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“Pretty sure?” My grip on the phone tightened.
“It’s not like she’s been screaming or anything like that, but she hasn’t come back up either. And I’m not going down there until you are here—”
“Stop being a fucking coward and go down there—”
“Man, you better hurry the fuck up. I’m not dealing with this voodoo shit by myself.”
“Delphine is your aunt—”
“And Em is your fiancé.”
My grip on the phone tightened some more, any tighter and the device would crack. “I’ll be there soon. We’re already on our way.”
“Peace.”
The line went dead.
I moved the phone from my ear and stared at it.
Fear spun in my mind.
Mysh, you must be okay. You are my everything.
Tisha glanced at me. “Something wrong?”
“That idiot isn’t by her side, and she’s been passed out.”
Tisha frowned. “What is this witch doing to her? A ritual or something?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you trust her?”
“I know she has power. The Butcher and even Baba think it’s a good idea for Emily to be here.”
“Then for now, we will trust that this witch knows what she’s doing.”
I let out a long breath, trying to believe my cousin’s words.
You must be okay, mysh. You must.
I thought about our future, her gracefully strolling down the aisle, radiant in a stunning white gown, clutching a bouquet of flowers. The fabric of her dress flowing like a gentle river, and the flowers in her hands capturing the essence of a blooming spring.
And there I would stand, at the other end of the aisle, my heart pounding with anticipation as I waited to finally make her my wife.
Around us, a pride of lions would roam freely among the guests.
Unbound and majestic.
Symbols of strength and nobility.
We have a lot to do, mysh.
The car drove away from the bustling streets of the French Quarter, and the cityscape gradually gave way to an eerier part of town where boarded-up buildings and graffiti-marked walls towered like ominous creatures of the night.
My heart pounded against my chest. It was a relentless drum echoing my rising anxiety.
Every second felt stretched out.
