Fallen Reign (Se7en Sinners Book 4)

  We make it to a restaurant off Canal Street that, honestly, isn’t much to look at on the outside but the delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen are enough to make me literally salivate. And judging by the line of people on the street, it’s the place to be.

  I start to walk to the back of the line, but Lucifer grabs my arm before letting his fingers slide down to my hand. Our palms touch.

  “No wait for us, dear. Come on.”

  He leads me inside and we’re greeted by the host who immediately takes us to our table.

  “Well, this is cozy,” I remark, taking in the worn wooden tables and fading photographs. “Looks like I’m dressed appropriately. Can’t say the same for you, unless you’re planning to officiate a gay wedding after lunch.”

  He feigns offense. “And what’s wrong with my suit?”

  “Eh…a little tight, don’t you think? Like a yeast infection waiting to happen.”

  We go back and forth, taking little playful jabs at each other until the first round of food comes out: a basket of hush puppies fresh from the fryer.

  “They’re full of crawfish,” Lucifer explains as I eye the crispy golden fried nuggets.

  “But we didn’t order these.” Although I’m seriously considering keeping them for myself.

  “I did. I ordered everything.”

  I purse my lips. “You ordered for me? And how do you know what I like? How do you know I’m not deathly allergic to seafood?”

  He snorts a laugh. “Because I know.”

  Unable to deny my hunger any longer, I pick up a craw puppy and take a bite, burning my tongue. And holy hell, is it worth it.

  “Good, right?”

  “Oh my God, yes,” I moan before popping the rest into my mouth and going for another. “Forget the gay wedding. I’m ready to marry these.”

  We haven’t even polished off the basket before more food is brought out. Steaming hot bowls of gumbo and étoufée that smell like they’ve been blessed by the Lord Himself are placed on our table, and I swear, I almost weep.

  “Pace yourself. There’s more,” Lucifer smiles as I dig in.

  I can’t even remember the last time I truly tasted food without the sour taste of fear tainting my tongue. And to be here? In New Orleans, eating the best food known to man? Even dining with the Devil won’t make this experience any less amazing.

  The next course is a huge platter of fried seafood. Everything from shrimp to oysters to softshell crab is piled high, accompanied with French fries and coleslaw. I eat until I’m near bursting, while Lucifer watches me over his fork, an amused gleam in his eye. I don’t question it, and I honestly don’t care. Maybe if he hadn’t tried to impress me with those pretentious dinners in Hell, I would have eaten more.

  When dessert is brought out, I think I may pass out from overeating. But not before I allow myself a tiny taste of the most incredible bread pudding drizzled with whiskey sauce ever created.

  “Ready to go?” Lucifer asks before I doze off to sleep right there at the table.

  “Do we have to? I can barely move,” I whine.

  “Don’t worry. I have a surprise for you.”

  He drops several bills on the table, more than enough to cover our meal and the meals of just about every diner here, and extends his hand. This time I take it. I’m much too full to protest and could use the help rolling my ass up out of there.

  I would say it’s just a coincidence that there’s a Pedicab waiting for us when we exit, but I’ve learned that Lucifer never leaves anything to chance. We climb in—him more graceful than me—and we’re zipping through the streets in the bicycle drawn cart, passing Voodoo shops and tourist traps.

  I smack my palm to my forehead. “Crap. I was so preoccupied with stuffing my face that I didn’t even bother to look around for any clues.”

  “I noticed. But not to worry. I took the liberty.”

  “And?”

  “And I didn’t feel anything. Sin is everywhere. It’s like air to me. But there’s a certain sensation—a taste—that intense sin emits. It stays on its person like a brand, and it’s not easily washed away. Not without redemption.”

  “So where do you plan to find this potent brand of sin?” I question.

  “A place you should get well acquainted with. It’s time we pay a few friends a visit.” He grins in that way that tells me he’s up to no good, and I know I’m done for. “We’re going to the cemetery.”

  I can’t say that I’m thrilled to be strolling through a cemetery in one of the most haunted cities in the world with literal Satan, but I’m surprised to find that it’s not nearly as creepy as I initially thought. First of all, it’s daytime. And second, we’re surrounded by picture-snapping tourists. I’m a half-human half-angel hybrid. If they’re not spooked, there’s no way I should be.

  We blend into the guided tour crowd, but before long, Lucifer leads us away. I can’t say that I’m not thankful. The sooner we get out of here, the better.

  “Who are all these people?” I ask, pointing at the various tombs marked with family names.

  “Dead witches,” Lucifer replies frankly. He walks with a purpose, as if he knows exactly who and what we’re looking for.

  “And you think a bunch of dead witches would know how to find Legion?”

  “The witches know everything. Especially in this town.”

  “So what…couldn’t scrounge up any live ones?”

  He begins to slow, indicating that he’s found what he’s looking for. “The dead ones were the most powerful. They supply the magic that the modern witches practice, which honestly, is not really magic at all. But this particular coven wasn’t afraid to get their hands dirty. I was quite fond of one in particular.”

  We stop, and I look up at the massive concrete structure that looms before us, and I gasp.

  Inscribed on the plaque of the tomb is a name I recognize. A name I’ve heard before.

  Laveau.

  The ancestral surname of Niko’s lost love, Amelie. The human witch who surrendered her magic to him so he could live.

  “Sooo…” I begin awkwardly, looking around at the passersby to ensure no one is eavesdropping. “What do you plan to do? Dig up a corpse in broad daylight?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Then how do you expect to talk to a dead witch?

  “Watch and learn, young grasshopper.”

  He places his hand on the tomb and closes his eyes, drawing quite a few curious stares. Nothing happens. I don’t see anything, I don’t hear anything. Honestly, I feel pretty stupid just standing here, watching him silently communicate with a slab of cement. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, I become a bit restless.

  “What do all the Xs mean?” I ask.

  “Tourists believe that drawing an X on the tomb and doing a bunch of other nonsensical bullshit would grant them a wish. A rumor started by the witches to conceal the truth of how to really bargain with Marie Laveau, because opening a vein in public would be bad for business.”

  Marie Laveau. I know that name. I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together when Niko mentioned her before.

  “So this is where Marie Laveau was buried?”

  “Of course not. Not all of her anyway.”

  I shiver. “So what…are her body parts scattered across the world?”

  Lucifer shakes his head. “I would hope not. I’d imagine she’d find that quite uncomfortable.”

  My eyes grow wide. “It says here on the brochure that she was born in the 1700s. Are you saying that Marie is still alive?”

  His lips curl devilishly. “It’s quite difficult to kill the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. Trust me.”

  He goes silent for a few more moments before he begins to murmur quietly. Almost like he’s chanting. Then he smiles, his hand still pressed against the tomb.

  “Nice of you to join us, old friend.”

  I look behind me, only to find there’s no one there. “Who are you talking to?”
r />   Lucifer ignores my question, his eyes still tight with concentration. “You know why I’m here.” A pause, like he’s listening. “You expect me to believe that you haven’t heard? And considering that you’re still in my debt, I suggest you start talking.”

  I listen in awe as Lucifer has a full-blown conversation with an alleged dead witch. No one questions it; apparently this isn’t the weirdest thing to happen in a cemetery. It almost looks as if he’s praying to her.

  “Hmm, interesting. And where can I find her? Ok. Thank you. And yes, I’ll tell her.”

  He drops his hand and turns to me. “Ready? Or would you like me to continue the tour?”

  My mouth is still agape. “Ummm, what was that?”

  Lucifer shrugs. “Just two old friends catching up.”

  “Psychically? Wouldn’t it have been easier to call her on the phone?”

  I follow him out of the cemetery, away from listening ears. Once we’re on the sidewalk, he says, “The witches can’t find Legion. But they may have a lead on who is letting the demons out of Hell. They were only too happy to give him up too.”

  “Let me guess: Stavros. We should tell Niko.”

  He shakes his head. “Not yet. Not until I get what I want.”

  “He is his father, and the one responsible for his death. Niko and Dorian should be involved,” I insist.

  “And they will be. Soon.”

  We head back towards the shops and restaurants and decide to stop at a little café. I’m still stuffed, but can’t help but eye the beignets dusted with powdered sugar.

  “I can’t believe you took me to a cemetery to talk to a dead witch.”

  He shrugs. “Death is subjective. Marie Laveau will never truly be dead. Her magic, her spirit, will be passed on through generations of New Orleans witches. She still lives.”

  “I can see that. How do you know her?”

  Our order of chicory coffee arrives, and we take a pause to thank the server and sip the piping hot brew. When he’s out of earshot, Lucifer says, “Marie Laveau wanted the only thing she couldn’t conjure herself. Immortality.”

  “Which didn’t come cheap, I assume.”

  “Not at all, but I was happy to oblige. Having the most powerful Voodoo witch in New Orleans in your back pocket can be useful.”

  “I’ll bet it is.”

  I add a little cream and sugar to my coffee. Ok, more like a little coffee to my cream and sugar. Just one cup and I feel like I’ll be up for days.

  “I allowed the Dark to hold it as a territory in the 20th century. Marie was not happy with that decision, so she tried to challenge me. She was unsuccessful.”

  “So you knew Niko then?”

  He shakes his head. “We hadn’t met formally, but I knew of the young, reckless Dark prince. He was impressive, unapologetic, ruthless. He reminded me a lot of myself.”

  “Yeah right,” I scoff. “Niko is nothing like you.”

  “Maybe not now, but twenty-five years ago, he would have shocked even you. Dorian was the hunter, but Nikolai was the killer. The Dark and Light believe that any magic not borne of God, like theirs, is blasphemy. They rule the elements, drawing their strength from the sun and moon. And when tested, they spawn catastrophe. Does Hurricane Katrina ring any bells?”

  My jaw drops. Hurricane Katrina caused mass devastation. Devastation that was still evident in the historical buildings around the city. These people had suffered beyond comprehension, yet they never lost hope. They rebuilt their homes, their businesses, their lives. Even after all these years, they were still in recovery mode, but they stood strong. The magic of New Orleans remained within them.

  “Don’t tell me Niko was responsible for that.”

  “Not him. But someone sent by his father. You see, Nikolai wanted to surrender New Orleans to the witches, out of respect for his dead love. But he couldn’t, not really. Stavros still had a hold on this place.”

  “And now?”

  He takes a breath and looks away. “Now…now we find out why Irin sent us here.”

  “She obviously had a reason.”

  “The Many thrive off sin. Look just beneath the surface. While this is a beautiful city, it is a known hot spot for supernatural depravity. Not just a few Voodoo dolls and fortune tellers. But the type of dark shit that the locals only whisper about.”

  I swallow, letting his words sink in. The people of New Orleans were not shy about their affinity for witchcraft, but I had guessed it was all to appeal to tourism. However, I knew there had to be some truth to the legends. It would be almost too easy for The Many to wreak havoc without setting off any major alarm bells.

  “So what’s the plan?” I ask. If my suspicions are true, sitting around talking about it over coffee won’t do any good.

  “There’s an event tomorrow night. And we’re going.”

  “And that means…”

  “It means that we have a lead. And a good one.”

  He isn’t as jovial as he was before his little psychic meeting with the Voodoo priestess, so I have to wonder what else he learned. Something about the arrival of Pestilence? A prophecy pertaining to the end of the world? Usually I can’t get Lucifer to shut up, but now he’s oddly tight-lipped.

  “You said, I’ll tell her. Who is her?”

  He sighs, then gingerly sets his cup down. “Marie wanted you to know that they’ve been watching you. One of her relatives in particular has taken a great interest in you. She wanted me to tell you hello.”

  “Amelie?”

  He nods. “Apparently she’s fond of you. However, the New Orleans witches are distrusting of all outsiders, present company included. And your relationship with Nikolai doesn’t sit well with them, of course.”

  “We’re just friends,” I frown.

  Lucifer cocks a brow. “Is that all?”

  “Yes, that’s all.”

  “He likes you, you know.”

  I shrug. “And I like him too. He’s been kind to me.”

  “Don’t be obtuse, Eden. He has feelings for you. Feelings that extend beyond friendship. And if you were honest with yourself, you’d see that you have feelings for him, too.”

  I shake my head and reply, “Nikolai is everything I would want in a man, I’ll admit that. He’s beautiful, caring, generous. I know that I’m safe with him. But despite all of that, I know that he looks at me and is reminded of her. No one will ever take Amelie’s place in his heart, and I would never try to.”

  Lucifer is quiet for a few beats as he glides the tip of his finger over the rim of his cup, leaving me to sip my coffee.

  “So is that what you saw in Legion? Someone beautiful, caring, and generous? Someone to provide you safety?”

  “I can’t compare the two, but yes,” I answer truthfully. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t like that at first. He scared me. But there was something about the intense way he looked at me. He had this fierce, yet silent passion that was almost palpable. And he showed me compassion even at times when I probably didn’t deserve it. He made me want to be better, to do better. Because if he can fall so far from grace and then try like hell to redeem himself for all he’s done, then anything is possible for a sinner like me.”

  Lucifer nods and his lips part to reply, but he says nothing. To cut the awkwardness, I pick up the newspaper the server dropped off with our coffees.

  I flip open the first page, and the color drains from my face.

  “Holy shit.”

  Lucifer leans forward to get a glimpse of the cause of my sudden shock and dismay. “What?”

  With trembling fingers, I hand him the paper. I didn’t even have to read the entire story to know what it was. The headline and the few details that I could stand to read were enough.

  “Seven dead in apparent mass suicide at college sorority house,” Lucifer reads aloud. His eyes meet mine, reflecting all the dread roiling in my gut.

  “Are…” I swallow thickly. “Are there any specifics?”

  Lucifer scans the arti
cle, his brow furrowed. “It says that it appears that they slit their wrists. All seven of them. In the bathroom.”

  I’m afraid to ask. “Where?”

  “Roanoke College in Salem, Virginia.” He lifts his gaze from the text. “It’s a religious college. Lutheran.”

  “You think this is…” I can’t say it. I can’t go back there. I’d worked so hard all day to scrub the images from my mind. I won’t let this undo me.

  “Your dream,” Lucifer finishes. “It doesn’t mention any symbols that were found, but the article states that authorities believe occult activity could have played a part.”

  I know what this means. Legion—The Many—killed those girls. I don’t know how they influenced them to slit their own wrists, but I know this was no suicide. I also don’t miss that there were seven victims. Seven. Just like the bar in New York. This can’t be a coincidence.

  My mind works overtime trying to form a logical explanation for this, but before I can utter a single theory, a commotion at the other side of the café steals our attention.

  “Hey, turn that up!” someone shouts.

  Gasps and more than a few cries ring out throughout the space. A woman is sobbing. Then, the first stirrings of hysteria.

  “What’s going on?”

  I’m out of my seat and walking towards the crowd that seems to be centralized in front of a mounted television. Lucifer is right behind me. The words BREAKING NEWS scroll across the TV screen in big, bold red, as a solemn anchorman reports.

  “If you’re just tuning in, it has been confirmed that there have been several missiles that have been launched, targeting US military bases in Europe, including the largest overseas military installation in the world. The death toll is tremendous, and still rising, with many women and children counted amongst the casualties. Even a military hospital, Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, was hit and almost completely demolished. This is by far the deadliest attack on our military and the American people in history. The president of the United States is set to hold a press conference in just a few minutes. In the meantime, we’ve gained aerial views of just some of the aftermath. We must warn our viewers to please use discretion. The images are horrifying…”