Page 10 of Up in Smoke

Ah. Such a working would come at a high price, although I did not know what that price might be—or how Sandro might pay it. Or how I might pay it.

Worse, I couldn’t guess how everyone in the city might pay for the sanctuary the New Orleans Voodoo queens wished to build for the sake of all in their care. When I’d first heard of the project, I had been skeptical.

But if the city pulsed, hope lived, however tenuous that hope might be. “And you will seek out the choirs?”

“We already do, and we will continue to do so. We will help your Tulsa as you will help our New Orleans. And if it works, the upper city might survive, too.”

“The water tables would shift from beneath the city to around it, essentially forming an island?”

“The crystal city would do what the levees cannot,” Ryleigh confirmed. “But it is complicated. What we will ask of him is very complex. Much like our home, the crystal city must have districts, and the zones he creates must be as they are on the surface. We must maintain the balance, or us queens will falter.”

Right. The Voodoo queens were more than a rank within the city, they were the city and controlled how magic flowed and pooled within each district. If left unused, it overflowed. When it overflowed, people died.

Without the Voodoo queens, New Orleans would become a city of ghosts within the span of one to two years.

“You wouldn’t involve me if it was just needing a strong songbird, so what role do I have in all this?”

“I want you to work with him and catch the power of the pulse. Everything he doesn’t use, I want you to imbue into some talisman or another. We have gathered gemstones for your use. All of us queens have amassed our fortunes. Every stone we could find, we brought to the city. We would have you whisper your prayer to them so they might hold the power New Orleans bleeds. We have had luck with some stones.” Ryleigh lifted her right hand from the steering wheel to display her diamond. “We know the theory works. You are far more adept at whispering to the stones than any of us would ever be. You are a queen by right if not by confirmation, and we would ask you to do this to help save our city. Then we will be better positioned to save your city, too—and the other cities Mansfield intends to destroy so he can make the Alley his personal playground.”

I could see the bastard doing just that, although he’d discover his personal playground wouldn’t be all that profitable without people backing it. Worse, the Alley would become a land of angry spirits seeking out the man responsible for the untimely demise of so many. “I do not need to share your faith to understand what the spirits may do.”

“Yes. We already hear them, and we listen. That was what decided us. The spirits already move, mainly to the West, but a few head our way. Those ones will find rest here, given peace through our workings. The ones moving to the West? I worry for those spirits.”

I winced, as I foresaw having to head to the West to help with the surge of incorporeal activity if someone else didn’t handle it first. “I regret being a witch right now.”

“A quadrant witch at that. Yes, I expect you will heed that call soon enough. At least you are sensible enough to ride one horse at a time, although you will go ride as many horses as you can before you feel you have done enough.”

Sometimes, I hated how blunt the Voodoo queens could be when they wanted to prove a point—or put me back in my place. “What do you really need of me, Ryleigh?”

“For a time, I need you to rise and be Queen, not a queen, but Queen over all other queens of New Orleans. That is the level of power we need to save our city—and to save yours. But it will only be a passing burden. We Voodoo queens do not appreciate when another holds power over us for long, of course. But for our city, we would do this. For your city, we would do this. But to be balanced, you will have to go to Tulsa not with the intent merely to save it, but to raise it from ash and ruin. You know the price of magic. But is the price something you are willing to pay?”

“What makes you think I can do this, Ryleigh?”

“You have skirted death’s door once already. I felt it when I touched you. There is power to be found in those who live to tell their tale. You may not be aware of it, but the spirits have touched you, and they have found you worthy.”

My eyes widened. Peace, who was in the largest of my duffle bags and rode in the trunk of Ryleigh’s car, had shown me her turbulent past. In a way, I supposed I had touched those spirits with my magic.

I had, for a time, walked among the ghosts of a distant past.

“For Tulsa, I’ll try,” I promised. Then, after a pause, I added, “For New Orleans, I’ll try.”

“That is all we could ever ask of you, ma chéri.”

Saturday, May 30, 2043.

New Orleans, Louisiana.

The South.

Once we crossed the Puddle,with Ryleigh detouring to show me the ruins of the red-light district and how the waters had shuttered most of the doors, she took us to where the queens liked to meet. Like the rest of the French Quarter, the House of Blues waged a losing war against the tides. A levee of crystal in the colors of the rainbow surrounded the place, and a ramp led up to a platform where a few cars parked.

I recognized the vehicles as belonging to the Voodoo queens of New Orleans.

Only a queen would dare to drive through the Puddle with any expectation of her vehicle surviving.

Ryleigh parked beside a dark SUV. “Wake your pet up, machéri. We’ve time if he needs it. Do you want anything out of the trunk for this?”

“I’ll need the big duffle bag. There’s a talisman in it.” Well, Peace had been a talisman in the Alley, but I refused to part with her or treat her as anything other than the treasure she was. “She’s a sword,” I warned the Voodoo queen. “Be warned. She does not take kindly to those who try to steal her.”