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 front door was locked, but warm illumination from the second-floor research room confirmed Delphine was waiting for him. He knocked softly, knowing she would catch the sound despite the building’s solid construction.
Footsteps on wooden floors, the click of locks being turned, and then she stood in the doorway. Hair pulled back in a loose bun, sleeves rolled up from hours of document handling, the kind of focused exhaustion that marked serious research.
“Mr. Durand. Right on time.” She stepped aside to let him enter. “I’ve been looking forward to this consultation.”
“I appreciate you staying after hours.” The words came easily enough, though the locket’s heat against his thigh made every syllable feel weighted with deception. “I hope what I have to share will be worth your time.”
“I’m certain it will be. I’ve been working with some fascinating family records since this afternoon—connections between bloodlines that suggest more intermarriage among the old Creole families than standard genealogies indicate.”
She led him upstairs to the research room, where documents covered every available surface. Family trees drawn in careful ink, photocopied parish records, hand-drawn maps showing property ownership patterns across multiple generations. The kind of exhaustive analysis that revealed hidden connections between people separated by decades or centuries.
The locket pulsed against Bastien’s skin the moment they entered the room.
Not the gentle warmth he’d experienced that morning, but active vibration that now seemed to match the rhythm of Delphine’s heartbeat. Metal heating against his leg as if responding to proximity with something it had indeed been designed to find.
“I’ve been digging deeper into those supernatural incidents we discussed,” Delphine said, gesturing toward a particular section of the table covered with new materials. “Cross-referencing police reports, hospital records, even some private correspondence I found in the restricted collections. The pattern is more extensive than I initially thought—and more recent.”
She moved around the table, pointing out specific connections, and the locket’s vibration increased with each step that brought her closer to where he stood. By the time she reached for a particular document, the metal was almost too hot to bear.
“This parish record from 1906 mentions a Delia Moreau whose death in the Saenger Theatre fire was . . .” She paused, studying his expression. “Are you feeling all right? You look pale.”
“Fine,” he managed, though sweat was beginning to bead along his hairline from the locket’s heat. “What were you saying about Delia Moreau?”
“Her death was listed as smoke inhalation, but witness statements describe her being found in an area of the building that shouldn’t have been accessible during the fire. Almost as if someone carried her to safety, then . . .” Delphine shrugged. “Well, then she died anyway. Tragic story.”
She reached for another document, and as her hand passed within inches of where the locket rested, the artifact responded with such violent vibration that Bastien gasped.
The sound brought her attention back to his face, concern replacing academic interest. “Mr. Durand, are you certain you’re well? You’re breathing rather heavily.”
“Just warm in here,” he said, stepping away from the table to gain distance from whatever was triggering the locket’s increasingly violent response.
But as he moved, she moved as well, turning to face him directly, and the locket’s vibration became a continuous hum that threatened to burn through his shirt.
Delphine tilted her head, listening. “Do you hear that? Sounds like . . . humming? Almost musical.”
The soul marked talisman was resonating so intensely now that sound was beginning to escape containment. Charlotte’s creation recognizing its target after decades of dormancy, responding to proximity with the reincarnated essence it had been crafted to find.
“I should go,” Bastien said, backing toward the research room door. “Let you return to your work.”
“Wait.” Delphine’s voice carried new intensity, professional curiosity overriding social politeness. “That sound is definitely coming from you. Some kind of device? Medical monitoring equipment?”
She stepped closer, and the locket’s vibration became so violent that he could feel its vibration through his bloodstream. Metal humming with lifeline echo flare that seemed to synchronize with Delphine’s breathing, her heartbeat, the rhythm of her movements.
“I really should—”
But she was already reaching toward his arm, an instinctive response to obvious distress. Her fingers brushed against his jacket directly over where the locket normally rested around his neck, and the artifact exploded into motion.
The metal disk shot from inside his pocket as if propelled by invisible force, sailing across the research room to land on the table with a sound like struck bronze. There it continued to vibrate so violently that papers scattered and pencils rolled toward the edges.
Delphine stared at the locket in shocked silence, watching silver light pulse from within its engraved surface. “What in God’s name . . .?”
The artifact rolled across the table’s surface, leaving trails of warm light on paper, moving with purpose rather than random momentum. Straight toward the Lacroix genealogical charts, across Marie’s family tree, stopping precisely on top of the entry for Charlotte Lacroix, born 1742, died 1763.