“Amelia?”

Gaby’s frightened voice sounded faraway, muffled by distance. Which made absolutely no sense, considering the fact that she stood only a few feet away from me.

“Amelia, what’s happening to you? You’re … fading,” she seemed to whisper.

“I’m what?”

I could hardly speak, hardly concentrate through the headache. I forced my neck into an arch and tried to lock eyes with Gaby. But before I could do so, black flooded my vision completely.

I blinked rapidly against the darkness, and, strangely, the effort worked.

My vision began to refocus—hazy at first and then clearer, until finally I could see just as well as I had before the headache.

But in that brief interim a few things had changed.

Before, the narrow halls and low ceilings of the Mayhews’ town house had surrounded me. Now I kneeled outside, staring up at a partially enclosed structure that looked an awful lot like the Toulouse Street Wharf.

Then there was the issue of my company. Gaby had disappeared, as had Ruth Mayhew. In their place, a small group of people faced me: Hayley, Drew, Jillian, Annabel … and Alex.

Grinning widely, he took one step forward. “Merry Christmas, Amelia. And welcome to the séance.”

Chapter

TWENTY-SEVEN

Before I even processed what he said, I’d bolted upward and retreated back across the small footbridge leading to Toulouse. Alex mirrored my movements, walking forward as I edged backward.

Behind him, the young Seers stood motionless. Except …

All four of them appeared to sway on their feet, as if they were trying to stay vertical during an earthquake. Keeping most of my attention on Alex, I tried to study them more closely from the corner of my eye.

Each of them—Hayley, Drew, Annabel, Jillian—looked dazed; bleary-eyed and unfocused. On the ground, just to the right of Drew, I could see a wine bottle tipped onto its side. Just one bottle, though, which bothered me. After all, the young Seers seemed way too drunk for only one bottle of wine shared among the four of them.

Alex caught me staring at them, and his smile widened. In a voice far calmer than I actually felt, I said, “You drugged them, too, didn’t you?”

He nodded slowly, still pacing closer to me. “That was the last part of our summoning ritual—the part they didn’t know about. Well, one of the parts they didn’t know about.”

A corner of my mouth twisted in confusion. “Why drug people who are part of your plan … whatever your plan is?”

“They’ve been helping me,” Alex explained in an amiable tone. “But none of them really knew why, or what for. Jillian spied on you in Wilburton, especially when you’d go visit the river. She also told the Quarter ghosts where to find you on your first night here, while I performed a few spells to sabotage your materializations. But Jillian thought I was helping you find some new friends so you’d leave her brother alone. When you didn’t join those ghosts immediately, I moved on to Annabel, who sent Joshua to the Conjure Café at my suggestion. But Annabel just wanted to help him help you. After that, Hayley negotiated with the Quarter ghosts for your capture, but she stupidly thought it was a staged exercise in her Seer training—just practice in speaking to ghosts, not an actual attempt to trap you. And Drew—well, he’s relatively useless. But I needed his strength for the summoning spell tonight.”

“That’s … what pulled me here tonight,” I said haltingly. “Isn’t it?”

He nodded, chuckling. “They think we were calling you back, for Joshua. Because he’s been so sad since you left.”

He said the words “so sad” in a singsong tone, mocking Joshua. Mocking me. Perhaps I should have responded with something biting, but I’d temporarily fallen mute.

A chill shuddered its way down my arms. Obviously, I’d suspected Annabel’s involvement. But all of them? Jillian guiding the Faders to Jackson Square, where Alex must have redirected me; Hayley inadvertently acting as the Faders’ intermediary; Annabel sending me to Marie for … what, I wasn’t sure yet.

If none of the young Seers meant to harm me, then what exactly was going on? When I demanded that Alex tell me as much, he chuckled again.

“Jillian followed you today, Amelia, to this very spot. Even though you learned how to hide yourself from us, Jillian’s learned to listen, too, just like the rest of them. And you know what she overheard? Your plans to open a place I also want to enter very, very badly.”

I frowned, shaking my head fiercely. “The … the netherworld? I don’t even know how to enter it, and I’ve been trying for months. Besides, I think you have to be dead to do that.”

Alex had been staring absently at the swaying, disoriented Seers. But when he heard my last statement, his head whipped back toward me. The scant moonlight fell across his face and made it look bleached and gaunt, like a skull.

“That’s a small price to pay,” he whispered, “for what I want.”

I couldn’t help but gasp. “You want to die?”

He merely flashed me a wide smile in response.

It was a ghastly, freakish expression, devoid of humor and warmth. Smiling like that, he really did resemble a skeleton.

A strangled noise wormed its way out of my lips. “You’re insane,” I hissed.

He let out a slithery sort of laugh. “I’m also a descendant of Delphine LaLaurie, and those two traits have gone hand in hand for over a century.”

“Who did you just say you were?”

Something about his ancestor’s name bothered me. Something familiar …

Alex wandered casually back to the other Seers, who still swayed drunkenly on their feet. As he walked, he pressed his hand on their shoulders, pushing them downward. One by one, they dropped messily into seated positions on the concrete, which I could see had been lined with Voodoo dust. Part of their summoning ritual, probably.

While I watched him, Alex began to speak blandly, as if he were recounting a dull piece of history.

“In the eighteen hundreds,” he said, “a wealthy Quarter woman named Delphine LaLaurie tortured and murdered many of her slaves. But before that happened, she had several daughters. I’m descended from one of them.”

“And?” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. The more calmly he spoke, the edgier I felt.

“And,” he emphasized, “there are certain things that she passed on to her heirs. Most historians don’t know this, but Delphine heard voices. Voices that told her terrible things and drove her mad. Doctors would label it schizophrenia today; but I know better, especially since I hear them myself. Have, ever since I was a child. That’s why it’s been so easy to teach these little Seers to hear them, too.”

“The voices of the dead,” I stated flatly. “Delphine heard them, and so do you.”

Alex snapped his fingers, grinning. “You’re a smart cookie, Amelia. Couple that with your special talents, and it’s no wonder they want you.”

“‘They’?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“The ones I want to serve. The ones who talk to me, sometimes, when the ghosts are quiet.”

“Demons?” I breathed. “They … speak to you? And you want to serve them?”

“Of course I do. They’re the only family I have.”

“But I thought you said—”

“I did,” he snapped, his smile gone. “I did have a family. And the minute I showed my genetic inheritance, they had me diagnosed as a schizophrenic and shipped off to a ‘home.’ Just like my grandfather, great-grandmother, and on and on for generations in one long line of heartwarming family betrayal.”