatures and beings on a day to day basis. After we’d been ousted by a few covens and communities, Heidi had thought it best if we just stayed away from the magical community all together, so the city was one of the places she’d studiously avoided.
It seemed no one wanted to be around a witch who couldn’t access her magic. It made people act weird, as though my ineptitude would rub off on them or something.
Which was ridiculous, because it turned out the problem hadn’t been me at all. If Archer’s theory was correct, and I’d been bound from accessing my powers, then what they really should have been worried about was the powerful witches, not the powerless ones.
“Don’t wander off,” Archer instructed, causing Vine to halt in his tracks.
“But boss,” Vine whined, his shoulders slumping. “I can smell the beignets from here.”
Now that he mentioned it, so could I. Glancing up, I looked at the glowing signs all around us, seeing more than one indicating that coffee and delicious pastries were available. At my chest, Pandora stuck her nose out of her hastily assembled replacement pouch, searching for her own breakfast. We’d left the chalet in such a hurry, none of us had taken the time to eat, as my own rumbling stomach could attest to.
“And you’ll get them,” Archer assured Vine, casting a glance at my hungry, hungry hedgehog at the same time. “But you know the rules. No exploring the city until we’ve met with our contact.”
“Contact?” I asked.
“We’re not on home turf any more,” Vine offered, leaning against a brick wall painted with a faded mural of a Mardi Gras mask in purple, green, and gold. “This is Murmur territory now.”
“Oh. Of course.” I nodded, pretending that I knew what he was talking about. “Murmur. Right.”
Corson chuckled, shaking his head.
“Murmur is the name of the demon who rules this territory for theUmbra Fratrum,” he offered kindly. “Each area has a ruling faction of the Brotherhood, like ours, whoare in charge of patrolling and protecting the citizens in their district. It’s generally expected that when you cross into another factions zone you announce your presence and intentions, so that there’s no confusion as to why four powerful demons suddenly showed up where they don’t belong.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said honestly. “Demon politics are so complicated.”
“You have no idea,” Archer muttered, his eyes scanning the empty streets around us. “Mal. A little help, if you please?”
Reaching into his shirt, Mal once again produced the compass, holding it out to Archer with a bored look on his face. Archer took it, held it up, turned in a circle, and frowned. Shaking the compass, he spun it again, a low growl crawling out of his throat before he gave up and handed it back to Mal.
“It’s broken,” he stated, annoyed. “The needle just kept pointing back at me.”
“It’s not broken,” Mal affirmed quietly, looking at the face of the compass where the needle was spinning in a lazy circle. “And it wasn’t pointing at you.” He tucked the compass back under his shirt, pressing his palm against it for a second before turning to look at me where I stood close to Archer, his head tilted in that inquisitive way hehad. “It still works, Archer. It just won’t work foryouany more.”
“And why not?” Archer spat, a familiar scowl on his face.
