Page 11 of Up in Smoke

“Ah. Yes. You will need to possess the strength of steel for what we wish for you to do. And I know it will test you more than you like.”

I understood.

New Orleans was, above all, a city of magic and spirits, and I would need to deal with both if I had to boss a bunch of stubborn, egotistical queens around for a while. “I’d say you’d owe me for this, but we’re going into this on equal ground.”

“That is the only reason it will work. The magic knows. The spirit knows. We all sacrifice. And only because we all sacrifice do we have a hope of success. But only a hope.”

I’d gone to New Orleans seeking help, and I’d never dreamed they would need me of all people. “I’m just a fox,” I told her.

“You are hardly just an anything, Jade. Even when I found you on the streets, scavenging to get by while attempting to learn your wayward magic, you were something. Having to drag you home by your tail was one of my least favorite activities, especially as you’re a stubborn little vixen. You couldn’t have been a day over twelve or thirteen then, a little ball of fluff with a great deal of growing left to do.”

My tail and ears had grown to their full length long before the rest of me had caught up. “And I’m still only chest height to you on a good day.”

“It lets you sneak into places I can only dream about venturing, ma chéri. I am tall and willowy, like a tree. You are the sleek and agile vixen you were always meant to be. I will bring your bag so you can retrieve your sword yourself. I would not wish to offend her.”

I appreciated that Ryleigh accepted my sword was more than what met the eye, and while she got out of the vehicle and headed for the trunk, I shook Sandro awake. He resisted at first, and it took flicking his ear and attempting to tickle him to get him roused.

He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and blinked at our surroundings. “Crap. I fell asleep.”

“It was basically a faint. The instant you buckled up, you were gone. We’re here.”

“Where is here?”

“The House of Blues,” I announced, and I pointed in the direction of the light-splashed streets from the few lampposts still illuminating the Puddle. “The queens wish to meet with us. It’s not good news.”

I doubted I’d ever be able to warn him about the true severity of our problem, so I would let the queens handle briefing him.

“They have a big job for me, don’t they?”

“For us,” I corrected.

“Us?” Sandro frowned. “You’re a Voodoo witch, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I feel I should have asked for more details about your witchcraft now.”

I smiled at him, secured a hold on his leash, and nodded towards the door. “To be safe rather than sorry, I’m keeping a good hold on your leash, my little songbird.”

He chuckled and stretched before obeying my order to get out of Ryleigh’s car. I followed him, and we spent a long moment staring out over the watery wastes of the Puddle.

“What district is this? The French Quarter?”

“Everybody calls it the Puddle now, but it used to be the French Quarter, yes. Ryleigh? How long has the water been this high?”

“Eight months,” she replied, coming around the vehicle with my duffle bag and setting it on the back seat. “We’ve managed to stabilize the water levels to this level, but it’s only going to get worse if we don’t act.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Sandro promised, eyeing the crystal we stood on with interest. “Where did you get the carbon for this?”

“Lumber waste from the north, yards destined to drown as the water levels rose, and animals who couldn’t escape from the floods,” Ryleigh replied. Then, with a grimace, she added, “Anywhere we could.”

I winced, as I could think of a good source of carbon: the bodies of the dead who hadn’t survived the first floods. “Thus the spirits you warned me about.”

“Yes. We are hopeful you can help lay them to rest while you work. We could not beg their consent, and they would have poisoned those of us who had survived.”

In a way, I pitied the queen, for I had walked in her shoes, but I’d thrown my dead on a pyre and whispered prayers to some uncaring god I didn’t even believe in instead. “I will do what I can,” I promised, and I retrieved Peace from the duffle bag, holding her close. “This is Peace.”

“She is beautiful, and she is beautifully named,” the Voodoo queen complimented. “Let us go inside, and then you can see the true scale of our dilemma.”

“Well, there was one thing I knew about New Orleans before I got here. No matter what, this city is never boring,” Sandro said, and he offered his arm.

Making certain his leash stayed around my wrist, I accepted his invitation, and we went to face the Voodoo queens of New Orleans together.