Although it was only early April, New Orleans was already hot and sticky.
The car pulled up in front of a building—
The LaLaurie House.
The infamous noblewoman had loved torturing her Black slaves so much she'd turned her home into a literal house of horrors. Rumor said she even wrote a whole codex on the best ways to break them.
Soren stood at the gate and closed his eyes.
In an instant the barking dogs and passing cars vanished from his hearing.
Thump.
In the sudden silence, heartbeats rose around him—one by one. From the people nearby, from inside the house, and from somewhere beneath a tree in the backyard.
Soren opened his eyes.
This was one of the new tricks his sharpened spirit could pull. When he focused, he could filter out everything he didn't want to hear and lock onto the sounds that mattered. It had limits, though. He could only catch physical noises. Telepathy, magic whispers, or silent thoughts stayed invisible to him.
He led Fiona and the girls around the side of the house into the backyard.
A staff member in uniform stepped out and blocked their path. "Sorry, we're not open yet. You'll have to come back later."
Fiona pulled off her sunglasses and stared straight into his eyes. "You don't care about this. Go back inside."
The man's gaze went glassy for half a second. Then he smiled like they were old friends. "Of course. Take your time."
He wandered off without another word.
Soren watched quietly. That kind of direct mind control was nasty. If he'd met her before his bloodline broke through, she probably would've had him drooling on the floor before he even realized what was happening.
Zoe and Madison traded a look behind him, both clearly rattled.
Soren stopped under an old tree and studied the mossy bricks at its base.
"Is it here?"
Fiona hurried over, eyes bright with hunger.
"Right underneath us."
Soren stepped back. "Then dig."
Fiona didn't lift a finger.
The ground split open with a wet crack. Soil exploded upward on both sides like a fountain. Seconds later a rotting wooden coffin rose from the earth, lifted by invisible force.
Muffled, panicked whimpers leaked from inside.
They pried the lid open.
Curled up in the filth was a fat white woman in a filthy old-fashioned dress. A rag was stuffed in her mouth. Heavy iron chains bound her wrists and ankles. Her eyes were wide with raw animal terror.
They hauled the coffin straight back to the academy.
This time Fiona didn't play games. She took Soren down to a sealed basement room. She bit her finger and smeared blood across the iron door. The seal broke with a low groan.
The air inside smelled like old paper and secrets.
Shelves lined the walls, packed with scrolls and grimoires.
"You can only take the basic theory and elemental stuff," Fiona said from the doorway. "Nothing higher."
"Give me a reason."
"Every advanced black-magic text and witch secret carries a blood oath from past Supremes," she said coldly. "Even if you stole them, you couldn't use them."
Soren nodded. He wasn't here for the heavy stuff anyway. He just wanted solid foundations for Patty and Carrie. He could hunt down the advanced books later if they proved worth the trouble.
He grabbed everything that looked useful from the outer shelves until a small mountain of books sat on the floor. Then he waved his hand and dumped the whole pile into the Silent Hill domain.
Fiona's eye twitched.
Soren dusted off his hands. "We're done here."
She nodded, already smiling to herself. Her mind was clearly on the noblewoman waiting upstairs and the immortality she planned to squeeze out of her.
Soren stepped outside and checked the address Papa Midnight had given him.
If he wanted Zoe to become Supreme without spending years babysitting her, there were only two real options. Let her grow naturally… or force it. Natural growth took too long, and Fiona would probably murder the girl the second she felt threatened. That left the fast track.
He needed to talk to the Voodoo Queen.
Marie Laveau knew witches better than anyone, and she hated Fiona. She could also double-check whether Fiona's earlier divination had been honest.
A brass bell jingled as he pushed open the door of the small barbershop.
Near the front were a few old vanity stations. Further back stood rows of mannequin heads wearing wigs. A woman in a leopard-print tank top was cutting a client's hair, dreads swaying as she worked. She paused when Soren entered.
Marie Laveau looked up. "What do you want?"
Soren gave her an easy smile. "I'd like to make a deal."
She didn't answer right away. She finished with her client, then led him into the back room.
"Who sent you here?"
Soren stayed quiet. Papa Midnight's face had looked like he'd bitten into shit when he said her name. Soren had zero interest in stepping into whatever mess those two had.
"I need a divination," he said instead. He gave her the short version of Patty's attack.
Marie Laveau studied him with cold eyes. "I can do it. But what are you bringing me?"
"Information."
Soren leaned forward slightly. "Do you know Madame LaLaurie?"
Marie's expression went dark in an instant.
"Why the hell are you mentioning that bitch? Don't tell me you're here to beg for her life."
Centuries ago she had cursed the woman and personally hanged her entire family for what she did to Marie's husband.
"She's been dug up," Soren said calmly. "She's alive. And she's in my hands."