Page 52 of Bewitched By the Djinn
Everything is connected to me through delicate lines humming with energy: the plant at my feet, the wall at my back, even the lamp in the corner. Thicker strands branch in targeted directions, two leading upstairs—Mimi and Kevin are up there. Another flows from me into the kitchen, where Jackie is.
There’s another one. The largest one. Thicker. Brighter.
It stretches from me to Bennet.
It’s exactly like Edward said, a glowing, braided strand, pulsing like it’s alive. Its golden light twines with threads that are darker, deeper. My breath catches as it stretches, and I reach for it.
The moment I do, emotion crashes into me like a wave.
This is more than simple magic.
His strength, warmth, and affection flow into me, drawn by a pull so strong it’s like gravity, ancient and unshakable.
Like belonging.
It slams into me, filling every cell.
From the kitchen, Bennet’s voice stumbles. “—and then you—ah—” He clears his throat sharply.
I jerk back, heart hammering.
Nope. That way lies danger.
Gulping down air, I jerk my thoughts and emotions together, reinforcing the barrier around my mind. I pick up the plant at my feet and stride past the kitchen without looking inside. If I catch even a glimpse of his face I might actually combust. Again.
I clear my throat, forcing my voice to sound casual as I pass the open doorway. “We’re leaving for the cemetery in an hour. Gotta get there before sunset,” I call out.
Then I pound up the stairs, running away from... whatever that was.
A black iron fence rises above us, its bars spiked like sentries standing guard over the dead. At the top of the arched entrance, white block letters spell outLAFAYETTE CEMETERY No. 1.
Beyond the gate, rows of stone mausoleums stretch into the distance, their surfaces streaked with age and weather. Some are grand, adorned with intricate carvings and wrought-iron gates,while others are simpler, their names and dates fading into the gray and white stone.
Twilight approaches, darkening the sky overhead.
I push open the heavy iron gate, and it groans in protest, echoing through the stillness.
The oak trees inside are draped in Spanish moss, their gnarled limbs twisting like old fingers reaching for something unseen. Despite the lack of wind, the moss sways slightly, shifting like ghostly curtains.
Bennet follows, his gaze sweeping over the rows of tombs. “What are these structures?”
I glance at him. “Crypts and mausoleums. We have to keep bodies aboveground because of the water table. New Orleans is basically built on a swamp. Dig too deep and you hit water, so if we buried people underground, well.” I make a grossed-out face. “Things would get nasty.”
His lips press into a thin line. “They’d resurface.”
“Yep. Not exactly the kind of thing you want after a heavy rain.” I shift the pack on my back. I brought a bunch of supplies, snacks, water, extra socks. Better to be prepared for anything.
He nods slowly, looking back at the tombs. “They are quite large.”
“Entire families are buried together most of the time. They use the same tomb for generations. When someone dies, they put the body inside, and after a year and a day, they open it back up, push the remains to the back, and make space for the next person.”
He winces. “Efficient.”
“Yeah, well, space is limited. Gotta make do.” There are a couple of mourners leaving flowers in front of a tomb about two hundred yards down the main walkway. I tilt my head toward the path on our right. “Let’s go this way.” Somewhere away from the main path and out of sight of normies.
Bennet looks around again, his gaze thoughtful. “We don’t have cemeteries in Aetheria.”
I frown. “What do you do with your dead?”
