He stared at me, incredulous, shaking his head at me like I was some kind of misbehaving child. "Why would you think it was safe for you to go in there?"

"It didn't seem like that big of a deal at the time," I said weakly. "You and Lucy both have been in there and nothing happened."

"Lucy and I don't have an evil witch for a mother," he snapped. As soon as the words were out, his eyes widened, like he realized what he'd said. "I'm sorry, baby. I"

"Forget it," I said, cutting off his apology. I didn't want to hear it, and I certainly didn't want to think about the implications of what he'd saidthat he saw something wrong with me because of the blood in my veins. My throat was as painfully tight as it had been when those icy fingers had squeezed it.

"I'm trying to keep you alive," Piers told me, a pained expression dimming his eyes. He took a step toward me, but I pulled back. I didn't want his pity or apology.

"I don't need a keeper, Piers."

But he didn't respond to that, so maybe he thought I did need one.

"You're going to have to step back some and trust me again," I told him. "I can't keep living with you breathing down my neck and questioning every choice I make."

The stiffness in his shoulders broadcast all his frustration, all his worry without saying a word. "You don't have any idea what it was like that night, Chloe. You don't know what you put me through all those weeks leading up to ityou were so cold and distant."

"That wasn't me," I reminded him.

"I didn't know it wasn't you at the time," he said, his eyes shadowed with the memory of those days.

"But you know now."

"Yeah." Piers's jaw was tight. "I know a lot of things now," he said, but there was something in his tone I didn't like.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked warily.

He looked me dead in the eye before he spoke again, like he wanted me to know that what he was about to say was important. "It means that I know what it's like to stare into the face of evil and realize it's a face I've known and laughed with and actually liked. And I know what it's like to aim a gun steady at your chest and know that I could pull the trigger," he said, his voice so rough it broke at the end.

My shoulders sagged a little at the emotion in his words. "Is that what this is about?" I asked. "You still feel guilty?"

"It's more than guilt," he said softly, before he finally glanced away.

I took an uneasy breath as I thought about all the other things that might be causing the way he'd been treating me lately, but none of them were good. "You would have saved me," I told him.

"By killing you," he said darkly. His eyes met mine and I saw the pain in them, the horror of that night still haunting him.

"But you didn't kill me," I reminded him.

"Chloe, there was a moment in that cemetery when I knew I wouldthat I couldpull the trigger if I had to." He let out a ragged breath and shook his head. "Every time I look at you, I keep seeing that moment over again. There was a split second where I knew what it was going to be like to lose you, and I was going to do it anyway."

I took a step closer, my heart aching even as I couldn't quite shake off all the anger. "You can't save me from any of this, Piers. You can't keep standing in front of me, either." I laced my fingers through his. "You're going to have to let what happened that night go, or eventually there'll just be you and me and nothing between but what used to be. Is that what you want?"

He squeezed my hand and for the length of a heartbeat, I thought he understood. I thought he would tell me all the things I needed to hear.

"Why were you gone so long, Chloe?" he asked instead.

For a moment, I was too disappointed to speak. He hadn't heard or understood a thing I'd just said to him, and I wasn't sure what to do with that.

But that bit of hesitation on my part was apparently all he needed to pull his hand away and take a step back from me. "We should get going," he said, changing the subject. "Lucy and I have been waiting all morning for you to get back so we can go see Mama Legba."

"Piers" I started, but my voice sounded so damned pathetic that I stopped myself. Not that he heard me. Not that he even looked back. He was already up the three steps and through front door before I could stop him.

Six.

The drive back into the oldest part of New Orleans wasn't a pleasant one. None of us really said muchLucy seemed to be giving us some space, but Piers seemed perfectly happy to let that space grow in the uneasy silence of the car. By the time we found a place to park a few blocks down from Mama Legba's, I was on edge, and I think Lucy and Piers were, too.

The atmosphere in the Quarter didn't help much. The streets were already swarming with tourists out seeing the sights or weaving drunkenly on the sidewalks. To get to the alley that led to Mama Legba's shop, we had to push our way through a group of people who had gathered to listen to a mournful brass band moaning out some life-done-me-wrong blues. But even those lonesome notes sounded too cheerful for the dark mood I was carrying with me.

Mama Legba had a couple of customers when we walked into the shop, so we pretended we were browsing the selection of Gris-Gris and amulets until she finished up with them. But as soon as they had paid and she'd bid them a blessed day, the smile slid from her face. She flipped her sign and locked the front door behind them.

"I was expecting you earlier," she said, the question clear in her voice.

"That was my fault," I volunteered before Piers could speak up. "Sorry."

Mama Legba pinned me with an inquisitive look, but then gave me a nod. "Well, come on back then. We got things to talk over."

She already had a kettle of water on the stove that she set to boiling. She didn't say much as she poured the steaming liquid over the herbs already waiting in the four mugs on the table. She handed us each one before she had us sit around the table. The tea smelled like flowers and tasted sweeter than I would've expected from something so green, but when I sipped it, I finally felt the ghostly memory of those icy fingers around my throat melting away.

Once we were all settled, Mama Legba took a breath as though to center herself before she spoke. Her usually smiling face was serious, and I knew that whatever was going to come out of her mouth wasn't going to be good.

"If I'd been having any doubts about Thisbe being back, I don't have any no more," she told us bluntly. "Even the police could tell plain as day that poor soul was killed the same way as that girl back in June."

"Emaline," I corrected, my voice breaking as I said the name. It hurt even to think about her, but I needed to remind everyone that girl back in June had a name. "Her name was Emaline."

Everyone at the table went still. I didn't look up to meet any of their eyes, but from the way they shifted in their seats, I could sense them having a silent conversation about me while I was sitting right there.

Finally Mama Legba reached out and rested her soft hand over mine. "You weren't to blame for what Thisbe did to her, Chloe-girl," Mama Legba said. "You know that, right? The death of that poor girl ain't on your head."

She could say what she wanted, but that didn't change the truth. "I let her come with us, didn't I? Emaline might never have even been at the St. John's Eve ritual if not for me. She would have been safe, maybe even still alive."

"Even so," Mama Legba said. "You had no way of knowing what would be. You came out to the Bayou to celebrate a new seasonto ask the spirits for blessings, not to harm. You didn't have no way of stopping what happened to her."

I pulled my hand away from Mama Legba's. Whatever she might say, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was wrong. Everything had changed that nightthat was the night my momma discovered I'd been learning from Mama Legba behind her back. It was the point when everything seemed to start spinning out of control for me.

Or maybe I should say it was the point when Thisbe starting taking control, because after that night I started having hours and days disappear.

"Now when that girl was killedEmaline," Mama Legba corrected herself, "everyone knew well enough that her throat had been slit. Couldn't keep something like that out of the news when there were so many people around that night. But the police didn't officially release none of the other information."

"You mean about the other cuts on her body," Lucy said.

Mama Legba nodded. "'Course there been rumors about the way her killer carved symbols into her arms and legs, but the police were careful to keep the specifics quiet. They showed me the pictures, though," she said with a little shudder. "Over the years there've been plenty of wannabes 'round these parts, but something about those markings didn't look like the work of no amateur."

Mama Legba looked around the table, meeting each of our eyes. "Just like Emaline, the pictures they showed me yesterday had a body with his throat slit clear across. The poor soul was wearing the exact same sort of markings on his arms and legs that Emaline had been wearing on hers. Ain't no doubt in my mind that the same person killed him."

"You think it's another ritual killing," Piers confirmed.

"Sure enough," Mama Legba said. "But more than thatthe ground weren't near as soaked as you'd expect from wounds like that. Whoever killed the boy did it careful-like. They wanted his blood," she said.

"Which means that Thisbe's making more of the thread again." Lucy's voice was strangely hollow when she spoke. "That's what happened in my dreamsa girl turned up dead and a little while after that, Thisbe bound up Alex with the string she'd made from the girl's blood. She's going to find someone to replace Alex, isn't she?"

"That'd be my guess," Mama Legba murmured, staring solemnly into her cup of tea. "But I don't think she'd be able to do nothing right away. It'll take her some time to make the thread, and more time to find an old enough and powerful enough soul to do her any good." She glanced up at Lucy.

"You mean a soul like me?" Lucy said softly as she raised her chin.

Mama Legba's mouth went tight. "We don't know for sure that she knows what you is, Lucy-girl."

"Thisbe knows I could see Alex. I'm sure by now she has some suspicions about how I figured out who he was and where she was keeping him," Lucy said. "And if it's anyone's fault that she's desperate, it's mine. It would make sense for her to come after me." Lucy's voice was steady enough, but I didn't miss how her hands shook as she held her quickly cooling mug.

"That's true enough. We'd be mighty foolish not to expect her to try something." Mama Legba frowned. "But there's no telling about the where or the when."

"We can't just wait for her to kill someone else," Piers said, his voice tinged with frustration.

But what if we didn't have to sit around and wait?

I still wasn't sure what to make of the visions I'd had, and I certainly wasn't sure how they'd react to hearing that I was possibly seeing past events through Thisbe's eyes, but I

couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, dangerous as those visions might be, they could help us.

"What if there was a way to figure out what her next step will be?" I asked carefully.

Mama Legba quirked a brow in my direction. "How you propose we go about doing that?" she asked.

"Maybe something she's done in the past might give some clue?" I asked, measuring their reactions and response to my words.

Mama Legba made a surprised murmur. "That might work," she said, but before I could tell them anything more, Mama Legba looked at Lucy. "How do you feel about taking a little nap and seeing what you can see?"

Lucy looked startled for less than a second. Then, understanding dawning, she said, "You want me to dreamwalk?"

"Last time, you was able to break from your past actions and follow that boy. Seems like you might could follow Thisbe just as well. Maybe there's something we been missing from way back."

"But" I started, confused at the turn the conversation had taken. That wasn't what I'd meant at all.

"Don't worry yourself about it, Chloe-girl," Mama Legba told me, misunderstanding the reason for my protest. "Lucy be safe enough trying this. Ain't nothing can hurt a ghost in a dream."

I wanted to correct her, but Piers was watching me with a pinched expression on his face. Like he was waiting for me to prove him right about me needing a keeper. So I didn't say anything else as Mama Legba got everything ready.

I hadn't exactly been myself when Lucy dreamwalked before, but from what I understood, it was an easy enough process. Lucy was an old soul, which apparently made her powerful, and she was able to access her past lives through her dreams about them. A few weeks before, though, she'd discovered that she could break free in the dreams and walk separate from her memories, making the dreams serve as a kind of portal to the past.

She couldn't change anything, because she wasn't anything more than a memory in the dream, but she could see things and learn things. It was how she'd figured out what Thisbe had done to Alex back in the 1840s, and it was how they'd discovered how to free him and find Thisbe.

Mama Legba lit a stick of sage and juniper and smudged the smoldering herbs around the room, clearing out any negative energy. Speaking in a soft, low voice she asked the spirits for protection and guidance before she let Lucy lay back on the couch. I settled back in one of the comfortable arm chairs, curling myself around a pillow, and watched as Mama Legba placed the smoldering herbs on the table and lit three white candles at Lucy's head and three more at her feet.

Little by little, Lucy slowed her breath and softened her features. After a few minutes, she drifted off into a deep sleep. Mama Legba and Piers watched her carefully for any sign of a problem, but it looked to me like she was resting peaceful. Occasionally, her forehead would wrinkle, like she was struggling with some sort of puzzle, but mostly she laid there, quiet and still as a sleeping princess.

From the way Piers and Mama Legba were all focus and concentration, I knew something important was happening, but it wasn't like we could see into her mind and know what it was.

Since I'd had such a hard time sleeping the night before, I was tired enough that I almost started drifting off myself. Maybe that's why I didn't notice the way my neck was growing warmer and softer at first, like firm fingers were rubbing gently down my nape. Little by little, I relaxed into the cushions of the chair, almost humming at how soft and boneless I was starting to feel.

They really think that's gonna work? The voice came soft and low. Familiar.

I blinked my eyes open. Mama Legba and Piers were still watching Lucy.

"What?" I started to ask, but when I opened my mouth, I found I couldn't speak. My words came out as a gasping breath as the soft, finger-like warmth at the back of my neck changed. I struggled to draw a breath as something took hold of my throat.

The noise I made must have been loud enough to catch their attention, because both Mama Legba and Piers looked over at me, confusion on their faces.

"What is it, baby?" Piers whispered.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. My vision started to go dark around the edges as I tried to pull air into my lungs. As I struggled, I felt a breeze course through the room, swirling around and turning my skin to ice.

"Chloe?" Piers was there suddenly, kneeling beside me. I could see his mouth move, but I couldn't hear the sound that came out.

Soon, baby girl. Soon. The echoing voice hummed along the inside of my skull. Reminding me, as the icy breeze lashed at my skin.

But then Mama Legba was there, her soft hand warm on my arm, grasping my wrist like she meant to hold me there to the earth. The wind died and the icy fingers released their hold on my throat.

"You okay?" Mama Legba started to ask, but across the room, Lucy's unconscious form jerked.

I took a gasping breath, trying to tell them. "Lucy," I rasped through my still-tender throat, but the sound didn't come out anything like her name.

But Mama Legba understood at once. She turned and, seeing that Lucy had gone white as death, went to her side. "Come on, Lucy-girl," she said, shaking her to wake her. "Come on," she said over and over, but Lucy was deep, deep in sleep.

Little by little, my lungs started working again.

Piers had his arms around me, but I could barely feel the warmth of him and the only thing I could hear was the sound of my own breathing. I tried to push away from him, but before I could untangle myself, the icy wind was back.

"What is that?" Piers asked, searching anxiously for some indication of where the breeze was coming from.

One of the candles at Lucy's feet sputtered, and we both turned to look at it just in time to see it go out.

Mama Legba went still for a moment, and Piers tightened his grip on me.