We made our way through the dark tunnels in solemn silence until Bram finally asked the question I’d been dreading.

  “Where is Irish?”

  I thought back to her swinging that stake like a club, shooting bullets made of regular iron. Helpless in the face of immortal beings. I let about ten steps pass without a response. Then, I had no choice. “Dead.”

  Bram dragged his good leg to a halt, forcing Harker to pause their march. He looked at me with a lethally severe expression. “How?”

  “Trying to protect you, for whatever her reasons. Wasn’t prepared for what that meant here.”

  We stood in solemn silence, each of us afraid to meet eyes with one another.

  Bram slowly nodded, sucking in a lung. “Yes, well, none of us were prepared for what befell us in the swamp. She chose this job, and I brought her here. I will carry that guilt for my remaining days. What happened—”

  “While I appreciate the sensitivity of this subject,” Marie interjected. “We must keep moving.”

  I glared at Bram, and he gazed back, eyes glistening. I nodded. He had to play strong to keep hope in his dwindling party, but he cared. I saw it. The news pulled at his heartstrings, even if it might never convince him to abandon his mad quest for truth.

  Harker, speaking not a word of protest—which was entirely against his nature—followed Laveau as we twisted and wound our way through the tunnels.

  Crescent City was home to many secrets. I couldn’t guess where this one led. I reloaded my pistols as we walked. My Winchester was gone, lost to Roo back in the arena. Felt such a trite thing to worry about when we’d just lost one of our own. Still, I’d have felt much better knowing I had a rifle.

  After a short time, we found ourselves at an impassable stone wall.

  “Great,” Harker moaned. That was more like it. “The wrong way.”

  “There are no wrong ways, my friend. Only detours,” Bram replied.

  Laveau brushed cobwebs off the stone, running her hand along the side until something clicked. Pressing her shoulder against the rock, she started to push. Dust fell, but it barely budged. I squeezed past the group to help. Rosa averted her gaze as I went by, which hurt me more than silver ever could. More dust kicked off as I pushed, making the others cough. The heavy stone swung aside with a groan, and we found ourselves in a torch-lit crypt—a warren of stone columns and low vaulted ceilings.

  “This is safer?” Harker asked.

  “As safe as it gets,” Laveau said.

  Feet shuffled from somewhere to the side. I whipped around, Peacemaker trained on a man’s heart.

  “Easy, now,” he said, his accent thick and Dutch. “I am a friend.” He stepped into the torchlight, wearing the robes and regalia of a high-ranking Roman Catholic priest.

  “Archbishop,” Laveau intoned. She rushed ahead, and they gave each other a light embrace. “Forgive us, this late hour.”

  He was a man of middle-age and medium build, but a bit thick around the gut. Seemed like the kind of guy who ate well and often. A widow’s peak sat atop his head, revealing liver spots. Thick, angular eyebrows made him look dour, though he had kind eyes.

  “Never. Praise God, you’re alive. The city is abuzz with news of monster sightings and mayhem near your home.” He looked up at the rest of us. I’m pretty sure my mouth was agape. A holy man and the Voodoo Queen, embracing?

  “Forgive me,” he said, bowing his head. “I am Archbishop Francis August Janssens.”

  “You are colloquial with an Archbishop?” Harker took the words right out of my mouth.

  “Strange friendships are forged in strange places,” Laveau said.

  “She is modest,” Archbishop Janssens said. “Just as the Apostle Paul suffered from a thorn in his flesh, so too did I. However, the Lord saw fit to send me aid in a way Paul never received. The Madame helped me. A healer. Protector of children. Champion of the Church. If Marie Laveau’s are the tools of the Devil, then I am reprobate. Yet, here I remain.”

  “You simply do not know me well enough,” Laveau told him.

  They exchanged coy smiles. There was something there. Something forbidden that, in this life, neither acted on. I recognized it because I’d been getting used to the feeling.

  “We can use a place to hide, Frank,” Laveau said.

  “Of course. Of course.” He stepped aside, flourishing his hand toward the chamber. “Consider this sanctuary for as long as you need. I will have food and clean clothes brought down from the rectory.”

  “You are a saint.”

  “Not yet.” He winked. More playful banter that left me feeling empty. As they chattered a bit more, Harker brought Bram to some steps and sat him down. Rosa wandered aimlessly in the other direction. Lost.

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  “Leave her be, lad,” Bram said to me. I stood silently, staring. “What happened up there anyway? Soon as the ruckus began, we were sent to hide. Not my choice, but a bum leg is a bum leg. I’d have only gotten in the way.”

  “What happened?” Harker bristled. “I’ll tell you what happened. Him, her, they all got us caught up in some crazy nonsense! We shouldn’t have ever picked her up.”

  He was talking about Rosa, and I’d have slugged him in the gut if I didn’t agree with him.

  “Settle down, Harker,” Bram said.

  “Settle down? I steadied my tongue when we were fleeing, when news of Irish’s death meant so little because ‘she was prepared.’ But I have never done more than draw pictures of what I truly believed to be the ramblings of a madman hopeful to write the next great fiction!”

  Bram cast his gaze down. Harker remained relentless. “You think I don’t have ears? Whatever attacked Laveau’s, it wasn’t human. That wasn’t normal.”

  “We aren’t after the normal,” Bram said. “I am sorry you believed me to be full of chicaneries, but I’ve been nothing but honest with any of you.”

  “Right, yeah. The supernatural. I think it’s time we went home, Bram. We’ve seen enough here. Irish is dead. Who’s next?”

  “What’s done is done,” I cut in. I didn’t mean to be so cold about it, but my focus was elsewhere. Not to mention, the itch in my chest from Shar demanding a conversation was growing overwhelming. She was last on my list to talk to.

  “But Harker is right,” I continued. “Bram, you’ve gotta see you two are in over your head here. When you seek dark things that shouldn’t exist, you can’t expect to survive.”

  “So, it wasn’t a man who killed her?” Bram couldn’t mask the glimmer of excitement at the notion.

  “A woman.”

  “Just a woman?”

  I didn’t answer.

  He took me by the shoulders and shook. “Her death can’t be in vain. If she discovered something here, please, you must tell us.”

  I pushed him away. “When you can move well enough, take a ship back east. Leave.”

  “He’s right,” Harker said.

  Bram’s lips trembled as he shook his head. “Irish will be missed, but our work is not over.”

  “Then you’ll die with her!” I barked. Silence ensued, my words echoing around the vaulted ceiling, enveloping us.

  “That’s enough, James,” Laveau said. She strolled toward us, stroking Damballah.

  “They shouldn’t be here,” I said.

  “Who among us is where we should be?”

  That was a loaded question, if ever there was one. Though most didn’t know their destinations, I did. Always did. Just never knew for sure why, and I can say with all assurance it wasn’t to watch a brave woman die at the hands of some god-forsaken Nephilim.

  “Must you help everyone, Laveau? Them. Him. And who knows what you’ve been filling Rosa’s head with.” I’ve always had tremendous respect for Laveau, but I’d had enough. I rose to my full height before her. She didn’t flinch.

  “Yet my home is in shambles because of you,” she said calmly. “And I would not turn you away even now had I known the future. Because there is hope for you still, as is there for all. All there is left to do is pray.”

  “Praying is for people who leave things to chance,” I said through my teeth.

  “Praying is for those who understand they are not the one in control,” Marie said.

  My teeth ground as I growled low, unsure what to say. The itch in my chest grew unbearable. Shar had to wait, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out.

  “That’s it,” I said to myself.

  The three of them answered, “What?” but I turned around and stormed down the crypt. Irish probably would’ve wanted to die just like she had—a warrior’s death against a worthy inhuman foe—but nearly everyone else would now join her by being sucked into my world. Enough was enough.

  I found Rosa standing near a sarcophagus and yelled, “Rosa!”

  She yelped and hopped back, snapped from whatever reflections she was lost in. “Jesus Christ, James. What is wrong with you?”

  “Everything you saw in Dead Acre was real,” I said. “A Nephilim known as a Necromancer killed your husband and summoned the dead to try and kill us. In Revelation Springs, a demon possessed the native man who caused all that chaos and unleashed Ace upon the town.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What?”

  “You asked what I am. I’m a Hand of God. A Black Badge. It’s my duty to hunt down perversions of life such as those and destroy them in the name of Heaven. You’re not crazy. I can’t bleed ’cause I ain’t human. Not anymore. I died that day, long ago, when I saved you and your mama from Ace. Heaven brought me back.”

  She swallowed, still unable to make eye contact. “From the dead?”

  I nodded. I knew what she was thinking. If I’d been brought back, maybe her Willy could be too. I needed her to know that wasn’t the case.

  “There’s more to this world than most people think,” I said. “And I may be punished or scorned for telling you the truth, but you’ve seen enough to know it. And you deserve to know why I didn’t want you trifling with things unknown. The dead can speak. Sometimes, sure, they return. But they ain’t never the same. And if you keep pushing, I don’t know…” I paused. She looked up at me, right into my eyes. “You might cross a line you can’t turn back from. And it might be you I’m asked to hunt.”

  I winced and leaned on the sarcophagus to get my balance. Rosa caught me. The itch in my chest became a deep, searing burn. I’d trade silver for it.

  “James, I…” Rosa’s words trailed off. It was no wonder she was speechless. Not every day you learn the swarthy reality of our world.

  “You don’t need to say anything,” I said. “I just wanted you to finally know the truth. I was never trying to control you or keep you from anything good. Only to protect you. But you don’t need me for that. Facing down werewolves and Scuttlers—you’re a finer outlaw than I ever was.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Do what you have to. Keep on living, Rosa,” I said. “All I wanted was to keep the dead from dragging you down. But what hubris for a dead man himself to say it.”

  I wiped the tear off her cheek with my thumb and held her gaze overly long. Then I reached into my satchel, scooped a handful of silver bullets, and slapped them down on top of the sarcophagus, letting them roll and clatter to the floor.

  “Silver kills things like Roo better than iron,” I said. “Keep them loaded. Just in case. I have a job to finish.”

  I turned to head around the corner and left her to herself. The truth would set her free of any need for me. She couldn’t have known, but I did. The moment I got out of here, I wouldn’t see her again.

  “James.” She stopped me in my tracks. “The day before he died, I drank too much and said awful things. I told Willy he was boring me, that he wouldn’t ever be more than a worthless cobbler. That was the last thing I ever said to him.”

  I sighed and glanced back over my shoulder. Her eyes were wet, glinting as torchlight danced in their reflection.

  “Liquor has a foul mouth,” I said. “He knows you didn’t mean it.”

  She sniveled. “How can you know?”

  “You said those vows, richer poorer, health sickness, all that? You don’t go through all that for someone who’s worthless.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. A frail, pathetic thing, but there, nonetheless. I bobbed my head and spent all the willpower I had left to continue along. Being around her was trouble for me and for anybody else unlucky enough to be with us.

  Bram and Harker sat eating stew I guess the bishop had sent down, listening to Laveau as she spoke last rights for Irish. Not in the proper Catholic way, but in her way. Considering her friends, maybe it was two sides of the same coin.

  I waved a silent goodbye as I left the crypt to fulfill my duty as a Black Badge.