Blood Mark: Children of the Incubi, #2

By Lana M. Wiggins

In Book II of the Children of the Incubi series, Lily's muses drag her to New Orleans under a ruse she easily falls for, but Samael and Drake's motives are to persuade Lily to continue the Saga which begins in the year 2025. Amon and Marduk have fallen into depression and depravity, but when they attend the Gathering, they plot together against the Elders to win back their Crowns. Marduk's trackers are hot on Samuel's trail, and Declan is sent to New Orleans by the Elders to find the Cambion girl designated to lead the Revolution. But Declan's motives are to find his lost love, Issa. Instead, Declan finds Finn, a long-lost wicked Incubus he must rely upon to complete his commission. Declan meets Caraye Halloran, a Pagan Witch and the mother of the Cambion girl, Jade, whose mysterious father appears in her life for the first time. Declan and Caraye begin an ill-fated romance, but Jade's father has other plans for Caraye, Jade, and her young lover, Killian LeBlanc. Mia, a powerful Voodoo Mambo, is highly suspicious of the two men entering Caraye's life and warns her of impending danger. When the young lovers mysteriously disappear, Declan and the Witches team up with the wicked Incubus no one trusts, but Finn is the only hope Declan has in finding the Cambion girl that will lead him to Issa.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lana M. Wiggins
• Release date: Jan 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9781981429066

Lana M. Wiggins

Lana M. Wiggins is the author of the Children of the Incubi Series, Volumes 1-6, Root. Sprout. Blossom: Life Bag of a Flower-Child, and Notes from Refuge. Lana M. Wiggins received a Master's degree in Creative Writing from the University of Louisiana in 2001, and currently teaches English at Louisiana State University.

Book preview

The Elders Commission

2025

T

oday is the day, Declan. Ye’re going home!" Patrick was surprised that Declan didn’t even bother to look up from his book.

Not falling for it again, Patrick, Declan said quietly.

The Elders want to see ye again. But this time, ye’re going home.

Ye said the same last time. And the time before that. Declan turned the page of his book without moving an inch from the bed.

But I mean it this time, Patrick said with a wide grin as he leaned against Declan’s prison cell, fumbling for the right key.

Ye said that too, Declan said quietly. He wasn’t in the mood for Patrick’s games today.

I really, really mean it this time. The Elders signed your pardon. They only need your signature, and off ye go, back to the Crystal Palace. Say hello to your sister for me. Patrick winked.

Declan tossed aside his book, then walked to the cell door. He leaned down to glare at Patrick with a harsh scowl. I’ll thank ye to keep my sister out of your filthy mind. Unless ye want another taste of my fists, Declan said ominously. I haven’t forgotten who tossed me in here.

Declan fumed angrily and ran his hands through his thick, scruffy beard, then his hair that had been shaved to the scalp on the first day of his imprisonment. Declan had no idea how beautifully his tri-colored hair had grown back, tumbling around his shoulders in a mass of thick waves. There were no mirrors in his prison cell.

It’s been 30 years, Declan. Let it go. Patrick grinned crookedly.

I’m well aware of the time frame, Patrick. And it’s Prince Declan, Declan continued to glare at him without blinking. Patrick lowered his eyes, and blushed bright red.

The Elders have summoned ye. They are releasing ye today. For the Gathering. Your attire, Prince Declan. Ye must be properly dressed before the Elders.

Declan sighed heavily as he stripped off his shirt first, then his pants before he snatched the wool trousers, heavy frockcoat, and dusty boots from Patrick’s hand.

Like what ye see, Patrick? Declan asked sarcastically, then smacked his lips together in a mock kiss.

Patrick blushed and shuffled uncomfortably when he realized he’d been staring at Declan’s naked body that had become magnificently sculpted and toned over the last 30 years. Patrick was in awe of Declan’s body, and a little jealous. Lilith dumped him for Declan during the 42-day affair, and Patrick knew he didn’t measure up to this perfection then, and definitely not now.

Declan buckled his leather boots, then slipped into the black coat that hugged his body tightly.

Lead the fucking way, he said sourly.

Declan stepped out of his prison cell, holding his fierce scowl as he followed Patrick through the double set of doors that Patrick took his time unlocking. Declan didn’t believe he was going to be released from prison today, so he left his belongings in the cell, and slammed each door behind him angrily. He held his head high as he made his way across the skyway without looking at the Guards holding their weapons towards him. This particular stance of the Guards grated on his nerves more than usual.

The Guards hadn’t been unkind to Declan during his 30-year prison sentence, but they teased him mercilessly over the years. This stance was a long-standing joke that Declan generally handled with humor and grace, because in truth, he was more a guest of the Elders than a prisoner. But he wasn’t in the mood for it today. Today was the 30th anniversary of Issa’s death, and he was anxious to start searching for her. He hoped he wasn’t too late to find her after all this time, but didn’t want to get his hopes up for his release just yet.

Although Declan was angrily mortified at his imprisonment, as well as these enforced weekly meetings with the Elders, he was surprised to discover that the Elders were far less stern and stoic when they weren’t on their diamond thrones. Declan finally saw the Elders as compassionate, wise, resourceful, and reasonable Ancient Gods who were no different from him. He always imagined they were preternatural higher beings with super powers. But they were just old Incubians who discovered an ancient secret to eternal immortality. They lived longer lives than any other Incubi, and their combined life experience was phenomenal. The wisdom they gained just by being alive, quietly observing the nature of existence was vast, deep, and the most accurate accounting of life known to any living being in Tosú-Críoch. The main and only focus of the Elders was to act upon each principle they were named for, based upon their observations of the lives of billions of widely varied species.

The Elders were somewhat sympathetic to Declan’s situation, but only when he pushed them hard enough, and he wasn’t afraid to push them. He knew the power he held, despite being a prisoner, and no longer played by the rules of the Elders. He believed those rules were archaic and unfair to all living beings in the Multiverse. The laws were too rigid, with little room for error, and the Elders never wavered an inch in the ancient laws that failed to evolve with the living beings bound by those laws. Declan was no great Scientist, but he knew that fighting against the evolutionary process of organic matter was futile. Nature would take its own course no matter how hard the Elders tried to contain it.  

Declan hadn’t lost his scowl by the time he reached the Elders’ chambers. Patrick hadn’t lost his smile nor his good humor. It was the first day of the Gathering, and Patrick knew Lilith would be there.

Prince Declan, it has been a pleasure to be your jailor these last 30 years. I hope to see ye at the Gathering tonight. Lucky fucker. Ye’ll get all the lasses first. Patrick held out his hand with a wide grin. Declan smirked and shook Patrick’s hand.

Ye’re a good lad, Patrick. Aye, I intend to have as many lasses as will have me. Thirty fuckin years staring at your ugly mug was more torture than necessary. Declan grinned, then pulled Patrick to him with a fierce squint. I still haven’t forgotten who tossed me into the cell.

It was 30 years ago, Declan. I was only following orders. Ye’re a Solider. Ye know it was never personal.

It was very fuckin personal to me, Patrick. Declan pushed Patrick away, then entered the private chambers with a heavy stomp. He stood before the Elders with his arms crossed over his chest and fire in his eyes. The Elders clearly saw both Amon and Marduk in him at that moment, and braced themselves for another bitter battle of wits with Declan.

We are pleased that you finally joined us, Declan, Knowledge said in a droll tone. They’d been waiting over an hour for him to arrive. Sit. Let us converse like the Gods. Knowledge motioned toward the single chair across from the Council with a stern face.

Declan reluctantly took the chair, and held his stoic face. He was determined not to break. Am I being released today? he asked quietly.

Yes, Knowledge answered quickly. After this meeting, he added when Declan pushed back his chair and took two steps toward the door.

Declan sat back in the chair with a heavy sigh, but his heart sped up when Justice handed him a scroll tied with a white ribbon. He knew it was his pardon papers. He leaned forward, and gave Justice a look equally divided between thankfulness and betrayal as he gently took it from her hand. She had to look away from him when she handed him the pen.

All you need to do is sign, and you are free, she said softly with more than a little guilt in her tone.

None of the Elders wanted to imprison Declan. He was their new great hope after Amon and Marduk disappointed them so badly. But they couldn’t risk Declan running away from Gael before he gained the knowledge he needed to wear the Crown. That knowledge had to be passed on before they lost him. Declan’s recklessness was legendary, and his defiance was growing every day. His heart was broken, but his spirit was stronger than ever. Declan had matured into a commanding presence of his own, and the Elders gained more respect for Declan with each passing year of his confinement.

In the enforced daily studies and weekly meetings, Declan learned his lessons from the Elders well, and they were satisfied that he would live up to the duty ahead of him when the time was right. They also believed they had discovered a solution to set things right for Declan, as right as they could possibly arrange from the tangled web of drama, intrigue, and deceit the Kings and their Princes left in the wake of their attempt to overstep the Laws of Tosú-Críoch.

Is there news from the Crystal Palace? Amon? Declan asked through tight lips as he signed his release papers. He was so worried about his father’s state of mind, as well as his health. Amon not only lost Issa, but Lear, Amon’s infant son, died the same day Declan was taken to the Citadel prison. Declan hadn’t seen his father, or anyone in his family since that day, except for the brief glimpses on the holographic computer in the Elders chambers.

There is nothing new to report. Amon still has not set his foot in his laboratory. He is not creating anything. He is not fighting the Rebellion. He is not working at all, in fact, Truth said while shaking his head.

My father is broken. Losing Issa took the life from him, Declan said sadly.

With nothing but time on his hands for the last 30 years, he’d been over the entire scenario a thousand times, and finally forgave Amon for his betrayal. He knew Amon had suffered terribly for his actions, and was determined to make amends for their bitter ending 30 years ago.

Ye should know I’ll begin my search for Issa as soon as I leave here. I won’t stop until I find her. Once again, and with all due respect, your punishment upon my family was much too harsh.

Declan rarely discussed Issa with the Elders. He was too angry at their decision to condemn her to death, and he was also angry that he couldn’t search for her as he promised. He knew if he opened that wound in the Elders Chambers, he might add to his prison sentence by doing something foolish. In these weekly meetings, he held himself like an equal, but he adhered to the protocol and respect they demanded of him. He didn’t want to break that respect now, when he was so close to the door.

Your respect is noted, once again. We had no choice, Declan. Laws must be upheld. Amon and Marduk broke the Laws, as did you. All of you had to be reprimanded accordingly for your actions. Not even the Kings are above the Law, Justice said in a stoic voice.

Those Laws need to be revised and ye all know it. They were written billions of years ago...long before humanity existed. If we don’t change the Laws, and change with them, we won’t survive.

You are not wearing on your father’s Crown yet, Declan. It is not your place to change the Laws. Justice sighed as she gently touched Declan’s hand, then shifted her tone into a grandmother offering sage advice. You will not find Issa. She is lost.

I will find her, Declan said adamantly, but he felt the sting of those words deep in his bones. No one had discovered a single clue about Issa’s possible reincarnation. There hadn’t been a single trace of her anywhere on Earth in the last 30 years.

She is no longer Issa. She has been reborn. Truth said in his usual matter-of-fact tone.

Declan’s eyes lit up as he moved forward a mere inch. He didn’t want to give away too much, but his eyes spoke it all. Ye know this for certain?

Temperance held up her hand. Declan, you have spent enough time pining for something you cannot have. You will prepare yourself to rule Tosú-Críoch. And you will take a wife from Gael.

Declan laughed incredulously and shook his head. They had this same argument over and over for the last 30 years. He hadn’t changed his position.

I’m pledged to Issa, and will take no other wife. I will not wear the Crown under your Laws. Because of your archaic and, quite frankly, ridiculous Laws, I lost everything. Issa. Amon. Aramanth. Lugh. My spotless record in Gael. I lost my fuckin hair! Declan spat out angrily as he stood and charged toward the Elders with fire in his eyes.

Do not cross the line, Knowledge said in an ominous tone.

Declan continued anyway. He was furious, and now that he’d been pardoned, he had no qualms about voicing the opinions he’d been holding back for 30 years. Ye crossed all my fuckin lines! The antidote was there for the taking...only one year away. Ye saw this beforehand. Ye knew Issa could’ve been saved. Ye knew Lear would die...yet ye condemned Issa anyway. My father, who was only driven by love, was punished by losing his heart and soul. Amon lost two children, when ye condemned him to lose one. And he lost me as well...for 30 fuckin years! Ye claim to love your Kings, but I didn’t see love in your judgment.

You do not see all, Declan, Knowledge said in a stern voice.

I see enough to know that ye didn’t take my feelings into consideration at all. Ye tossed me into your fuckin prison, for a simple act of love. Ye kept me from searching for Issa as I promised her on her last breath! If this is how ye love your Kings, then I want no part of it! Don’t ye see that we’re all broken without Issa? Amon is broken. Gael is broken. I... Declan stopped because he was tired of saying those words. Moreover, he was tired of being broken. He sat on the edge of the chair heavily, scratched his thick beard, then continued calmly, with the utmost respect. I haven’t changed my mind. Once again, I respectfully refuse the Heirship. And I will not take a wife. I’ll spend my eternity searching for Issa...and Samuel.

Declan’s tone turned bitter when he said Samuel’s name. In his eyes, Samuel was a murderer, just like the father who raised him. Over the last 30 years while replaying the scenario of Issa’s wedding fiasco, he came to the same conclusion every time. Samuel was to blame for Issa’s death. It was Samuel who pulled her through the Gates of Tuath. It was Samuel who took Issa from the safety of his arms.

You must take the Crown, Declan. It is your fate. Knowledge towered over Declan in an attempt to intimidate him.

Declan lifted one thick eyebrow and smirked sarcastically as he crossed his arms over his chest.

I told ye my terms. I won’t take the Crown under these Laws, and I will not rule without Issa. Declan stared at Knowledge, even though the whiteness of Knowledge’s eyes hurt his own. He was determined not to waver an inch.

Temperance slowly walked around the room while deep in thought. What would you have us do, Declan? Her voice was soft yet firm.

Find her. I know ye have the power. Bring her back to Gael, and I’ll accept the Heirship with Issa as my Queen.

If there is a way to do what you ask, how far are you willing to go? Knowledge asked.

I’m willing to go anywhere and do anything. Declan’s interest was piqued, and his heart began to pound loudly around his ears.

Knowledge nodded. You will be put to that test, Declan.

You must complete two commissions before you will find Issa, Truth spoke softly.

Name it and I’ll do it. Declan sat forward eagerly as a rush of hope filled his head for the first time in 30 years. His heart was thumping so loudly, he was sure the Elders could hear it.

There is a Cambion that must be awakened. She is the one to lead the Revolution. Find her. Bring her to us. You must travel with her through the Onyx River, not the Gates. Mind you, Declan, she is known by others, and she is the mark of all the warring factions. We must have her in Gael to protect her.

Ye want me to take a child from her mother, and bring her here? Ye’ll scared the wee lass to death! Declan snorted and exhaled loudly, then sat back and crossed his arms over his chest again. Ye’re all mad. It’s time for all of ye to retire, he said with a withered scowl.

Declan was no longer afraid of the consequences of breaking protocol with the Elders. They took his heart when they condemned Issa, then threw him in prison for 30 years. He was certain they could hurt him no further. The entire world was falling apart, and the Lesser Gods were gaining more momentum than ever in their Rebellion. Earth was on the brink of ruination, and neither Amon nor Marduk were doing anything to stop it. Declan didn’t care much about what happened to the Colonies either. He had little will to exist as the Elders expected him to. But if this was his only way to find Issa, he would do as the Council asked, no matter the cost. He was going to make them squirm a bit longer before he accepted the commission, however.

You will bring the woman to Gael as well. The mother is also a Cambion, with a very high pedigree. Treat her with dignity and respect. She is not a pawn in your love games, Declan. Knowledge gave Declan a stern look that meant he was to keep his hands off her.

Declan blushed under that look, because that’s exactly came to his mind when Knowledge spoke of her. No matter how strong his grief, Declan was an Incubus. Love was what he did. He was in dire need of a woman, and never more aware of it than in this moment.

This commission is of utmost importance. You must put aside your feelings for Issa, and your grief. Your passion as well. Your existence, the existence of this entire world you are to inherit is at risk if you fail in this commission. You are a Warrior, Declan. Do not fail us. Keep your eyes open, and your mind sharp. Many are looking for the girl. Including Samuel, Knowledge said sternly.

Declan uncrossed his arms and sat up straight. Is the girl Issa?

No, Truth answered, and Declan deflated again.

The second part of your commission is to bring Samuel to us.

Your own Guards have been searching for Samuel for years. He’s fallen off the radar completely. What makes ye think I can find him? Declan wrinkled his brow, and tilted his head curiously. He knew the Elders weren’t telling him the whole story.

This commission will not be as difficult as you think, Declan. Samuel is in New Orleans at this very moment. When you find Samuel, you will find the girl. We must have her in Gael to protect her, to awaken her, and to train her for the Revolution. Samuel must serve out his punishment like everyone else, Justice said in her grandmotherly tone.

Why is Samuel looking for this girl? What does he have to do with her?

Samuel is her father, Truth answered.

Declan snorted incredulously, and threw his hands up in the air. Why would ye choose Samuel’s Cambion to lead the Revolution? Why not one of my own? Or Lugh’s? Surely there are better choices than the daughter of Salem, Son of Cain! Ye’ve all gone fuckin mad! Declan didn’t bother hiding his anger.

Knowledge held up his hand to silence him. Declan was tempted to speak over him anyway. He opened his mouth, but the stern look in Knowledge’s eyes stopped him. He didn’t want to return to that prison cell. Still, he wasn’t happy with this commission. He felt used and betrayed. They were giving him orders for this commission as though he was still a prisoner, and the Elders hadn’t told him how or where to find Issa. Declan was skeptical of their motives, and scanned each of their faces for answers. He found none. The Elders were more closed off in this moment than Declan had ever seen them.

Once again, Declan...you do not see all.

Tell me this...how much can any of ye possibly see, and know about humanity by sitting back comfortably in your fine robes on your high thrones observing from a hologram? How could any of ye possibly know anything about a human revolution when ye know nothing about Earth and its people? Ye don’t have a clue how to affect change in the world, because ye know nothing about the world beyond this Citadel. Declan let his words hang in the air. He believed he had given the lesson of the day, and pursed his lips a little arrogantly.

Truth’s robe unfolded around him majestically as he rose from his throne, towering over Knowledge. When Truth spoke, Declan knew that he’d been put in his place soundly, and he respected the Elders even more for it.

We do not know enough about humanity. This we all freely admit. But you do. Which is exactly why you must take the Crown. If you want to affect change in the world, Prince Declan, then you must make the sacrifice, take responsibility, and actually make those changes. No one else will change the world, if you do not. Truth lifted his chin slightly when he realized that Declan got the deeper message within that statement. Declan knew the burden ahead of him was heavy. He was aware of all the duties that were in store for him. Even Marduk’s duties.

Justice made a move to stand, and Declan jumped up from his chair to lend her his hand. Justice’s words proved to be the one lesson Declan needed to learn more than any.

The girl was chosen because of her mother as well as her father. The girl’s mother is Alphan. Samuel is Omegan. This girl has the blood of Phoenix and the Fathers of Phoenix. Her bloodline flows from the Ancient Kings whose blood flows back to Red Rory. She is more Incubian than human, but she has lived her entire life among humanity. This Cambion knows more about humanity than all of us. Including you, Declan.

Declan hung his head and closed his eyes. He knew he had to take this commission, no matter what he might suffer through, or what he might gain. He would have to put his search for Issa on hold, again, to make the sacrifice and take responsibility for the girl and her mother, because he did indeed want to change his world. Declan made a solemn vow to the Cambion Project hundreds of years ago, and was honor bound to do everything in his power to make the Revolution of the children of the Incubi occur as planned.

Two commissions. One place. No one must know the details of either commission, and you must leave immediately. Temperance’s voice was soft and gentle. When you have successfully completed these commissions, you will have your reward.

Which is?

Issa.

Chapter One

T

hick fog and heavy, leaded raindrops made it impossible for Caraye to see more than a foot in front of her as she zigzagged around the slow-moving crowds of the French Quarter, then ran into the middle of the slick, steamy street. She managed to dodge oncoming traffic, but Caraye struggled to keep her footing as she turned the corner of a dark side-street. The rain stopped suddenly, and the angry mob with flaming torches closed in on her from both directions. She ducked into an alley on the left, and didn’t stop running. Not even when she saw the headlights moving toward her. She looked behind her to see if the crowd was still following. They were, but she couldn’t stop her momentum. She seemed to be flying towards the headlights. But the chants of the angry crowd chasing her rang out louder than the blaring horn of the truck.

Burn the Witch! Burn the Witch! Burn the Witch! They chanted from all directions at once. The rhythm of their words drummed loudly in her ears, and gave her the strength to run faster.

The lights of the oncoming truck got closer and closer; her breathing came fast and hard. The fog thickened around her and became animated, like a band of rogue spirits touching her all at once. She looked behind her again, and saw the angry faces multiplying. She felt the heat of the fire warming her face before she turned toward the blinding headlights dead ahead. She couldn’t stop running. She held her breath, and braced for the pain and noise of the impact. But there was no impact. No pain. The chanting stopped. The honking horn stopped. Her panting breaths stopped. She floated above the truck in complete silence and total darkness. She thought for certain she was dead this time, and willingly followed the dark-haired angel pulling on her arm.

Caraye suddenly sprang awake in a cold sweat, panting and gasping for air as though she’d been trapped in an airtight bag. She gasped two deep breaths before realizing she was awake and safe in her bed. Residual images of her recurring dream flooded her consciousness again as her breathing slowed.

It wasn’t the dream itself that disturbed her. It was the memory of the actual event 19 years ago. She buried her head in her hands, and wiped her eyes before composing herself. The blood mark on her neck began to pulse and throb until her head ached.

It’s just a dream, Caraye. Just a dream.

Caraye twisted her golden-red hair into a bun before placing her long, slim feet on the hardwood floor that was painfully cold, despite the evening radiance of southern heat. She padded across her bedroom into the kitchen to start a drip of chicory coffee. No matter the time or weather, chicory coffee was always brewing somewhere in New Orleans.

Caraye’s hands shook as she filled her mug with steaming hot coffee that splashed on her pajama top, and burned her hand when she replaced the carafe.

Fuck! She cursed under her breath, then groaned loudly as her shoulders slumped. She leaned against the sink, and sipped the steaming coffee in small, noisy slurps as the entire dream flooded her memory all at once.

Salem, she whispered as she blew into the steaming coffee mug. Where the hell did you go? Caraye stared off into the distance, then slowly made her way to the bedroom on the back end of the house.

Caraye’s shotgun house was still furnished exactly as it had been throughout her childhood, and even after a 13-year absence, she easily made her way through the dark hallway.

It wasn’t that she particularly liked the fusty décor of her grandmother’s house, she just wasn’t sure she would stay in New Orleans now that Maw-Maw Tess was dead. At least that’s what she told herself every time she thought about fixing the place up. Caraye could never bring herself to stay in one place too long, but the thought of moving again just seemed too much of a task. She’d lived a gypsy life for the last 13 years, but New Orleans was home.

Caraye opened the bedroom door carefully so it wouldn’t squeak, and slid into the darkness gracefully. She stood over the bed of the sleeping girl covered with a thin sheet, and breathed a deep sigh. Her daughter was safe.  

As usual, Caraye couldn’t tear herself away until she heard Jade’s steady breathing. Even then, Caraye lingered a moment longer to take in Jade’s beautifully exotic features, and wondered again how she had come by something so incredibly perfect.

Jade’s dark features resembled Caraye’s only slightly. Jade had smooth, amber skin with thick, chestnut hair and pale green, cat-like eyes. Caraye often remarked that Jade reminded her of a kitten swaddled in dark silk. Caraye was pale with golden-red hair, and electric-blue eyes inherited from her Irish grandfather, Liam Halloran. Jade was muscular but slim, and almost as tall as her mother; Caraye was wispy thin and somewhat gangly, considering her near 6-foot height. She was just graceful enough to pull it off, however. Whatever their physical differences, each was the other’s ideal of beauty.

Caraye took another sip of coffee, and one more lingering look at Jade before quietly leaving her daughter’s room. She stumbled into the silver trash can that seemed to jump out at her, and cursed under her breath as hot coffee spilled on her hand again.

What do y’all want from me? Caraye asked exhaustedly, lifting her eyes upward. Leave me alone, she said to the thin air around her, but she knew the spirits were there. They were always there.

Caraye paced around the kitchen, waiting for something to happen. The energy was getting thicker by the minute, and the hair on the back of her neck was bristling. The spirit was breathing down her neck, but it didn’t call out this time. Caraye shivered at the sudden chill in the room. The spirits didn’t often frighten her, but tonight’s call was different. She grabbed her cell phone off the table and called the one person who would understand her dilemma.

It’s 4:20 in da mornin’...somebody better be dead, Mia said dryly in her heavy New Orleans accent. Her accent was always heaviest in the depths and pinnacles of her emotions.

I had the dream again. And I swear to Ogoun, this room is so full of spirits right now, Mia. I don’t know what to do.

Who’s dead, Caraye? If nobody’s dead, I’m goin’ back to sleep. Mia’s tone was playfully harsh since she’d been caught off-guard by Caraye’s middle-of-the-night phone call, but Caraye knew Mia wasn’t really angry.

Somebody’s dead, Mia. The spirit is standing in my kitchen with its ice-cold hands wrapped around my neck, and it is definitely dead.

She held her breath, waiting for the sound she knew she would hear. Mia sighed heavily and whined with a fierce growl.

I’m coming. You better have some goddamn coffee. Strong and black. Like me. Mia chuckled in her signature hoarse voice.

Coffee’s already brewed. Bring your kit. We have some work to do. Caraye smiled broadly.

Alright. Gimme a minute, and keep that coffee hot, witch. Mia chuckled softly.

Within 10 minutes, Mia was standing at Caraye’s door in mismatched pajamas, a silk robe, pink fuzzy slippers, and a black satin sleep mask over her forehead. She held a coffee mug in her right hand. In her left, she held the wooden box with her crystals, stones, herbs, salts, red brick dust, cauldrons, candles, talismans, amulets, and Tarot cards. She held out the empty mug to Caraye.

Two sugars and a splash of cream...and if you laugh at my hair, I’m gonna kill ya myself, Mia said as she shuffled in the door sleepily.

Caraye chuckled softly at Mia’s disheveled appearance. Mia was an elegantly beautiful Creole woman who always took pride in her soft, honey-gold curls that were usually immaculately tame. Tonight, Mia’s curls were tied with silk ribbons sticking up in a dozen different directions, yet she managed to maintain her regal beauty. Mia always maintained a confident sense of self. Much more so than Caraye, who never felt comfortable in her own skin.

So...the same dream again, huh? Same dark-haired man? It’s gotta be Salem, Mia said while yawning and stretching her back. She grinned crookedly, and sighed when her back popped.

I thought so for a long time, Mia. But I haven’t seen Salem in 19 years. I can hardly remember what he looks like. The man in the dream is...taller, thicker, I think. I really can’t remember. Caraye filled up the coffee cups, then sat at the table with Mia.

Maybe he’s dead, Caraye. Could be his spirit reaching for you.

Something’s reaching for me, Mia. You don’t feel that energy in here?

Mia scoffed and rolled her eyes. Girl, I feel this energy all day, every day. But you’re right. It’s real thick here tonight. Let’s see what the cards have to say, then we’ll do a spell.

Mia laid out her Tarot cards in a circular spread to match the 12 Zodiac houses, with a 13th row of cards in the center.

What the fuck is this? Girl, you got the Devil in the 4th house of home! Lawd...da devil up in here, Mia said playfully, but looked around the room with a scowl on her face as though she was prepared to take on the devil one-handed.

Caraye giggled at her scowl; she knew Mia would soundly beat the devil, if the devil even existed, and was in her house at the moment.

Plus, you got Death, the Tower, and the Moon in your communication house. Yep. The dead’s calling, babe. Whoever or whatever it is that’s calling you might not be dead, but it ain’t alive either. Mia said with a crooked grimace as though she were trying to read deeper into the cards. I hate to say it, Caraye, but I think Salem’s dead...or living among the dead. Weird. Even for you. Mia smirked playfully before she sipped her coffee with a loud slurp.

Are you sure? Maybe it’s someone else. Caraye wanted an answer to Salem’s abandonment 19 years ago, but she didn’t want to believe he was dead.

Could be. Mia laid out several rounds of cards over the 13 rows. Hmmm...look at this in your 7th house...Justice, Temperance, Strength, and the Hermit...your spirit Council, Caraye. All of ‘em except the Hierophant, Truth. That’s a message in itself. Your Council’s trying to tell you something about your romantic partner. Mia’s maple-brown eyes sparkled as she blew into her coffee mug. Her cheeks flushed beautifully with a warm glow from the heat in the air, as well as the coffee. Mia was most beautiful when she was in her spirit realm.

What partner? Do you see a partner in my house? Caraye rolled her eyes and smirked as she waved her hand across the room. She shivered suddenly, and ran her hands along her arms. Why’s it so cold in here? She looked around the room as though she might find the answer hanging in the air.

Look at this! Mia said excitedly and took another gulp of coffee. You got the World, the Sun, the Star, and the Wheel of Fortune in the 13th house. Girl...that’s some serious shit! I think I was wrong. Salem ain’t dead. He’s coming back to New Orleans. Back from the dead, cuz you got Death, the Lovers, the Seven of Swords, and the Chariot here. Mia’s eyes were bright with excitement, but Caraye was skeptical.

No way, Mia. Salem forgot about me a long time ago. Caraye’s blue eyes misted over a little as she looked away from Mia.

Mia lifted Caraye’s chin gently, and looked her dead in the eye. Salem’s coming back to New Orleans, Caraye. Rising like a Phoenix from the ashes, and traveling over water. And that ain’t all. Look at this. Here’s your partners, sister. Notice I used the plural on that? Mia grinned crookedly. The King of Cups and the King of Swords. Mmm, now we’re talking. Get ready for a little romance, or hell, a lotta romance, cuz one of these Kings is gonna fall out the sky and knock ya off ya feet. But he’s got a deep wound in his heart. See? The Three of Swords is crossing him. He lost someone important to him. Mia’s eyes misted over for a minute when she thought about her own recent loss that was deeply embedded in her heart as well. Be careful of this other King. He could be dangerous. But we both know how much you like those bad boys. Mia winked and laughed softly.

Me? You’re the bad boy magnet. Caraye giggled, then sipped her coffee while eyeing the cards carefully.

More like a creep magnet. Mia rolled her eyes, and smirked while eyeing Caraye. She saw a dark wave of energy cross over Caraye’s shoulders, and noted that she shivered again when it crossed her.

Maybe it’s time to change that. If I have two romantic devils coming into my life, one of them is yours, Caraye said sweetly.

These two are all yours, Caraye. I’ll find my own colony of romantic devils. Mia grinned. Besides...one of these is Salem, and I got enough trouble in my life.

Caraye looked over the cards curiously, but was reluctant to believe what she was seeing in them. Caraye and Mia were both master Tarot card readers, and knew every detail of the ancient language buried within them. Caraye knew the cards never lied.

Mia, it can’t be Salem. It’s been 19 years, and he doesn’t even know about Jade. He has no reason to come back to New Orleans, Caraye said dismissively. She was afraid to hope that she might see Salem again. It’s probably just another rogue spirit looking for me to help ‘em cross over.

All her life, Caraye had been haunted by voices and visions of the dead. Some she saw vividly; others were strange wave patterns in varying shapes and sizes. Most were lost spirits in need of a guide into the afterlife. As a child, Caraye assumed everyone had this ability, and her vivid imagination was deemed ‘cute’ by her teachers. However, the inevitable occurred when Caraye grew up and still heard imaginary voices—she became the weird girl.

New Orleans wasn’t so liberal with its freaks in those days, so Caraye only shared her spiritual experiences with her small Witch Coven, which consisted of her grandmother Tess, Mia, and Mia’s mother, Maddie LeBlanc.

Maddie was fearless in the face of the spirits. She was the pied piper of the dead in New Orleans, and swore she’d traveled to the Underworld to study under Ogoun himself. Everyone in the French Quarter believed her, especially when Maddie’s spiritual powers tripled after her mysterious disappearance. It was Maddie who guided Mia and Caraye through the process of communicating with the dead, as well as the guiding spirits Caraye called her Council. 

Tess and Maddie took Mia and Caraye under their wings to teach the girls everything they knew about Voodoo and Pagan Witchcraft. Mia and Caraye began working in the Temple of Ogoun, making moss Voodoo dolls, when they were 7 years old.

The Temple of Ogoun was infamous