Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
The Archive buzzed with activity despite the early hour. Researchers and genealogy enthusiasts bent over materials documenting Louisiana’s complex cultural heritage. Delphine worked at her usual desk, surrounded by manila folders and handwritten notes that suggested she’d been there for hours.
She looked up as he approached, and her smile sent familiar warmth through his chest. “Mr. Durand. Back for more historical context?”
“I need your help with something more immediate.” He set sketches he had made of Emmett’s markings on her desk, maintaining professional neutrality. “These symbols appeared on a person exposed to some kind of supernatural incident. I’m hoping you can identify their origin.”
Delphine studied the drawings with focused attention. As her fingers traced the lines he’d recreated from memory, the keepsake locket grew warm against his chest.
“Fascinating,” she murmured. “The base structure resembles soul-binding sigils from 18th-century occult manuscripts, but there are modifications I’ve never seen before. These additional curves and intersecting lines . . .” She pulled out a magnifying glass, examining details that made the locket pulse with increasing heat. “They look parasitic, like something has infected the original design and changed its purpose.”
“Infected how?”
“The original sigils were designed to preserve spiritual connections across physical death. Very advanced theoretical work, though most practitioners considered it too dangerous to attempt.” She opened a reference book, flipping to a page containing Charlotte’s family sigils. “But these modifications seem designed to force connections onto unwilling subjects. To conscript souls into spiritual networks whether they consent or not.”
As she spoke, her hand moved to her throat, fingers touching something beneath her blouse. A pendant—the same unconscious gesture Emmett had described.
“May I ask about your necklace?”
She looked puzzled, then self-conscious. “It’s . . . I don’t remember buying it. Found it in my jewelry box last week, but it feels familiar somehow. Like something I’ve always owned.” She pulled the chain free, revealing a small silver locket that made Bastien’s heart stop.
Identical to the keepsake he carried—same size, same engravings, even the same tarnish patterns that spoke of age and careful handling. But where his locket contained Delia’s pressed violet, this one was empty, waiting for something to fill the void at its center.
Charlotte had made two lockets. One for him to carry, one that would find its way to her reincarnated soul when the time was right.
“Interesting craftsmanship,” he managed, though his voice sounded strained.
“Isn’t it? I keep meaning to research the maker’s marks, but I haven’t found time.” She tucked the locket back beneath her blouse, but not before he noticed how it caught the light—not reflecting illumination but generating its own subtle glow. “Anyway, about these symbols. If someone is using modified soul-binding magic to mark unwilling subjects, we’re dealing with seriously dangerous territory.”
She leaned closer to examine the sketches. The proximity made both lockets pulse with synchronized rhythm, their harmonics creating a standing wave of mystical energy that thickened the air.
The papers began to smoke.
Not burning but releasing thin wisps of vapor that carried the scent of burned roses and copper—the same mystical signature that had marked Emmett’s house and the Preservation Hall incident. As Delphine’s breath touched the ink, the symbols began to glow with faint silver light, pulsing in rhythm with the dual lockets.
“What . . .” she began, then stopped as the phenomenon intensified.
The sketches grew hot beneath her fingers, their lines brightening until the sigils seemed to lift from the paper entirely. For a moment, they hung in the air between them—living symbols of mystical force that recognized her presence and responded to proximity with her inherited essence.
Delphine jerked her hands back, but the damage was done. The spirit imprint embedded in Charlotte’s corrupted sigils had made contact with its intended target. The resonant inheritance flowing through her bloodline had awakened forces dormant for decades, waiting for the moment when the right soul would touch the right combination of symbols and complete circuits that spanned centuries.
“I think,” she said slowly, staring at her fingertips where traces of silver light still flickered, “we should probably discuss what kind of forces we’re dealing with here.”
The locket against Bastien’s chest burned like a coal, its metal growing so hot he could feel it through his shirt. But he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not until he understood what Maestro’s revelations meant for her safety and choices.
Instead, he gathered the sketches, noting how they’d been changed by contact with her essence. The lines were darker now, more defined, as if her touch had strengthened whatever power they contained.
“Perhaps we should schedule a more private consultation,” he said. “What I’m investigating may be more complex than standard historical research can address.”
“I was afraid you might say that.” But her tone suggested curiosity rather than concern. “My schedule is clear this evening. Would seven o’clock work? I could stay after hours, and we’d have the Archive to ourselves.”