Now suspicion replaced my weariness. “What is?”

He ignored me, scooping up Dexter and grunting at the dog’s weight. “Don’t worry, baby, Daddy’s not leaving you behind.”

“Neither one of you are going anywhere,” Bones said flatly.

Tyler looked at him as though he were the one who’d just lost his mind.

“Boyfriend, let me spell it out for you. You owe me huge, and I’m cashing in. You have any idea what a big deal Marie is in the medium world? It’s like finding out Santa Claus is real and getting a first-class ticket to his workshop!”

I tried logic even though I doubted it would work. “You don’t understand, Tyler. She’s dangerous.”

An eyeroll. “I didn’t expect her to have spent the past hundred years knitting.”

Actually, Marie did knit. She also could summon spectres called Remnants that cut through the living and undead with laughable ease, plus work enough black magic to blow up a city. And then there was her power over ghosts.

Yeah, Marie was scary, all right. If I hadn’t fought and bled beside Tate and the others for years, I would reconsider asking Marie for help. If she agreed, she wouldn’t want to be compensated by money. No, she’d want something far more valuable.

I met Bones’s gaze. The look in his dark brown eyes said he expected this to be every bit as dangerous as I did, yet there was no lessening of resolve on his lean, hard features.

“They’re my people, raised by my blood or sworn to it, and no Master leaves his people behind when there’s a chance to save them.”

I wasn’t Master of a line, but I agreed with every word. No real friend would leave their friends behind to die, either.

“Looks like we’re going to New Orleans,” I said softly.

Tyler let out an exasperated noise. “Can we quit talking about it and do it already?”

Four

The lights of New Orleans glittered like crystals against the dark waters surrounding the long bridge that led us into the city. Finally, we were here. It had been almost a day drive considering that we had to swing by our Blue Ridge home to pick up my cat. We couldn’t fly into New Orleans because of the garlic-and-marijuana satchels we packed in case Marie sicced her spectral spies on us. As for renting an RV instead of taking our car, well, this wasn’t the first time I’d gone on a road trip with Dexter. The dog’s farts could be considered chemical warfare, and the extra space gave me somewhere to run.

We’d just turned into the French Quarter when Tyler let out a blissful sigh.

“There they are.”

I glanced out the window. Ghosts covered the French Quarter more plentifully than plastic beads during Mardi Gras. They floated through throngs of tourists, hung out on rooftops, in bars, and, of course, drifted through the city’s famous cemeteries. The most remarkable thing about them was how many were sentient. Most ghosts tended to be repeats of a moment in time, unable to think, just endlessly acting out the same incident. Not surprisingly, a lot of those incidents related to their deaths. Death was a momentous event for everyone.