Harlow to you this afternoon.”
Giselle stilled, shocked by how quickly Ogun had done what she’d asked. “That’s… very good.”
“Where do you want her delivered?”
She didn’t want to do anything that would connect him with Zara’s house. “My father’s old place in the Garden District. You know it?”
“Yes. Aren’t you living there?”
“Not yet, I’m remodeling it. I’ll open the garage for you when you get there. We can make the exchange in there. Text me when you’re on your way.” She hung up and exited the bathroom, plucking her robe off its hook on the way out and slipping into it. Tucking her LMD into the pocket, she headed downstairs to make coffee.
She’d been meaning to get over to the Garden District house anyway to check on the progress of the work. Hard to imagine leaving her French Quarter townhouse behind, but as high priestess, it was only fitting she take over her late father’s mansion. She’d need the room for council meetings, coven gatherings, cocktail parties. Things her beloved townhouse just didn’t have the space for, although she wouldn’t be giving it up entirely. It would still be her retreat.
No, taking over her father’s house—her house, she had to stop thinking about it that way—was a foregone conclusion. Once the work was done and her things moved in, she’d be living there. She’d be able to move forward with her plan of computerizing the coven’s records, something she’d begged Evander to do for years, but he’d insisted on keeping records the old-fashioned way.
She scooped coffee into the French press, shaking her head. The thought of going through all those paper records was daunting, but it would have to be done. Just like she’d have to sort through all of her father’s things and decide what to do with the warehouse of antiques that filled his house. She poured hot water in, put the lid on and set the timer. The antiques would bring excellent money. But they still had to be inventoried, the contents emptied and sorted through. Not that she expected to uncover anything of any real interest.
Nothing like the candle she’d found at Zara’s in their mother’s old bedroom, a room Zara had left untouched since she’d moved into the house. Giselle had stumbled upon the room while Ian had been tattooing Zara and in a quest to find something, anything that their mother might have left behind specifically for Giselle, she’d cast a seeking spell.
In response, a candle on top of her mother’s desk had flickered to life. Upon inspection, Giselle had discovered that the sides of the wide ivory candle were cut with design work and adorned in places with crystals. Only her close family, which at this point was only Zara—and now Ian—knew without a doubt that crystals were her source of power. She couldn’t help but think that candle had been left for her by her mother as some kind of message.
What that message was, she wasn’t sure. The designs cut into the candle’s sides had seemed like sigils, but she’d gotten no further than that. Chaos magic required a sigil to focus it; otherwise the power of the spell would simply disperse and the intended object would remain largely unaffected. If the marks on the candle were sigils, had her mother put them there as an example of what to use to work that kind of magic? If so, the candle would be of no help. The chaos spell their mother had tried to cast had ended up killing her.
Trying to cast the exact same spell could lead to the exact same results. The timer dinged. She pushed the plunger down on the press. The coffee’s tantalizing aroma would probably wake Ian, which was good. Giselle had things to do. Like taking the candle to Zara and discussing what it might mean. Zara was proceeding like she had everything she needed, but Giselle couldn’t help but think her push to slow things down was a stall tactic.
Maybe because Zara didn’t have the sigil they needed. Maybe their mother hadn’t left it to her in any of her notes. Because she might not have thought Zara capable of chaos magic. Oh, she had the talent, but until a few weeks ago, even Giselle would never have guessed her sister had the backbone necessary for that kind of dark spell.
Or maybe her mother had left the candle for Giselle so that her two girls would have to work together.
Either way, it was very possible the