Marie Laveau's face went stone cold. She snatched the old landline off the desk and started spitting rapid Creole into the receiver.
A moment later the phone rang back. She listened, then let out a sharp, bitter laugh that didn't reach her eyes.
Nobody in New Orleans could've dug up that coffin without making a sound except that venomous bitch Fiona. No one else had the balls or the power.
"I can help you take her down," Soren said, timing it perfectly.
Marie narrowed her eyes and gave him a long, skeptical once-over. "You? By yourself?"
Fiona was the Supreme Witch of her generation—raw power wrapped in centuries of dirty tricks. Even the Voodoo Queen had to step around her.
What gave this cocky silver-haired kid the right to talk that kind of shit?
Soren didn't waste words. He lifted one hand, curled his fingers into a fist, and drove it straight into the hardwood floor.
The impact cracked like thunder. A half-meter crater bloomed in the floorboards, splinters flying.
Marie's pupils shrank. She didn't know if he could actually kill the Supreme, but that kind of strength was worth keeping close.
"Fine," she said, dropping every trace of mockery. No more games. She asked for Patty's items, then walked to the open center of the room.
This wasn't Fiona's fancy tarot setup. Marie's divination was raw, wild, older than the city itself.
Her eyes rolled back white. Her body started jerking in ugly spasms, low guttural sounds spilling from her throat. The shadows on the walls twisted and crawled like they had minds of their own.
Minutes later something invisible slammed into her. She grunted, flew backward, and crashed into the wall hard enough to rattle the framed photos.
She clutched her chest, breathing ragged, and wiped blood from the corner of her mouth.
"Fuck… whoever's protecting them is strong. My spirits couldn't even get close. There's a barrier around the whole place—kicking out anything that tries to look in."
Soren nodded to himself. Two completely different systems, same answer. Fiona hadn't lied about this part.
He leaned forward. "How do you make a witch grow fast?"
Marie gave a cold little laugh, like he'd asked how to turn a baby into a linebacker overnight. Then she saw his face and realized he was dead serious.
She thought for a second. "Witch power is tied to the soul. To break the slow crawl, you gotta shove them right up to the edge of death and rip the potential out."
She shook her head. "Easy to say. One wrong move and you've got a corpse instead of a witch. Nobody does that shit anymore."
Soren turned it over in his head. It matched what he'd already seen. Witch power didn't climb steady—it exploded in violent jumps. Zoe had shown that on her first day when Madison and the girls scared her half to death.
All you needed was a lethal-enough threat and they could skyrocket.
He rubbed his jaw. A pressure cooker that delivered real death and despair while still letting him control the body count.
Only one place fit: the Silent Hill domain Alessa held.
Throw Zoe into that nightmare, force her to unlock the Seven Wonders in days instead of years. Then kill Fiona and hand the full Supreme power straight to her.
He met Marie's eyes and dropped it flat. "I'm going to kill Fiona and raise a new Supreme."
A dangerous spark lit in Marie's gaze. "You're not worried I'll run and tell her?"
Soren didn't flinch. Marie and Fiona had hated each other for generations—voodoo and the Salem coven bleeding the same streets for a hundred years. Neither of them would ever snitch on the other's death.
Marie watched him stay calm the whole time and sighed. "You're telling me this because you want my help killing her?"
"Don't need it," Soren said. "I can handle her myself."
The casual tone made Marie's pupils shrink. She knew exactly what Fiona could do. They'd been trying to kill each other for decades.
"I'm telling you because once she's gone, I want you inside the academy. Or at least an alliance between voodoo and the witches. Something that actually works both ways."
Marie stared at him like she was finally seeing the full picture. "You've got some serious fucking ambition. Fiona's going to die anyway. You hand me her corpse as a peace offering and think you can grab both major witch factions in New Orleans?"
Soren just nodded. No point pretending otherwise.
"I'm going to run into real trouble soon. A stable intel network would make everything easier. You two working together is the cleanest way."
Marie watched him for a long moment, then spoke again. "An alliance needs more than one dead Supreme."
"Name it."
Anger flashed across her face. "A hundred years ago two thieving bastards stole black magic from my ancestors. They've been soul-swapping into fresh young bodies ever since, staying alive like parasites."
Soren stayed quiet.
"It's an insult to everything voodoo stands for. I've wanted to skin them alive for decades, but they know my tricks too well. The second I get close they feel it and set traps."
She looked him dead in the eye. "You're different. Your power feels demonic. I want you to go to that plantation, kill both of them with your own hands, and bring my ancestors' magic back to me."
Soren looked at the raw murder in her eyes and made the call in half a second.
Killing two regular people in exchange for a voodoo faction's full cooperation? Easiest deal he'd ever made.
"Give me the address."