Page 10 of Vows & Violence
Mama Dusk doesn’t blink. “You mean the dead man in the alley?”
Yeah. That one.
She watches us like we’re ink stains she’s trying to read. “You’ve stirred something,” she says. “Now it stirs back.”
Ghost enters the room like a shadow trailing smoke. His face is tight and pale. Something happened to him, but I don’t ask. Not yet. I step closer, like I can shield him with my presence alone.
“Your boy saw a corpse blink,” Mama Dusk adds. “Didn’t he?”
Ghost doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
She lights a bundle of dried herbs, sage, maybe, but it smells wrong. Like burning hair and scorched sugar.
“You don’t understand the kind of war you’re in. Not yet.” She slides a rough, hand-drawn map onto the table, written in blood red ink. Five spirals are arranged like points of a compass. “These are nexuses. Places where the veil between the world andwhat’s underneathis thin. Someone’s trying to tear it open.”
She points to one spot:the meatpacking plant.
“You’ve already been to one. You bled there. That opened it.”
Another point:St. Roch Cemetery. Tonight. Midnight.
“They’ll try again. Bigger this time. Blood feeds it. Fear fuels it.”
I clench my fists, fighting the instinct to shut it all out. But Ghost’s hand finds mine under the table, and I let him ground me.
“I don’t believe in demons,” I whisper.
Mama Dusk leans forward. “Don’t need to believe in fire to get burned, baby girl.”
We step into the New Orleans night like it might eat us whole. Viper’s pacing. Ghost keeps checking the rooftops. My side still aches from the alley fight.
“I’m going to the cemetery,” Ghost says. “Tonight. Before midnight. Alone if I have to.”
“No.” My voice is flat steel. “That’s not how we’re doing this.”
He turns to me, jaw set. “You said it yourself, something’s riding this. It’s not just Vale anymore.”
“I’m not arguing that.” I take a step closer. “But if this thing kills you, I don’t crawl back from that.”
Ghost flinches like I hit him. But he doesn’t argue.
Before he can answer, the crack of a rifle splits the air.
“DOWN!” Viper grabs Ghost. I dive behind the parked food truck just as another shot blows out the headlight.
I peek out. They’re on the rooftop two buildings over, wearing masks. An intricate tattoo is visible even from here. A spiral inked over one eye.
“Move!” I shout. “Back alley!”
We run. Ghost shields me, hand at my back. Viper covers us, laying down return fire with her compact Glock.
A round hits my shoulder. I grunt and stumble. Ghost catches me before I fall.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“You’re bleeding,” he growls.
“So are you. Shut up and keep moving.”
