“Your mawmaw Barb sounds…interesting.” I pull a dubious face.

Daniel laughs. “She is that. I take it you don’t believe in spirits.”

I shrug, noncommittal. “Never much considered it. I’m not religious, if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s not.”

I wait for him to explain. It’s not that I don’t believe Daniel or the spirits or whatever; I just don’t believe much of anything. I know what Moony believed, and it never really registered with me. I’m not completely clear on what my mom believes—though it’s night and day from Moony—but it’s too hard to take anything she says or does seriously when I know the illness is always there lurking. But after my run-ins of late, my dreams and whatever you call what happened in the cathedral and the courtyard and on my walk here yesterday, I don’t feel like I’m in a position to be certain about anything anymore. My own sense of reality is unraveling at the seams.

“My family has a religion; my grandmother and mother and aunties all go to church every Sunday. But then we have our beliefs. They’re something else entirely. Not opposed, just different. My mawmaw Barb inherited her beliefs from her mother and mother-in-law and passed them on to me. You feel me? They’re older than church, deeper than religion. They’re part of our faith, beyond what any priest or preacher can tell you. It’s not that unusual around here.” Daniel’s eyebrows raise. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

I laugh it off. “No, of course not. Having a belief doesn’t make someone crazy. Lots of very sane, very functional people have those.” I think of Moony’s superstitions, always making me throw one heel of the bread away without eating it. Bad luck, Cat. Never eat both ends or you’ll lose money. Or the way she would never sweep under my feet because she said it meant I wouldn’t get married.

Daniel grins. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to convince me or yourself.”

I toss a dishcloth at him. “Stop it.”

“I guess New Orleans doesn’t exactly provide a conventional upbringing.”

“Well, you’re in good company because I wouldn’t know anything about those.”

Daniel smiles at me, and this time it is full and bright and brimming with gratitude. “You’re something,” he says after a minute. “You know that? I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Something gushes through me, a wave of oxytocin. I think I feel myself lifting, an instantaneous rush that is gone just as suddenly as it arrived. I look at Daniel. Is he causing this? Is this what it feels like to fall for someone?

“In all seriousness,” he says, straightening. “Tell me about this feeling.”

I decide I like his term better. “The needle, you mean?”

“Right.”