Page 57 of Curse in the Quarter
Bastien felt understanding dawn. Delphine’s wandering through the Quarter, her inexplicable routes, her ability to find herself in significant places—none of it random.
“She’s following a network.”
“Charlotte was too smart to trust everything to one magical anchor. If she was serious about guiding a soul back to her, she'd create multiple connection points.” Maman rose and moved to her shelves, selecting a small vial filled with silver dust. “Safety through redundancy.”
Maman selected a vial of silver dust from her shelves. “Take this. Sprinkle it over your sketch, then any other sigils you find. If they’re connected, you’ll see the network light up.”
Bastien pocketed the vial. “What was Charlotte trying to accomplish?”
“Cheating death. Not for herself—for the chance to love again. She believed the right framework could guide the right soul back to the right circumstances.” Maman’s expression grew distant. “Give her another chance at happiness that was taken.”
“And Delphine?”
“Is proof that sometimes impossible just means 'hasn’t happened yet.'”
The secret chamber beneath the Lacroix estate in 1762, where Charlotte led Bastien through a passage hidden behind the library's false wall. Stone steps carved directly from earth descended into darkness lit only by her candle's flame. The air smelled of age and something else—anticipation made manifest.
“I wanted you to see this before I show you what I'vediscovered,” she said, candlelight flickering across features that seemed carved from shadow and starlight.
The chamber was small, circular, lined with the same fitted stones he'd found today. But this version was new, the granite still gleaming from recent installation. Charlotte had commissioned masons to build this space according to her precise specifications, though she'd told them it was for wine storage.
“The mirror rune,” she said, pointing to a symbol freshly carved into the center stone. Silver wire lay nearby, ready to be melted and poured into the grooves. “It will serve as the foundation for everything else.”
Bastien knelt beside the etching, recognizing the complex geometry even in its incomplete state. “Charlotte, this is beyond theoretical magic. You're attempting to restructure the fundamental laws that govern soul transition.”
“I'm creating a way for love to survive death.” Her voice carried absolute conviction. “This chamber will be the heart of a network. When I'm gone, when I'm reborn without memory of what we shared, this sigil will call to me. It will draw me back to places where recognition can take root.”
“What if it works too well? If you become trapped between lives, unable to move forward or back?”
Charlotte smiled with the fearless confidence of someone who believed love could overcome any obstacle. “Then we'll face that together, across however many lifetimes it takes. This mirror rune will show me pieces of my next life, glimpses of where I'll be and who I'll become. When I see those glimpses clearly enough, I'll know where to place the other anchor points.”
She gestured to sketches covering the chamber walls—plans for a network that would span the Quarter. “Eachlocation will feel familiar when it shouldn't. Each will pull my reincarnated soul toward recognition.”
The absolute certainty in her voice, the love that would reshape reality according to its own desperate logic—determination that would either preserve them across eternity or destroy them both in the attempt.
Bastien positioned himself on a wrought iron balcony overlooking Royal Street, watching Delphine's apartment through the spectral filters of his surveillance equipment. He'd learned her patterns over the weeks—the way she emerged around eight-thirty for her wandering walks, moving through the Quarter with no apparent destination.
This was no different. She appeared on the sidewalk below, pausing at darkened antique shop windows with the same inexplicable attraction he'd observed before. Through his enhanced vision, he could see her reach toward certain objects—mirror frames, jewelry boxes, paintings—as if drawn by recognition she couldn't name.
When she turned into the narrow alley between Dauphine and Bourbon, Bastien's surveillance equipment registered an immediate spike in magical activity.
He watched her freeze mid-step, her body language shifting from casual wandering to something that looked like shock. Her movements became different—purposeful in a way that suggested muscle memory rather than conscious decision. She avoided the broken pavement, her hand finding the exact spot on the brick wall where mortar had crumbled away.
Through his spectral filters, Bastien could see the magical resonance building around her like heat shimmer. The sigil beneath the building was responding to her presence, calling to whatever part of her soul still remembered Charlotte's preparations.
In the small courtyard, Delphine approached the vine-covered wall with movements that looked rehearsed despite her obvious confusion. She found the door outline behind the jasmine—the same door Bastien had used to access the hidden chamber.
The brass handle turned under her touch, and through his equipment, he watched her magical signature flare bright enough to overload his filters. But instead of entering, she stepped back as if the recognition had startled her into rationality.
She stood there for several minutes, torn between impulse and logic, before backing away from the door entirely. Even from his vantage point, Bastien could see the conflict in her posture—the way she kept glancing back as she retreated, as if fighting against every instinct that told her to cross that threshold.
The walk back to her apartment took longer than usual, her path meandering as if she couldn't quite remember the way home. The magical signature around her gradually faded, but it never disappeared entirely.
Something was calling her back to places she’d never been, in a life she’d never lived.
After his conversation with Maman, Bastien discovered something that changed everything about his investigation.
He’d been tracking Delphine with methodical precision, mapping locations and timing with the attention to detail that made him effective at detective work. The pattern had seemed clear—echoes appearing in response to Delphine’s presence. But as data accumulated, a more complex picture emerged.
