I pick my way through the brown jars on the steps and whisper to Daniel, “What are these? Potions?”

“Tea,” he whispers back, amused.

I step over a brown tabby curving around our ankles as I make my way inside, my fingers laced through Daniel’s. The living room is full of overstuffed chairs and dark-stained shelves with row upon row of tightly wedged books. Their spines show dust and wear and call out with strange titles like American Conjure, A Rootworker’s Guide to Hexes & Spells, and When Bones Speak. I’m not sure where to sit, so I just stand shoulder to shoulder with Daniel in the middle of the room while Barb and Izora Jo each pull up a chair at the tiny mosaic dining table.

“Now then, what seems to be the problem exactly?”

I let Mawmaw Barb tell most of my story, adding my own bits when she pauses for me to fill in. All the while, Izora Jo nods knowingly, her brown cat rubbing against her large calves.

“Come here, girl,” she says to me when we’re finished.

I take a step closer.

“Give me your dominant hand. Let me take your measure.”

I do as she asks, flashing Daniel a WTF grin. He bites his lower lip.

But Izora Jo’s fingers are soft and cool against my palm as she traces the lines there. I begin to relax beneath them. After a moment, she clasps my hand between both of her own and closes her eyes. I wait, wondering what I’m waiting for exactly, when her lids flap open and her eyes begin to roll back, flashing white. Panic rises in me, but Daniel places a hand on my shoulder. Her lips move in mouthless words, her grip on my hand growing tighter by the second, until at last she lets go and gasps for breath like she’s been underwater.

“Well?” Mawmaw Barb asks. “Did you get anything?”

The older woman blinks and looks at me. “This bond is too strong to be broken by a simple conjure. It’s blood that ties them, not water. And something else.”

She peers at me and my legs feel weak.

“Something inside the girl that won’t let go,” she finishes. “Not yet.”

I rub the palm of my hand on my jeans as if I can rub away what she’s seen.

“Is she in any danger?” Daniel’s grandmother asks.

Izora Jo inhales sharply. “How long has this been with you?”

Even though I can’t say what “this” is, I know the answer to her question. “Since coming here.”

She nods. “New Orleans is unlike any other place in the world. Here, you stand in one of the oldest cities in this country, on some of the youngest land. The river birthed the delta, and the delta birthed the basin, and the basin birthed the city, and it’s anyone’s guess why.”

I smile weakly at her.