Page 76 of Up in Smoke

“I feel a need to leash you so nobody gets any ideas. You’re mine.” My fox appreciated my declaration.

He grinned. “Your territory is safe. Ryleigh isn’t my type, and I’m definitely not her type.”

“That’s true. We’d kill each other within a week. How dare he have this tendency to roam from quadrant to quadrant? I’d do more than leash him. I’d work to make certain he never left home. And then his tendency to have opinions of his own? I don’t know how you deal with him, Jade.” The Voodoo queen raised a brow at me in challenge.

I giggled at Ryleigh’s sarcastic tone. “I’d have to fight for him, and you know how much I hate getting my ass kicked.”

“You’d stand a good chance of winning. That’s why you’re the Queen. It’s not just your ability to get us to cooperate, but that you have the strength to force us to cooperate if necessary. That’s not something to take lightly.”

The scryers all stared at me with wide eyes.

Ryleigh smirked, and I wondered what game she played—and why she revealed my questionable status as the ruler of New Orleans, although I didn’t really rule anything at all. I existed, and the spirits liked me.

That seemed like a poor reason to count me as a queen of anything. On second thought, if someone proclaimed I ruled over Sandro’s salsa, I would accept my reign without question. Ruling anything else would test my patience and sanity to their limits. “All right, Ryleigh. Why did you bring that up?”

“They didn’t understand your value. Now they do. You didn’t make a good impression upon them, and I didn’t wish for the spirits to adjust their attitude when I could do the adjustment by simply informing them of your importance and role. They respect Sandro because they have seen his workings. You were a delay in their flight to freedom.”

“I’d be cranky about that, too, and it’s not like I went out of my way to become friends with them. My duty was to get them here.” I shrugged and stared at each of the silenced women. “I am sorry about that, and I am sorry about what Mansfield has done to you. He has enough blood on his hands without adding more of yours to his tally. Ryleigh will take good care of you. Just walk quietly around the spirits, and if the Voodoo calls to you in any form, listen. It’s not like in the Alley. The spirits decide whether to listen to you. The stronger you are, the more likely they’ll listen. But should they listen, it’s often a double-edged sword. Watch what you wish for. You might get it.”

“That is the best advice she could possibly give you. With my arts, it might even be possible to restore what you had taken from you. But you might also learn to speak in a new way. Only time will tell. Jade, I’ve brought supplies to go with the information we were able to acquire. One of the choirs became quite vocal when we made it clear we would take our time peeling their secrets out of them. Sometimes, our reputation allows us to do much with little effort. It didn’t hurt that the spirits have been riled up since you left. They whisper of an encroaching danger, and they are displeased.”

“The boundaries coming down would change everything.”

“Yes, and nobody is prepared for if all of the spirits of this land were to awaken all at once. The spirits within the boundaries are irritated as well.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I admitted. “Our crossing was easy—easier than I thought it would be.”

We’d even gotten through without Sandro falling to his fatigue.

“The spirits protect you.” Ryleigh went to her car and opened the back door. “I am amused you acquired a wagon—and I’m intrigued about where you found one. I had gotten one similar for you to carry your things.”

True to her word, she pulled out a wagon similar to mine, and while it was a different brand, it also had oversized wheels to make it suitable for pulling over broken ground.

“The only thing better than one wagon is two wagons,” I declared, joining her. “I have some film I’d like you to develop. I inherited it.”

“I’m sorry, ma chéri. Life in the Alley is hard, and then it ends. What was your lost spirit to you?”

“A friend. Storm got her. She wouldn’t leave the home her heart lived in while he still lived. Some of the pictures are of him. Others are of more importance.”

“She photographed the storms?” Ryleigh guessed.

“Among other things. I wanted to make sure the evidence left the Alley. I don’t know how far the pictures will go, but something is better than nothing.”

“The spirits may be able to aide if the pictures can serve as an anchor. I shall learn what I can.” Ryleigh began the tedious process of loading up the new wagon with the supplies she’d acquired. “This is important, so listen carefully. Should they attempt to do a mass opening of death’s door, it will create a pulse. We believe his goal is to create a pulse strong enough to disrupt the boundaries.”

“And the chances he’ll be able to bring them down?”

“I don’t think he can. Those boundaries exist because of the conflicting magics in the quadrants. At most, he will turn the entirety of the United States into one gigantic boundary for a while. There would be many deaths, and death’s door would be opened wider. The spirits will rise. What will happen then? That’s what we cannot tell, no matter how hard we try. We have only listened to the spirits whisper to us of the possibilities. What we haven’t seen is how he will attempt to open death’s door. It would cost many, many lives.”

“The trains,” Sandro said, and his expression turned troubled. “If he has allies from all quadrants, especially among the poor hoping for a better life, and he’s trying to sell the idea of Asylum to them, he could bring thousands of people in at a time. The gaps in the storms would help him with that. He’s working to reestablish the railways, and I know he wants to be the one to control transportation into the Alley. If he controls who can come and when people can arrive, it’ll be easy to catch those coming in. And if he promises wealth, land, and similar, he might be able to lure millions of the poor from the cities around the quadrants.”

“Greed is a powerful motivator,” Ryleigh agreed.

“But if he wants to kill a bunch of people on incoming trains, how can we stop him?”

“He’ll want to do it all at one time, else there wouldn’t be a large enough magic surge,” Sandro said, and he ran his hand through his hair to scratch at his scalp. “With the right poem, I might be able to counter whatever he’s trying to do, but I’d have to figure out what he’s going to do—and when. And that kind of poem would be dangerous at best.”

“Dangerous how?” I demanded.