Page 8 of Up in Smoke

Saturday, May 30, 2043.

New Orleans, Louisiana.

The South.

Queen Ryleigh defended our luggage,and only a fool would test one of the more predominant of the Voodoo queens. As I lacked sense and liked hugs from the lithe woman, I bounced to her and pounced, my tail developing a life of its own.

She embraced me before bending down so she could kiss my cheeks. “You’re looking well, all things considered.”

I turned and lifted my shirt so she could see my new scar. “I’ve decided I like this scar, and when I find out who gave it to me, I’ll give them a beating they don’t forget.”

“Can corpses remember anything?” Sandro asked, striding over to join me. He held the gemstone covered leash in his hand. “This works better when you’re holding it, Jade.”

“You need not be leashed quite yet, pet.” Ryleigh placed her dark hand against my side and traced a pattern over the scar, murmuring a prayer to her goddess. “Yes, this has healed well, although it was longer in healing than I like. You did well sending her back to the East where her magic could shine.”

“I didn’t even have to do much work on it at all. Once I was in the East, the auction house did most of the work, although the Moretti family doctors did a better job of eradicating the infection,” I informed the Voodoo queen. “I’m sorry you had to come out at this hour.”

“I would rather venture to the airport in the dark of night than worry about if your plane made it through the boundary. The boundaries have been in flux these past few weeks, and it has been growing worse. I believe the choirs you wish to have eliminated are the cause. They reach where they should not. Now, introduce me to your pet.”

I took Sandro’s leash and tugged until he stepped closer. “This is Sandro Moretti, and I told him he could do his best to convince me to marry him. He cooks, Ryleigh.”

The Voodoo queen tossed back her head and laughed, her mirth catching the attention of everyone else in the baggage claim. “It is well enough he cooks, else you would eat from a can and be bones and little else. I remember the night I plucked you off the street while you were scavenging to buy your next can. A little vixen, you were, and far too young to have been on your own yet. Please tell me you do better than cans now.”

I nodded and gestured to Sandro again. “He put emergency chocolate in my new purse.” Careful to slip the loop of his leash over my hand first, I showed her what he’d gotten me. “It holds so much, but I can’t look at anything inside yet. They’re presents.”

“And how many of these bags contain sweets for my little children?” Ryleigh asked in an amused tone, gesturing at our luggage. “I expected three or four bags, as you are both versed with what we lack here, but eighteen?”

I pointed at the one mid-sized suitcase I’d loaded to the brim with chocolate. “That’s mine.”

Sandro pointed at a large suitcase. “That’s mine. Lollipops so I don’t get annoyed with the idiots surely running around.”

“I’m uncertain you brought enough with you to cope with the vast number of idiots plaguing my city. Should you run out, I’ll find you more candies. I prefer when the songbirds have sweets rather than sing sour songs tainted from the endless annoyances we must endure.”

I considered her words, realizing she meant to warn me about something. “There’s a pulse going on?”

Pulses happened in New Orleans. The first time I’d experienced one, it had terrified me into shapeshifting into my fox form. As I’d been in Ryleigh’s parlor at the time, she’d learned my secret, although she’d sworn on her magic she would not betray me.

It had taken her several hours to coax me out from under her divan.

The pulses reminded me of a heartbeat, a reminder the city lived, and she bled magic instead of blood.

“Yes, she pulses,” the Voodoo queen confirmed. “I believe she understands a darkness moves within the South, and that much of the blood spilled in the Alley flows unjustly. Your pet must be very careful, and he should be prepared to disrupt the other songbirds. Few have his control. Nobody sings while she pulses. Or whistles. Or even hums. We are all careful to prevent a single note from slipping out of our lips.”

“And the ghosts?” I asked, turning my ears back. The city’s ghosts—and other denizens—would keep me awake many a night despite the protections Ryleigh put on her homes.

“Those things you rightly fear will not bother you while you’re in my care. Your songbird may whisper a lullaby to them if it is needed. I have already told the other queens of my intention to grant you this boon. Just be careful, Jade’s pet. When the land pulses, your whisper will have more strength than any choir.”

“If that’s so, I could disrupt the entire city with a single note,” Sandro replied with a thoughtful frown. “Is that normal for a pulse?”

“No, it is not normal.”

I eyed where we’d come from and wondered if I could sneak aboard a plane to dodge the pulse.

“Don’t mind little Jade,” Ryleigh stated. “She did not handle her first pulse well. She is too attuned to the land, as are most hybrids. She is better attuned than most. It is what makes her so skilled with her Voodoo.”

“It’s not really Voodoo,” I protested. “My magic, that is. I don’t share your beliefs.”

Ryleigh smiled. “It does not matter what you believe. You honor the intent, so the magic comes when you call. Your life is the prayer your Voodoo responds to. When you walked in Tulsa, you became the one others could rely upon. That is your prayer, and that is the only prayer you need. While I hold faith, not in what you may call Voodoo here, but in something similar, that is not why my magic sings in this land. Our lives and oaths are the source of our power, but our beliefs refine us and transform us into a higher power. You have no need of those oaths or beliefs, for you have found your own path. All I would do is make it so you have a better time controlling those powers here.”

“May I ask a question?” Sandro asked, and he inclined his head to the Voodoo queen.

“Such a polite little pet. Do ask and calm your curiosity.”

“How does she rank here? I want to make certain I am able to serve appropriately. I have not forgotten my lessons,” he assured her.

“No, you’re far too smart to forget your role here. My sister queen told me you were as wise as you were handsome. My other sister queen was pleased when the Moretti family claimed her at the auction, for you were the top candidate to receive our little vixen. You two could rule this city if you wished. You have full control over your music, and you may be the only one who can sing while our city pulses. As for your fox? She is a matchless jewel. Should she show it to you, her Voodoo is a thing of beauty, and she need not hold onto a talisman to bend nature to her whim. You will find she is reclusive and shy with her magic, however.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “You honor me, Ryleigh.”

“You’ve improved on your etiquette, my dear child. Well done. Before, you would have told me I needed to have my head examined.”

“You do need to have your head examined, but I was trying to avoid repeating myself,” I countered.

The Voodoo queen laughed. “As the city pulses, your pet need not wear his leash, although I would keep him close. Songbirds who wish to sing dark dirges gather in my city, and he would be a target for their madness.”

I eyed the bejeweled leash attached to Sandro’s collar, flicking an ear forward before flattening them both back to indicate I’d received her warning. “I feel my leash is too long right now, Ryleigh.”

“I knew you would understand. Let us take your things to my home, and then we will talk in earnest about what transpires here and in your beloved Alley. This Mansfield has crossed many lines, and the Queens of New Orleans have spoken. He shall be dealt with, harshly. But we must do what is best for the bleeding city of Tulsa, so we must step with care until there is no hope left for those pinned beneath his thumb. What we can do from here? That I am not certain of—yet. But my sisters wait for you and your pet, and we shall see what we can accomplish in the little time left for your fading home. I merely pray to every god and goddess who might listen that we can act before the little hope we have goes up in smoke.”