Chapter 9
DEANDRA
The supernatural chill creeping through Willowberry was connected to the ancient, hungry creature trying to turn our city into its personal feeding ground.
I could feel the Collector's influence spreading like a malignant tumor around the plantation's protective wards.
Every corrupted inch of it made my empathic abilities scream in protest.
"How long do we have before this place becomes completely compromised?" Dani asked, as she stared at the ancient oaks that were still slowly recovering from their brush with supernatural blight.
"Hard to say," Phi replied, consulting her tablet where she'd been tracking the intensity of the Collector's assault on our defenses. "At this pace, maybe six hours before our wards fail entirely."
"Which means we can't wait for tonight," Dre said. Her voice carried the tone that meant she was about to suggest something incredibly dangerous. "I’ve been thinking, and I think we need to contact the original Guardians while we still have some protection here."
"Attempt contact how?" Kota asked. “I assume you’re talking about Dea using her gift.”
I took a shaky breath, knowing what had to be done but dreading it more than I'd ever dreaded anything. "Yeah. She’s talking about me doing a spirit calling ritual. I think we should do it at Congo Square during the witching hour when the veil is thinnest. That’s where we are likely to get the best results. "
“Absolutely not,” Dani said immediately. “That place is ground zero for the Collector's power. It'll be like painting a target on your back and then doing interpretive dance in front of a supernatural sniper.”
“It's the only way,” I insisted, even as my stomach churned at the thought. “The original binding circle is there. If any of the Guardian spirits can still manifest, that's where they'll be strongest.”
“Dre is right,” Adèle projected into all our minds. “Congo Square holds the deepest spiritual resonance. I don’t think it’s a stretch to think some of the guardians are there trying to preserve their binding. However, it will be dangerous. She will need you guys to protect her.”
Our sleek, grey familiar sat perched on the porch railing. Her coloring was reminiscent of a Siamese. She had striking light blue eyes that reflected an intelligence far beyond her age. Though Adèle was barely over a year old, she carried the accumulated knowledge of her ancestors.
Lia checked her phone. "It's already eleven PM. We need to leave now if we want to be set up and ready by the witching hour."
"Shit," Dre said as she ran toward our magical kitchen. "That barely gives us enough time to get there and set up proper protection." It was our Sanctum where we kept all of our magical supplies and brewed our potions.
"What kind of protection are we talking about?" Kota panted as she tried to keep up. "Because last time we were at Congo Square, that thing nearly turned Dea's brain into supernatural soup."
The memory of the empathic assault I'd suffered there made me wince. I pushed the fear aside. "We'll need a full ceremonial circle. Salt barriers, blessed candles, protective totems from every magical tradition we can access. And all of you anchoring me while I make contact."
"This is insane," Dani muttered as she pushed through the door. "But I suppose dying heroically is better than dying while cowering under the bed."
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kota countered as she began stuffing things into the bag she still had over her shoulder.
“Kaitlyn is on her way to help Cami reinforce the wards while you're gone,” Adèle interjected.
“I had Cami call her while you were gone.
The High Witch's power combined with Cami's knowledge of the plantation's defenses should strengthen the barriers against the Collector's attacks. But you must move quickly. Each hour weakens our position as it tests our wards.”
We spent the next twenty minutes frantically turning the magical kitchen into a supernatural war room.
Books were hastily spread across surfaces, ritual supplies were thrown into bags with military precision, and Adèle supervised the entire operation.
"The protective circle will need to be large enough for all six of you," she projected while perched regally on the table.
"Deandra will be at the center, channeling the spirit communication, while the rest of you maintain barriers against interference. "
"What kind of interference are we expecting?" Lia asked.
"The Collector will sense the moment you establish contact with the Guardian spirits," Adèle explained. "It will do everything in its power to prevent that communication and make you its next victims."
"Cheerful," Kota said dryly. "Anything else we should know before we voluntarily walk into hell?"
"The original Guardians sacrificed their lives to create the binding," Adèle continued.
"Their spirits have been fighting the Collector's influence for over a century.
They're not the peaceful dead you usually communicate with, Deandra.
They're warriors, and they may not immediately trust your intentions. "
Perfect. Not only did I have to worry about the Collector trying to fry my brain. I also had to be afraid that the spirits I was trying to reach might decide I was the enemy and attack me themselves. The crazy part about that is this was an average day in the life of a Twisted Sister.
"Do not let fear cloud your judgment," Adèle added. "Your empathic abilities are both your greatest vulnerability and your strongest asset in this endeavor. Trust in your sisters' power to anchor you."
We grabbed salt from the blessed containers, candles that had been charging on the windowsills, and protective amulets that Cami kept stocked for emergencies.
With our go-bags loaded down, we rushed out to Lia's SUV in the parking lot.
"Everyone in," Lia called as she slid behind the wheel. "We're cutting this way too close."
Kota slid into the passenger seat while the rest of us piled into the back with our hastily gathered arsenal.
The moment the last door slammed shut, Lia hit the gas, and we were racing through the plantation gates into the Louisiana night.
The drive to Congo Square felt like a race against time—literally.
We had enough magical supplies to stock a small shop. It had been hastily thrown together. Hopefully, it was sufficient. "Park here," I told Lia as we reached the edge of Louis Armstrong Park. "Traffic is light this time of night, and we can hide the car so you don’t get a ticket."
"Great minds,” she replied as she slid to a stop along the curb.
We jumped out and cast a spell keeping the vehicle hidden from mundane eyes.
The square itself was deserted. That should have been reassuring.
Instead, it felt ominous. The ancient oaks that had witnessed centuries of spiritual practice loomed overhead like silent sentinels.
Their branches created a natural cathedral that had hosted everything from enslaved people's Sunday gatherings to modern drum circles.
"The magical resonance is even higher than earlier," Phi reported as she checked her phone.
Running my hands over my arms, I nodded. "It’s practically vibrating with accumulated spiritual energy.”
"Good energy or bad energy?" Dani asked as she and Lia began laying out the salt circle according to the precise measurements we'd calculated.
"Both," I replied, opening my empathic senses just enough to get a read on the area. "There are centuries of joy, sorrow, hope, and despair all layered on top of each other. It's like reading an emotional palimpsest."
“The layers of spiritual energy there run deeper than most places on Earth,” Adèle observed through our mental bond. She could speak to us despite being back at the plantation. Her voice was tinged with the reverence I felt. “Tread carefully, child. This ground remembers everything.”
We worked in frantic but efficient silence.
Each of us handled our assigned tasks with the kind of coordination that came from months of supernatural crisis management and the pressing knowledge that midnight was approaching fast. Kota placed protective totems at the cardinal points while Dre lit blessed candles.
Phi prepared the offerings of rum, tobacco, and flowers.
It honored the various spiritual traditions represented in the original Guardian alliance.
At exactly 11:59 PM, I stepped into the center of the circle. For a split second, Congo Square's spiritual history settled over me. The veil between worlds was tissue-thin there as midnight approached. I felt the presence of countless spirits just beyond the other side.
"Remember," Dre called softly, "if anything goes wrong, we will pull you out immediately. No heroics."
"Stupid isn’t on the agenda tonight," I replied, though we both knew that if the Collector decided to make an appearance, there might not be time for extraction procedures.
“I will monitor things through our bond,” Adèle promised. “If the entity attempts to use your connection as a pathway to your sisters, I will sever the link myself.”
“Thank you,” I told her as some of the pressure in my chest eased. I felt better knowing she could help.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my empathic abilities, searching for the specific spiritual signatures of the original Guardians.
The response was immediate and absolutely overwhelming.
It was like grabbing a live wire made of concentrated anguish and determination.
Every nerve ending in my body screamed in protest as centuries of pain, rage, and stubborn refusal to give up slammed into my consciousness all at once.
Yeah, this was definitely going to suck.
"Who dares disturb our vigil?" The voice echoed through my consciousness with the force of a nuclear bomb. "Who calls upon those who died to hold back the darkness?"