The streets allowed a ghostly grey limousine to invade their labyrinth. The car swung wide around tight corners, slowing every time a pack of vibrant revelers crossed its path. Shiny tires crunched to a stop in a parking lot on the neighborhood’s edge.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Sorcha rapped on the smoked glass until it disappeared. “I said I missed the French Quarter, but actually being here makes me…”
“For years, not a soul on earth could pry you out of this district.” The blond man squinted at a handwritten note. “Ivori and Charmaine are waiting in the lobby.”
“Feels lonely.” Sorcha gazed down the tapered alley at snapshots of a stray parade. “Or empty? Might just be me.”
“It’s positively hollow.” He tossed the crinkled paper to the only other person in the car. “I’ve deciphered that scribble correctly, Lock?”
“Indeed you have, sir.” Lock kicked the car door open and grabbed for Sorcha’s hand. “Leave that dreadful device here.”
“It’s brand new.” Sorcha pulled her phone away from Lock, just to have it plucked away again. “Seriously, Draven?”
Draven flung Sorcha’s phone to the farthest corner of the car. “Doesn’t the incessant, social connection exhaust you?”
“Nothing feels like the old days, except the weather.” Sorcha peeled off her sweater and glared into the dark limousine before tossing the garment. “But, what if?”
“Anyone you’re looking for…” Lock pulled her away. “Has no need for that.”
The trio crossed the gravel lot, rounded a saltwater pool and stopped in the middle of a checkerboard floor. They found two girls drumming their fingers on a mahogany desk. Disguised in the realm of the concierge, a hidden door admitted them to tunnels below the building.
“It’s a sauna down here.” Sorcha swept the hair off her neck and twisted it into a loose knot.
“When you mentioned an Equinox reunion, Ivori, I assumed you meant something spectacular.” Draven touched the muddy wall and cringed. “Or at least, uplifting.”
“Nights of grand balls and original dresses are history.” Ivori walked into the pitch black. “Y’all took your sweet time getting here.”
“We were in opposite corners of the earth.” Lock’s frown was unveiled when Charmaine struck a match and lit her torch. “I was hoping for an enchanted courtyard.”
“Me.” Sorcha raised her hand. “The cathedral bell tower.”
“This will be better.” Ivori stopped so short, everyone crashed into her back. “None of your supernatural eyes saw the big door?”
Charmaine pulled chalk from her pocket and began to write. She waited for each letter to disappear before she scripted the next. When the jumble was finished, a steel barrier slid open. Ivori strutted past and snapped her fingers.
“Aren’t you coming with?” Sorcha tugged on Charmaine’s sleeve.
“I’m playing gatekeeper tonight.” Charmaine handed her the torch. “I need to be here when the spell is complete.”
“Just lovely.” Draven growled when Ivori disappeared into the maze of shadows.
“Let’s humor her.” Lock tucked dark hair behind his ear and urged them forward.
“Bar noise, coffee-shop racket.” Draven pointed to the corridor’s grimy ceiling. “Is that traffic?”
“We’re under Decatur Street,” Ivori said, “Clueless fool.”
“Your creepy friend has grown nastier over the years.”
“Draven, calling her my friend is a bit—” Sorcha howled and dropped to her knees.
“That would be the railroad tracks.” Ivori scampered back and yanked Sorcha to her feet. “Suck it up.”
Sorcha took a deep breath and slammed across the barrier. She turned back to see Lock and Draven stroll past the same spot, unaffected. “What the hell?”
“That steel is the boundary of your city, girl. Not theirs.” Ivori dragged her forward. “Now that we’re on the fringe, maybe we can send some messages.”
“Infernal drumming.” Sorcha clamped her hands over her ears.
“That, even I can hear.” Draven clenched his jaw. “Can we get to the bloody point before we all go deaf?”
“It’s the river,” Ivori said, “Just swallow to equalize the pressure—like in your private jet.”
The tunnel flared into chamber with solid walls and a tile floor. Crude benches surrounded a round fire pit.
“This is unexpected.” Draven ran his fingers over glittering gems set at regular intervals in cut stone.
“Sit down, it’s nearly midnight. The currents are whispering.” Ivori loomed over the fire pit and emptied her deep pockets. She arranged an array of sachets, vials and boxes onto a low altar. “Sorcha, center bench.”
Draven whispered in Sorcha’s ear. “Creepy enough?”
Sorcha choked back a giggle and Lock smacked her shoulder.
Ivori glared at them until the room was dead still. She tipped her head side to side in the heavy air and motioned to Sorcha’s hair. “Take it down, glamour girl. That’s where all your power hides.”
To be continued…
Where The Power Hides
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