Page 76 of Curse in the Quarter
Valentin Rousseau, the vampire representative, studied the marked locations with predatory interest. “These positions require someone who can work with dimensional barriers. Not all of us possess such abilities.”
“I do,” Charlotte said simply. “My family's magic specializes in boundary work. I can seal the tears, but I'll need cover while I work the binding rituals.”
The fae delegate—an ancestor of Evangeline's, if Bastien's research was accurate—laughed with the same crystalline notes. “Mortals wielding power they barely understand. How entertaining.”
“I'm not mortal in the way you mean,” Charlotte had replied, and the certainty in her voice had made Bastien's chest ache with recognition.
She had stood there in candlelight and silk, planning warfare with beings who had existed for centuries, proving herself invaluable through knowledge that seemed to come from sources deeper than study. The parallel to Delphine's current situation was so exact it felt like prophecy repeating itself.
Charlotte's magical contributions to that battle had been devastating and precise. She had sealed dimensional tears with binding work that held for decades. Her ritual preparations had involved inscribing protective circles that could withstand direct assault from entities that existed outside normal reality.
But the cost of that power had been written in the exhaustion that followed, the way she had collapsed after thefinal binding was complete. Magic that potent extracted a price that even vampires couldn't heal.
The memory faded, leaving Bastien back in the present with cold certainty settling in his chest. History was repeating itself with surgical precision. Delphine was walking the same path Charlotte had taken, proving herself to vampires and fae through abilities that should have been impossible for someone with no conscious memory of their magical heritage.
“Bastien?” Delphine's voice pulled him back to the planning session. “You haven't said much about positioning. Where do you think you'll be most effective?”
The question hung in the air like a challenge. He looked around the table at faces that reflected centuries of conflict, then at Delphine, who was studying him with growing concern.
“I'll be wherever you are,” he said finally. “Someone needs to watch your back while you're providing tactical support.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. That's not the point.”
Their gazes held across the table, and for a moment everyone else in the room seemed to fade into background noise. Something flickered behind Delphine's eyes—not quite recognition, but awareness of depths she couldn't name.
Then the moment passed, and she was back to studying maps and defensive configurations.
“The ritual preparations will require specific materials,” Father Miguel said, consulting his Latin notes. “Blessed salt, silver blessed under three different moons, vervain harvested during?—”
“I know where to get everything,” Delphineinterrupted, then looked startled by her own certainty. “I mean, my research has covered historical procurement methods for ritual components. There are suppliers who maintain the old traditions.”
Maman Brigitte's eyebrows rose. “Child, you just listed sources that most practitioners take decades to discover.”
“Lucky guess?” Delphine's smile was uncertain, but Bastien caught the flash of something else in her expression. Knowledge trying to surface through layers of forgetting.
The alliance meeting continued for another hour, covering tactical details and contingency plans with military thoroughness. Each faction would handle specific aspects of the assault, using their unique abilities to maximum advantage. The coordination was impressive, professional, and completely dependent on strategic intelligence that Delphine provided with unnatural accuracy.
When the meeting finally adjourned, representatives filed out with the quiet confidence of people who had done this before. Only Maman Brigitte lingered, her dark eyes studying Delphine with speculation that made Bastien's protective instincts flare.
“Walk with me, child,” she said to Delphine. “There are things we should discuss.”
Delphine gathered her research materials, moving with efficiency that spoke to organizational habits developed over lifetimes. “What kind of things?”
“The kind that might save your life when reality starts bending around you.”
They left together, Maman's voice drifting back as they descended the stairs toward the street. Bastien remained in the empty conference room, staring at the maps and photographs that showed exactly how to destroy the Maestro's defenses.
His phone buzzed with a text from Marcus:
The mortal impresses even old blood. Where did you find her?
Another message followed immediately from Evangeline:
She tastes of older magic than her years should allow. Curious.
Father Miguel's text was more direct:
